On my windowsill of my kitchen, there is a plant that has never once stopped reaching for the light. No matter how many times I rotate the pot, the leaves curve back toward the sun. It does not waste time arguing with the dark.
It does not wonder whether the light will return.
It simply bends toward what nourishes it.
We are not so different.
What we give our attention to is what we grow toward. Our lives bend in the direction of our focus. Spend enough time staring at everything broken, and we begin to take that shape.
Attend to what is alive and possible and those futures become sturdier under our gaze.
Attention is not neutral. It is energy. It is food. It is the quiet force that builds the conditions of tomorrow.
Yet we live in an economy that is built to hijack that force.
Algorithms flood our feeds with anger, fear, and outrage, because those are the most profitable.
They know we are wired with a bias toward bad news, so they feed it back to us in an endless loop. The result is a kind of phototropism. We bend toward the glow of crisis , convinced it is nourishment, while our roots weaken in the shallow soil.
What are you thinking about after reading this? Feel free to leave a comment, I’d love to hear.
This is not only a personal problem. It is collective. A forest is shaped by how all its trees lean together. Whole movements rise or falter depending on what we choose to look at. When millions of eyes fix on injustice, it cannot stay hidden. When attention scatters, so does power.
The future we imagine is not summoned only by action or protest. It is summoned by attention. The world that is possible tomorrow is already taking shape under our gaze today.
Ancient wisdom tells us that attention is a kind of prayer. Our ancestors watched the sky, listened for the shift in animal calls, noticed the smallest changes in wind and season. Their survival depended on what they attended to.
Ours still does, though we often forget.
The mind is not a blank space. It is a field. Whatever we focus on will grow there. If all we notice is despair, despair will root itself and spread. If we give some of our gaze to what is fragile but alive, those green shoots will find strength.
This is not about ignoring the dark. Plants live fully in shadow too. Their roots stretch deeper. Their stems lengthen quietly at night. But when light arrives, they do not hesitate. They turn toward what sustains.
This is a space for reflection, not just information. If something struck you, or you’re holding something you want to share, my inbox is open. Hit 'reply' or send me a message below.
To pay attention is to participate. We are not passive observers of the world. Every moment of attention is a small act of creation, shaping the canopy we all live beneath.
On that same kitchen windowsill, the plant bends toward the sun again today. It does not hesitate. It does not overthink. It simply knows where its life comes from and turns itself there.
So must we.
FYI: I’ve been putting together a weekly newsletter called For People and Planet. It’s where I share stories about climate solutions and the people working on them. If you’d like to read along, you can find it here: forpeopleandpla.net