The Observing Self

In a world that pulls at you from every direction, a world that clamors for your attention with bright screens, endless notifications, and demands disguised as opportunities, the idea of turning inward feels almost radical. Imagine, for a moment, what might happen if you gave yourself the attention you so freely give to everything else. Imagine the kind of power you could reclaim. The kind of clarity. The kind of quiet. Imagine what a badass you would be if you stopped pouring your energy into proving, pleasing, and performing, and instead channeled it toward the one person who actually needs it: you.

It’s not easy, of course. The world doesn’t reward self-reflection. It rewards busyness, productivity, the illusion of having it all together. But attention—your own, undivided attention—is where transformation begins. It’s not something anyone can give you; it’s something you have to choose for yourself. And choosing it means stepping out of the noise, even for a moment, to ask the questions you’ve been avoiding.

What do I need right now? What am I feeling? What part of me have I been neglecting, hoping it would just disappear?

Here is an exercise to help you get there—not to some mythical place of perfection, but to a place of presence, of self-awareness, of seeing yourself with the same care and consideration you might offer someone else. It won’t fix everything, but it will start something. And starting, in a world like this one, is nothing short of revolutionary.

Self-Observation Exercise

Sit down. Close your eyes. Feel the weight of your body against the chair, your feet planted firmly on the floor. Let yourself sink into the stillness. Pay attention, but not in the way the world demands—this isn’t about solving, fixing, or performing. Simply notice. What sensations are present in your body? Is there tension in your shoulders, a heaviness in your chest, a lightness in your hands? Let the sensations speak, without trying to change them.

Now listen to the sounds around you. The hum of a distant appliance, the murmur of voices through a wall, the faint rustle of your own breath. Notice the taste in your mouth, subtle and unassuming, but present all the same. What thoughts are floating to the surface? Are they insistent, demanding your attention, or do they simply drift in and out, like clouds across a sky? Notice them, but don’t engage. They are not you.

What emotions are showing up? Is there a flicker of joy, a wave of sadness, an edge of irritation? Don’t push them away, and don’t cling to them either. Just notice. This is your observing self—the part of you that watches without judgment, that exists beyond the noise of the world and the stories you tell yourself. It is always there, waiting for you to return.

When you’re ready, ask yourself: What did I notice? What needs my attention right now? What parts of me are asking to be seen, understood, or healed? And just as importantly, what wants to be celebrated? What in you deserves acknowledgment, deserves light? Don’t rush the answers. Let them come to you.

Finally, give yourself credit for this moment—for the courage it takes to stop, to turn inward, to listen. Acknowledge where you are, even if it’s not where you want to be. This is you, and you are worthy of your own attention. You always have been. Breathe into that truth. Let it settle. This is the beginning, and that is enough.