What You Notice

Gently recognizing the terrain you’ve inherited

Before anything can grow, we have to see what’s already there. The inner garden many of us tend isn’t just ours. It’s shaped by family patterns, cultural scripts, painful experiences, and unspoken rules. Most of this terrain forms long before we know how to name it. But once we begin to notice, we gain the power to choose what to keep, what to compost, and what to plant with care.

This is about noticing the current reality—what’s truly happening now—not the world we wish existed, or the one we think others should create for us. Even when society, culture, or the people around us don’t seem to be changing, we can begin the work of tending our own ground. Instead of waiting for external systems to shift, we start with what’s already growing inside us. That’s where real change takes root.

What You Repeat

You may find yourself thinking the same thought, again and again. These are auto-thoughts—quick, sharp, and often harsh. They don’t ask permission. They sound like:

I’m broken.
People are liars.
Things are good now, but the other shoe will drop.
No one really wants me around.
I have to stay silent to be safe.

They crop up without effort. You didn’t choose them—they were given to you, planted by repeated experience.

One person I’ve worked with remembered feeling unsafe when they were lighthearted. A parent would shut down or criticize their joy. As an adult, they found themselves tensing when laughing too freely, as if joy itself were risky. The moment didn’t come with clear words—more often, it arrived as a sudden jolt of anxiety or the sense of being watched or judged. The body remembered before the mind did.

Another noticed how a simple moment—a cold glance from a cashier—could reopen the old wound of helplessness. Their thought: “I’m in danger.” It wasn’t rational, but it was familiar.

What You Believe

Beneath every repeating thought is a belief: a quiet rule about how the world works. My joy has a cost. To stay safe, I must tone myself down. Helplessness means I’m broken. People are dishonest—I’ll always be let down. There must be something wrong with me.

These beliefs often go unquestioned. They’re old. And they create consequences—especially when we don’t notice or challenge them.

What You Feel

When thoughts and beliefs go unexamined, they shape the emotional climate of our lives. You might feel wary, lonely, shut down, or small. You might feel frustrated and confused—longing to connect, but unable to risk vulnerability. These emotional markers are not flaws. They’re signals. They tell you where your garden needs tending.

In one case, a person noticed that sadness and powerlessness would surge whenever they saw friends making plans without them. The feeling wasn’t just loneliness—it was shame. A sense that they were fundamentally unlikeable or unworthy of connection. As they looked closer, they began to see that this emotion was tied to an old belief: I’m not someone people want to be close to. That belief had taken root early, and silence had become a way to cope. But now, that same silence was feeding the belief and reinforcing the isolation it was meant to avoid.

What You Absorbed

Much of what we carry wasn’t said outright. It was shown. Implied. Lived. Some grew up in households where appearances mattered more than truth. Or where emotional honesty was shut down—or met with silence, sarcasm, or discomfort. Others learned that they could be accepted only if they agreed to rules they didn’t make. Still others were left to make sense of rejection, betrayal, or inconsistency, and found safety in withdrawal or perfectionism.

What we absorb isn’t our fault. But it becomes our soil—until we change it.

What You’ve Produced

These inner patterns shape your outer life. You may notice chronic loneliness, burnout, people-pleasing, emotional flatness, or a deep sense of mistrust. This is not failure. It’s simply the result of what’s been growing. The question is: Do you want to keep growing it?

These are the weeds and seeds already in your garden. You don’t need to name them all. But when you start to see them—clearly, gently, and without judgment—you create space for something new to grow.

You don’t need a fancy system. Just a few quiet minutes, now and then, to check the terrain. You might notice:

The Top Layer – What’s rising up today?
Repeat – What thought keeps circling?
Believe – What belief might be underneath?
Feel – What emotions are showing up?
Absorb – Where might this come from?
Produce – How is this shaping your day?

Then take a moment to name the opposites—just enough to offer yourself a different path:

A new thought you’d like to grow
A belief that supports healing or possibility
An emotion you’d love to feel instead

And finally, choose a tool. This part matters.
Pick one small way to nourish something new:

Will you Leap and try acting from the new belief?
Will you GO and generate the opposite?
Will you Imagine something gentler?
Will you return HOme and ask for help?

You don’t have to fix it all today. Just noticing is enough to shift the soil.