Read this Field Note as a blog post
Hi Reader!
One of the things I love about spending time in the garden is that it rarely teaches me the lesson I expected to learn.
This week, I walked outside with a simple spark of a plan. I wanted to cut a few flowers from the yard to bring inside, so I grabbed a pair of scissors and headed into the yard. Before I reached the flowers, I noticed my pansies needed to be deadheaded. Since I already had the scissors in my hand, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to take care of both jobs at once.
What surprised me was how awkward the task became.
Using the scissors kept me just far enough away that I couldn't quite feel what I was doing. I found myself carefully aiming between healthy blooms, trying to snip only the spent flowers without cutting anything I wanted to keep. I mean, it worked, but it felt clumsy.
Eventually I set the scissors down and reached into the plant with my hands instead.
Immediately, everything changed.
With my fingers on the stems, I could feel exactly what needed to come off. The work became faster, more precise, and oddly more satisfying. Even though my hands were only a few inches closer than the scissors had been, that small shift completely changed my experience.
Standing there on my front porch, I realized I wasn't really learning something about gardening.
I was learning something about attention.
We often hear that perspective is valuable, and I absolutely believe it is. Stepping back helps us see patterns, understand the bigger picture, and recognize things we might otherwise miss. Perspective is one of the ways we begin finding our bearings.
But perspective isn't always the right tool.
Sometimes what a situation needs isn't more distance. It needs more presence.
The scissors gave me perspective. My hands gave me connection.
Neither was wrong. They were simply designed for different kinds of work.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized how often I do this in other areas of my life. When something feels difficult, my instinct is often to look for another tool, another system, another framework, or another productivity hack. And sometimes those are exactly what's needed.
Other times, what I'm really avoiding is getting close enough to the situation to understand it.
✦ Sometimes the conversation needs to happen instead of another journal prompt.
✦ Sometimes the project needs to begin instead of another planning session.
✦ Sometimes the relationship needs presence more than analysis.
One of the ideas I've been exploring through Human Orientation is that finding our bearings isn't only about collecting better information. It's also about recognizing what kind of attention a particular moment is asking of us.
Some situations ask us to step back and widen our perspective.
Others ask us to lean in, trust our senses, and get our hands a little dirty.
When we bring the wrong kind of attention to the terrain we're standing in, we often experience unnecessary friction. We assume the problem is our capability when, in reality, it may simply be that we're using the wrong tool.
That realization has stayed with me since those moments taking care of my porch plants.
It makes me wonder how many moments in life become easier, not because we try harder, but because we become more honest about what the situation is actually asking from us.
This Week's Field Observation
As you move through your week, notice where you're experiencing friction.
Before you look for another solution, pause long enough to ask yourself-
Does this situation need more perspective... or more presence?
You don't have to answer perfectly. Simply noticing the question may be enough to help you find your bearings.
Thanks for being in the field with me.
✦
