On feelings, patterns, and learning to pay attention to the right things.
You know how some things come at you in a steady gradual build and others are about as subtle as running into a wall?
Well, recently that wall has been a good friend to me.
Lately, I’ve started to notice something interesting.
The way patterns and feelings are in constant competition with each other.
It’s fair to say that more often than not, feelings win out.
They’re loud.
They’re immediate.
Impossible to ignore.
The problem with this is that loud things grab our attention first.
A single conversation.
That random text.
One unusually good day followed by one unusually bad day.
But patterns?
They couldn’t care less about the feelings involved.
They show up.
Quietly.
Consistently.
Whether we’re paying attention or not
For a long time, I didn’t always pay attention to the patterns, or at least not consciously.
It was the moments that I kept coming back to.
The unusually kind comment.
The unexpected text.
The out of character action.
Every interaction felt like a clue that was asking to be solved.
The problem?
Moments rarely tell the whole story.
A single moment almost means anything.
People have bad days.
They can also have good days.
We can get distracted, busy, tired, completely preoccupied with something that has nothing to do with others.
But patterns?
That’s different.
Patterns feel zero obligation in explaining themselves.
They only care about repeating, until you’re willing to notice them.
Patterns feel zero obligation in explaining themselves
Maybe I’ve started trusting patterns more than moments because I’m making a conscious effort to recognize the difference.
Moments are emotional.
Patterns are factual.
A moment can put you in a spiral that questions everything.
A pattern will never let you get to the point of spiral, if you’re patient enough to watch for it.
Something I’ve learned is that not every situation has to be immediately understood or even acknowledged.
Not every interaction needs dissection.
Not every uncertainty needs to be solved to move forward.
Sometimes the best option for me is to step back and watch.
Watch not what happened once.
Not even what happened yesterday.
But what keeps happening over a period of time.
Because eventually patterns start speaking for themselves.
I wouldn’t say watching patterns taught me anything about people specifically. It’s more about myself.
How I want people to show up for me.
How quickly I attached myself to a single moment.
How easily it is to build an entire story around one thing.
How easily I let myself spiral out of control.
I never pictured myself as someone who was tempted by uncertainty. If I didn’t know where I stood, I’d search for solid ground.
If something didn’t make sense, I’d piece together an explanation.
If I had questions, I found an answer– immediately.
But patterns don’t care about timelines or their urgency. They’re built over days, weeks, sometimes even years.
Which means patterns also taught me something about myself, that I’m grateful for.
It taught me to stop chasing answers.
I’ve become appreciative towards patterns.
Not because it’s always what I want to hear, most of the time it’s not.
It’s because they can challenge assumptions I’ve already made or force me to let go of the stories I’ve told myself that fits my wants.
They’ve saved me from reacting too quickly.
Slow down instead of jumping ahead.
Looking for a different piece of the puzzle before forcing it to fit.
Truth is, most things will reveal themselves.
Maybe not all at once.
Maybe not even with a grand realization.
But through small micro moments that grow into that lightbulb moment.
I think that’s why patterns are easily missed.
Because they’re not dramatic or loud.
But if you’re willing to be patient, they’ll usually tell you everything you need to know.
We just need to be willing to hear.
Feelings may be loud, but patterns are usually honest.
More soon,
Quill
