KNOWING • Part 3: Developing Your Character
It is easy to stay in motion. Doing. Responding. Attending. All without ever pausing to ask where we are actually headed. But taking time to reflect on who we are becoming is essential. It gives shape to our direction and helps us stay grounded in the life we truly want to live.
Most days begin with a mental list. There are tasks to complete, emails to answer, obligations to fulfill. These responsibilities are not inherently bad. In fact, many of them are tied to things we care about, like our work, our home, and the people we love. But life maintenance has a way of becoming life itself. The dishes get done. The meetings happen. The laundry gets folded. And somewhere in all that motion, we risk losing connection with who we are and what we want to grow into.
This is not about abandoning responsibility. It is about remembering that our energy, our presence, and our time are finite. And if we are not intentional, the effort we give to everything else can slowly chip away at the attention we owe ourselves.
Even the most functional, necessary tasks (like cleaning, caretaking, and showing up for work) can quietly crowd out the deeper work of becoming. One moment does not feel like much. But over time, they accumulate. We find ourselves reactive rather than intentional. We fill our calendars but lose our sense of direction.
Creating space to reflect is not indulgent. It is foundational. It is how we recalibrate. It is how we remember that our lives are not just a series of obligations, but an unfolding story of becoming.
When you pause to ask, “Who am I becoming?” you begin to reclaim your agency. When you name the kind of life you believe is good, and true, and worthy, you gain a compass. And when you carry that compass into each day, you are able to find meaning, even in the mundane. You are able to grow, even in the grind. You are able to live, not just exist.
So give yourself the gift of that space. You do not need hours. Just intention. A moment of reflection. A breath of clarity. A reminder of what really matters. And from that place, you begin again, with purpose.