What My Attention Is Growing

There was a time when every evening ended with the same question.

Was I productive today?

Like many entrepreneurs, I had a routine.

A list.

That series of tasks to check off before the day was over.

If enough boxes were checked, I felt successful.

If they weren't, tomorrow quietly inherited today's unfinished expectations.

For a long time, I thought productivity was something objective.

Something that could be measured.

Then one day, I realized something surprisingly simple.

I get to decide what productivity means.

Some days productivity looks like answering customer emails, planning a new collection, or meeting with another business owner.

Other days it looks like reading stories to my daughters, sitting quietly in the garden with a cup of tea, or listening long enough to hear what my own heart has been trying to tell me.

The tasks change.

But the intention doesn't.

I've come to believe that productivity isn't about completing the same work every day.

It's about giving my fullest attention to what matters most today.

In Creating Affluence, Deepak Chopra writes:

"Just see how magical this is! If our attention is fragmented, then we are fragmented. If our attention is on wholeness, we are wholeness."

He continues,

"The Vedic seers say, 'Have your attention on what is and see its fullness in every moment. You only have to consciously embrace it with your attention.'"

Those words have stayed with me.

Because I began to notice that whenever my attention became scattered, I felt scattered.

When my thoughts raced ahead to tomorrow's responsibilities while I was playing with my daughters, I wasn't fully present with them.

When I answered emails while worrying about everything I hadn't finished, I wasn't fully present with my work either.

It wasn't my schedule that was divided.

It was my attention.

Slowing down didn't reduce my productivity.

It revealed where my attention had been quietly leaking away.

Over the years, another question slowly replaced the first.

Instead of asking,

"Was I productive today?"

I began asking,

"Did I shine a light on another person today?"

That question changes everything.

It always brings a smile that I don't have to force.

I've realized that one of my favorite things in the world is imagining people in their brightest light.

Not who they appear to be while carrying responsibilities or protecting themselves behind professionalism.

But who they become when they feel relaxed.

Curious. Seen. Alive.

A few days ago, I stopped at the bank.

The teller greeted me warmly, but I could feel the familiar rhythm of professional conversation between us.

As we finished my transaction, I found myself wondering,

"What lights him up outside of this counter?"

So I asked.

"Are you a DJ... or do you just really love music? What do you enjoy doing when you're not here?"

His face changed almost instantly.

The careful professionalism melted away.

His eyes brightened.

He began telling me about theatre, music, art, and the creative life he loved beyond the bank.

For just a few minutes, he wasn't simply helping the next customer.

He was sharing a piece of himself.

As I walked away, I realized something beautiful.

I hadn't given him anything.

I had simply held my attention on the fullest version of who he already was.

And somehow, that changed both of us.

Moments like these have quietly shaped the way I move through the world.

The more I look for the light in others, the more difficult it becomes to dislike them.

I may disagree with someone's choices.

I may not understand their actions.

But I've begun to believe that beneath every layer of fear, habit, or circumstance is something sacred waiting to be remembered.

To reject a person's deepest light feels, to me, like overlooking the divine spark they carry.

Perhaps that's why genuine attention is such a gift.

It reminds people of themselves.

As I write these words, my daughter has been patiently waiting for me.

For weeks she's wanted me to teach her how to sew clothes for one of her dolls.

Today, she doesn't need a perfectly organized mother.

She doesn't need another completed checklist.

She simply needs me.

So that's where my attention is going next.

We'll spread fabric across the table.

We'll sketch tiny ideas.

We'll laugh when stitches wander where they weren't supposed to go.

Years from now, I doubt either of us will remember which emails I answered today.

But I have a feeling she'll remember that we made something together.

Perhaps success was never asking us to do more.

Perhaps it has always been asking us to become fully present with what is already asking for our attention.

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A Moment of Radiance

Before your day comes to a close, ask yourself two gentle questions.

Where did my attention spend the day?

And then,

What did my attention help grow?

Whatever we consistently notice begins to flourish.

Perhaps the life we're hoping to create begins not with doing more...

...but with seeing more completely.

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