Walking the Middle Path - How to Keep Moving While Searching for Balance
And here's something powerful to consider: your adapted systems, in all their beautiful, disastrous glory, might be exactly what someone else needs to see. In a world full of perfect productivity porn and flawless morning routines, seeing real, lived-in systems can be incredibly liberating.
Between Inherited Systems and Intentional Frameworks
Inherited or Intentional
We all have systems we've inherited—checklists, workflows, routines. Maybe it's a template from a job, a productivity hack from a book, or a ritual handed down through community or family. These systems often feel like lifelines when life gets messy. They promise structure, control, and the magic of getting it right.
But here's the catch: inherited systems weren't built for you. The problem isn't that we're failing to follow them correctly. The problem is that we're not truly adopting them—not making them part of our family of tools and practices. Instead, we find comfort in their rigid structure, checking boxes because that's what the system says to do, rather than doing the harder work of raising these systems to match our truth.
Scaffolding or Shackles
Every system starts as scaffolding. It offers structure and stability—a way to hold things together when life feels chaotic. But without customization, inherited systems can become more like shackles, confining you to expectations that don't match your reality.
I spent decades in kitchens where systems meant survival. But the same prep lists that saved my ass during service had to grow with me—from rigid templates into living documents that could handle the chaos of a real kitchen, coffee stains and all. That's the difference between inheriting a system and choosing to make it your own.
This isn't about rebellion against structure—it's about having the patience and self-trust to nurture these frameworks until they genuinely serve us, rather than just giving us the illusion of control.
Adoption or Adherence
Even now, years after leaving professional kitchens, I find myself unconsciously applying these adapted patterns. Recently, while explaining how I translate my often chaotic thoughts into structured content, I caught myself about to say "How it was, what happened, and what it's like now"—a framework I inherited from 12-step recovery that had become so integrated I was naturally applying it in a completely different context. That's when I realized: this wasn't just following a format anymore. It had become my own tool for making sense of transformation.
This principle extends beyond personal stories and kitchen systems. Think of system adoption like raising a child rather than trying to create a perfect clone. It's about nurturing growth and development, not enforcing rigid conformity.
Here's how to start:
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Start with honest observation:
- What drew you to this system initially?
- Which parts feel natural? Which feel forced?
- Where do you find yourself resisting or struggling?
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Identify core principles:
- What is this system actually trying to accomplish?
- Which elements are essential vs. customizable?
- What problems is it really solving for you?
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Begin the adoption process:
- What would this system look like if it grew up in your world?
- How can you maintain its core benefits while adapting its form?
- What elements from your existing practices could enhance it?
The Scaling Principle
One of the most powerful aspects of truly adopted systems is their ability to scale—both up and down. A well-adapted system works whether you have five seconds or fifty minutes available. It serves you on your best days and your hardest days.
Consider how this plays out in different contexts:
- A morning routine might scale from three deep breaths to a full hour of intentional practice
- A task list might flex from broad categories to detailed sub-tasks depending on your capacity
- A decision-making framework might adapt from quick gut checks to thorough analysis
The key is building systems that maintain their core benefits while adapting to your current reality. This isn't about having multiple systems—it's about having one system that grows and contracts with your needs.
Revelation to Integration
Recently, I had a revelation about meditation that perfectly illustrates this evolution. I'd inherited the traditional concept but struggled with its rigid implementation. The breakthrough came when I recognized that meditation could exist on multiple scales—from momentary thought shifts to deeper state changes.
For those of us who struggle with time blindness or working memory challenges, this flexibility is crucial. Traditional meditation guidance often emphasizes long, structured sessions. But what happens when we can't reliably predict or manage those time blocks? When our attention shifts faster than traditional practices account for? That's where system adaptation becomes essential.
Just like in recovery, where "one day at a time" sometimes needs to become "one minute at a time," our adopted systems need to flex with our needs. Suddenly, small daily moments of redirecting attention became as valid as longer sessions. Brief pattern interrupts became as meaningful as emergency interventions.
This principle extends beyond meditation - Take task management, for instance. Traditional systems often assume a linear workflow—write everything down, prioritize, execute. But many of us experience time and tasks differently. Some days, a detailed project plan serves us perfectly. Other days, we need a system that can handle rapid context switching and unexpected energy fluctuations.
From Theory to Practice
These days, my notebooks might look like beautiful disasters to anyone else, but they work because they've grown up in my world. Some pages are structured and clear, others look like they've survived a war. But they work because they've evolved to serve how I actually think and work, not how I think I should work.
True adoption means the system grows to match your needs, your patterns, your reality. This isn't about lowering standards—it's about raising our systems to meet our actual lives rather than some idealized version of productivity or practice.
And here's something powerful to consider: your adapted systems, in all their beautiful, disastrous glory, might be exactly what someone else needs to see. In a world full of perfect productivity porn and flawless morning routines, seeing real, lived-in systems can be incredibly liberating. Your coffee-stained notebooks and flexibly scaled practices might help someone else trust their own adaptation process.
As you move forward, remember: You're not failing at these systems—you're still in the process of truly adopting them. Give yourself the same patience and grace you'd give to any growing relationship. The goal isn't perfect execution; it's genuine integration.
Pause for Reflection: Think about a system you're currently using. Are you following it, or have you truly adopted it? What would it look like if this system grew to match your actual needs rather than your ideal execution of it? What's one small change you could make today to start this adoption process?