On Attention
Reflections on presence, perception, and intuition
December 30, 2025
Last month, I became aware that I had limited myself. It was subtle — perhaps that’s why it took a while to notice. In my daily physical training, I found myself stopping just before the edge. After years of injuries and physical issues, caution made sense. But I began to wonder: was I being wise, or merely apprehensive?
Could I go further and enjoy the extensions I’d always craved? Having once reached those limits, my muscles remembered them. They seemed to know where they wanted to go. Why, then, did I stop?
I noticed a similar pattern while painting. It’s always a conundrum to determine when a painting is finished. One teacher used to say, emphatically, step away — to the point that I still hear her voice as I work. And stepping away does help, but it doesn’t fully resolve the question. What is the limit?
Often, I feel a clear sense of completion. Sometimes I don’t. If I put the work away and return to it later, I usually receive a response. But occasionally, even then, nothing becomes clear. So I ask again: where is the limit? Is there one?
I began to notice limits elsewhere, too — particularly in my boundaries with people. How far am I willing to bend my time and energy to meet theirs? Where does flexibility end and self-erasure begin?
Nature offers its own lessons about limits. Seasons turn. They take their time. Light gives way to shadow. There is movement, but also restraint.
More questions followed.
What experiences might I be limiting myself from — and why?
Who have I limited myself from interacting with?
Some of these limits feel valid. Others may have been once. Some no longer seem true.
When I recognize a limit, I feel constriction — in my thoughts, in my heart, in my body. Attention sharpens around it. And sometimes, simply recognizing the constriction loosens it.
Why move beyond a limit at all?
Often, it’s because I haven’t yet seen what’s on the other side. Perhaps I’ve encountered a version of it before — but not this version, not at this moment in time.
I’m alive. I’ve experienced much.
And there are still edges I haven’t explored.
As a new year approaches, I find myself attentive to these edges — not driven by resolution, but by curiosity. I don’t yet know what lies beyond them. I only know that noticing where I stop has become a form of attention in itself. For now, that feels like enough to notice.
