The moment I choose for you, what you bring into my life, who you are, what you can be, what you mean, who you’ve been – anything that takes me from my space to invade yours – I lose all possibility of experiencing you. I believe in magic. I will always choose vanilla cake.
Have you ever noticed how some days seem to sparkle with possibility, while others feel like they’re wrapped in gray cellophane? The fascinating truth is that inspiration isn’t just about those rare lightning bolt moments—it’s about learning to spot the quiet invitations that life extends to us every single day, even when they’re wearing a convincing disguise as obstacles.
Think about your morning commute. Maybe there’s that one intersection where you always get stuck at the red light. Frustrating, right? But what if that red light is actually offering you a moment? A pause where you might notice the way morning light plays on the buildings, or how the person in the car next to you is singing their heart out to some unheard melody. These tiny moments of observation can spark creativity, curiosity, or simply a smile that changes the entire texture of your day.
The real magic happens when we start treating challenges as creative prompts rather than roadblocks. That difficult colleague who seems to push all your buttons? They might be unknowingly offering you an opportunity to practice patience in ways that will serve you in every relationship moving forward. The printer that jams right before an important meeting? Perhaps it’s an invitation to practice problem-solving under pressure, or better yet, to question whether that document really needed to be printed at all.
But here’s the key that many of us miss: we need to give these moments room to breathe. When we immediately react to challenges with frustration or resistance, we squeeze out all the space where inspiration could potentially bloom. It’s like trying to force a flower to grow by pulling on its stem—all we do is damage the very thing we’re trying to nurture.
Instead, try this: when you encounter something that feels like an obstacle, pause. Take three breaths. Ask yourself: “What might this moment be offering me?” Sometimes the answer will surprise you. That rainy day that cancelled your outdoor plans might lead you to discover a new hobby indoors. The delayed flight might connect you with a stranger whose story changes your perspective on something important.
The beautiful thing about this approach is that it turns every day into a treasure hunt. Suddenly, you’re not just going through your routine—you’re exploring, discovering, allowing yourself to be surprised by the ordinary. Each challenge becomes a potential doorway to something unexpected and wonderful.
Here’s a simple practice to get started: commit to finding one thing each day that sparks your curiosity or creativity. It doesn’t have to be grand or life-changing. Maybe it’s the way your coffee swirls in your cup, creating patterns that remind you of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Perhaps it’s the sound of leaves rustling that inspires you to write a haiku. Or it could be a problem at work that pushes you to think in entirely new ways.
The key is to remain open and curious. When we approach life with gentle attention rather than rigid expectations, we create space for inspiration to find us. It’s about developing a kind of soft focus that allows us to see both the challenge and the opportunity it might be concealing.
Remember, inspiration often speaks in whispers, not shouts. It shows up in the spaces between our planned moments, in the gaps of our expectations, in the quiet corners of our daily routines. By learning to listen more carefully, to look more closely, and to remain open to the unexpected, we transform ordinary moments into extraordinary opportunities for growth and creativity.
So tomorrow morning, when you start your day, ask yourself: “What invitation might life be extending to me today?” Then watch as the ordinary begins to reveal its extraordinary potential, one small moment at a time.
You know that feeling when you catch yourself mid-judgment, that split second where your brain has already categorized someone or something before you’ve even taken a full breath? Yeah, I’m intimately familiar with that moment. At 40, I’ve spent enough years wrestling with my own tendency to jump to conclusions to know how seductive and dangerous contempt can be.
It wasn’t until my late thirties that I really started understanding how deeply contempt prior to investigation had shaped my worldview. Growing up, I’d learned to armor myself with quick assessments, sharp observations, and what I mistakenly believed was “intuition.” In reality, it was just a protective mechanism—a way to feel in control by quickly sorting the world into neat, manageable boxes labeled “good” and “bad.”
Take work environments, for instance. I remember how swiftly I’d size up new colleagues. That guy who always wore wrinkled shirts? Clearly disorganized and unprofessional. The woman who spoke softly in meetings? Obviously lacking confidence. These snap judgments said far more about my own insecurities than about the actual people around me.
The turning point came during a professional workshop where we discussed unconscious bias. The facilitator challenged us to pause—truly pause—before forming an opinion. It sounds simple, right? But for someone who’d built entire career strategies around quick assessments, this was revolutionary. What if, instead of immediately categorizing, I got curious? What if I asked a question instead of constructing a narrative?
This shift wasn’t just professional. It permeated every aspect of my life. I started noticing how quickly I’d form opinions about everything: restaurants, neighborhoods, political movements, parenting styles. Each judgment was a wall, preventing genuine understanding.
Learning to suspend contempt doesn’t mean becoming naive or losing critical thinking. It’s about creating space—breathing room between observation and conclusion. It’s recognizing that every person, every situation, carries complexity far beyond our initial impression.
I’ve learned that contempt is often a shield. It protects us from vulnerability, from the uncomfortable work of truly understanding. When we look down on something or someone, we don’t have to engage, to empathize, to acknowledge our own limitations.
These days, I try to catch myself. When that familiar surge of judgment rises, I take a breath. I ask myself: What am I not seeing? What story might be underneath this surface-level observation? Sometimes the answer surprises me, revealing layers of humanity I would have missed in my previous, more dismissive approach.
This journey isn’t about perfection. It’s about practice. Some days, I’m more successful than others. But each moment of caught judgment is a small victory—a reminder that life is infinitely more interesting when we approach it with curiosity instead of contempt.
Happiness. It’s something we all chase. Right? Whether we’re climbing the career ladder, seeking love, or filling our days with hobbies, at the root of it all is the same goal: to feel happy. But what happens when it seems like happiness is always out of reach, dangling like a carrot we can never quite grab? Does it mean we’re powerless over our own happiness?
It’s easy to feel that way sometimes. Life throws curveballs—stressful jobs, broken relationships, health struggles—and we’re left feeling as though we’re at the mercy of the world around us. Happiness feels fleeting as if it’s something that happens to us rather than something we have any control over. But here’s the truth: we have far more power over our happiness than we realize.
First, let’s break down the idea of happiness. For many of us, it’s tied to external circumstances—having a great job, a loving partner, or financial security. And while these things can contribute to our well-being, happiness isn’t always about what happens to us. It’s often about what happens within us.
Research in psychology shows that three main factors influence happiness:
While we can’t always change our genetics or fully control our circumstances, we have a tremendous amount of influence over our actions and mindset—and that’s where the magic happens.
Think about the last time you were faced with a challenge. Maybe you were passed over for a promotion or had an argument with a friend. In those moments, it’s easy to let negative emotions take over. But what if you had a choice? What if, instead of reacting with frustration or self-pity, you paused and asked yourself:
Happiness doesn’t always come naturally. Sometimes, it requires effort. Choosing to focus on the good, to be grateful, or to look for lessons in hardship doesn’t mean ignoring pain or pretending everything’s okay. It means taking back your power by deciding how you respond.
The idea of “choosing happiness” can sound overly simplistic, but it’s grounded in science. Research shows that small, intentional actions can significantly improve our sense of happiness and well-being. Here are a few practical ways to regain power over your happiness:
One of the biggest myths about happiness is that it’s supposed to be constant. The truth is, life comes with ups and downs. Happiness isn’t about being cheerful every second—it’s about building a foundation of well-being that allows you to weather life’s storms.
Sometimes, we also wait for happiness to arrive instead of creating it ourselves. We think, “I’ll be happy when I get that promotion,” or “I’ll feel better when I lose 10 pounds.” But happiness doesn’t live in some distant future. It’s something we can nurture right here, right now, no matter where we are in life.
So, are we powerless over our happiness? Absolutely not. While we can’t always control what happens to us, we can control how we think, how we act, and how we choose to experience the world. Happiness isn’t a destination you arrive at; it’s a practice you build, day by day.
Take a deep breath. Look around you. What’s one small thing you can do today to bring a bit more light into your life? Maybe it’s calling a friend, savoring your favorite meal, or simply pausing to appreciate this very moment.
Because in the end, happiness isn’t something you have to chase. You can create it—and you are more powerful than you know.
I have taken on this new perspective, a Twelfth Step practice, of applying the steps to my life. In particular, I am aligning this with love. My experience has shown me I can use this powerlessness ideal for anything.
As a recovering co-dependent, I can say I have been powerless over people. Now, I am admitting that I am powerless over this feeling. Is the feeling good? Yes. Can it become toxic? Yes, it can. Do I want it to be healthy? Yes, I do. So, having “seemingly recovered from a hopeless state of mind and being,” I am officially applying this First step to my emotion – love.
The steps will always work in the same way. I will always feel too much about something. You see, when I don’t overwhelm myself, even if for a moment, with a feeling, then it does not matter. That, of course, does not mean I need to stay there. It seems somewhat dualistic. I know. Is it either love or indifference? Well, maybe. Do we ever act on things and not care while caring? We cannot be doing two things at once. It is not physically possible. Are we always incapable of controlling our emotions and how we behave that it is hopeless? No. Is it possible, though? Yes. Consider something as relevant to me as going to a meeting. I can become so attached to meetings as my saving grace that I refuse to work the program, including living on life’s terms.
My point here is that I have this excellent feeling, and I must first ensure it thrives. I want it to last. This means understanding that the moment I believe I can control it, I have already lost control. I will naturally start to “control it” by worrying. Are the worries necessary? No. Do I worry, regardless? Yes. Do I try to make decisions for “the feeling,” which includes me and possibly someone else? I do. Is this now me trying to control the feeling as well as taking control of someone else’s actions – trying to? Yes. This is why I officially take the first step and admit my powerlessness over this love.
I am not going into this any further. There is too much to be said and insufficient clarity available to share. I can tell, though, that admitting that I feel something, admitting that I have no control over it, admitting that it helps me smile, and admitting that I will allow this to take its course is the best I can do right now.
I admitted that I am powerless over this adoration. I feel that my life has become unmanageable.”
PS. I am NOT interested in managing it. It is so much more beautiful when it happens organically. Do I want it to have happened already? Of course! But that’s when I move on to Step 2.
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