A Process Of Seeing Thinking And Responding Is Called The
So, there I was, staring at a mountain of laundry. The kind that mocks you. It had been accumulating for, let's just say, a while. I’d successfully employed the “out of sight, out of mind” technique for a good fortnight. But then, a rogue sock, clearly escaping its fabric prison, tumbled out from under the sofa. That was my Everest moment. My sock-pocalypse.
My initial thought? A dramatic sigh. Followed by a swift internal negotiation: “Maybe if I just… rearrange the existing piles, it won’t look so bad?” You know, like putting a fresh coat of paint on a sinking ship. My brain, bless its little heart, was actively avoiding the actual problem. It was a masterclass in tactical procrastination.
Then came the next stage. A bit of mild panic. “How did it get this bad? I’m a functional adult, am I not?” This was, of course, followed by a wave of self-pity. Why me? Why this particular mountain? It’s amazing how quickly we can turn a simple chore into a Greek tragedy, isn’t it?
But eventually, after a good five minutes of wallowing (and a quick scroll through Instagram to check on other people’s seemingly perfect lives, which, let’s be honest, probably involved their own invisible mountains of something), a tiny spark of pragmatism flickered. “Okay,” I muttered to myself, “this isn’t going to magically disappear. What can I do?”
And that, my friends, is where the magic (or at least, the moderately less chaotic state of my living room) happened. Because what I had just navigated, albeit with a healthy dose of drama, was a pretty fundamental human process. It’s a cycle that plays out in everything we do, from tackling a laundry avalanche to making world-changing decisions. It’s what we might call… the process of seeing, thinking, and responding.
The Seeing, Thinking, and Responding Symphony
Think about it. That rogue sock. My seeing was the visual evidence of the laundry mountain. It wasn't just a sock; it was the canary in the coal mine, the alarm bell, the inconvenient truth staring me in the face. It was the point where denial could no longer hold its ground. For you, this "seeing" might be an email from your boss with a tight deadline, a friend sharing a worrying piece of news, or even just a persistent feeling that something isn’t quite right in your life.
Then comes the thinking. Oh, the thinking! This is where it gets interesting. My initial thinking was pure avoidance. Pure, unadulterated, “nope, not today.” This is our brain’s primitive alarm system kicking in, trying to protect us from perceived threats or discomfort. It's the "fight or flight" response, but often, it morphs into "freeze" or, in my case, "distract and deny."
But as I said, the pragmatic spark ignited. My thinking then shifted. I started to analyze the situation. What are my options? Can I do it all at once? (Spoiler: no.) Can I break it down into smaller tasks? (Ah, now we’re talking!) This is where our more evolved brain cells come into play. We move from instinct to strategy. We consider consequences, evaluate resources, and try to formulate a plan.
And finally, the responding. This is the action part. It’s putting the thinking into motion. My response was to, reluctantly, start sorting. Whites, darks, delicates. A truly thrilling sequence of events, I assure you. But it was a response. It was an action taken based on my seeing and my subsequent thinking. Without the seeing, there’s no impetus to think. Without the thinking, the seeing might just lead to paralysis. And without the responding, well, the laundry mountain would still be there, judging me.
When Seeing Goes Awry (Or, How We Get Stuck)
The beautiful thing about this process is its potential for growth and problem-solving. The not-so-beautiful thing is how easily we can short-circuit it. You’ve probably met people – or maybe even been people – who are stuck in one of these stages, right?
Take the person who’s brilliant at seeing problems. They can spot a flaw in a plan from a mile away. They’re the first to point out what’s wrong, what could go wrong, and why it’s probably a terrible idea. They have an eagle eye for detail and a cynical streak a mile wide. But when it comes to thinking about solutions or responding with constructive action? Crickets. They see, they diagnose, and then they… complain. It’s like a doctor who can perfectly identify an illness but has no idea how to treat it.
Then there are the thinkers. Oh, the perpetual thinkers! These are the people who can analyze a situation from every conceivable angle. They’ll create flowcharts, pros and cons lists, SWOT analyses, and probably a thesis on the philosophical implications of their dilemma. They’re so busy thinking, contemplating, and hypothesizing that they never actually do anything. They’re stuck in analysis paralysis. The seeing might have been clear, the thinking is exhaustive, but the responding? A distant dream.
And of course, we have the responders. The doers. The “let’s just get this done” brigade. They might not always see the full picture, and their thinking might be… shall we say, streamlined? But boy, do they act! Sometimes this is fantastic. It cuts through bureaucracy and gets things moving. Other times, they charge ahead without fully considering the implications, creating a whole new set of problems. They're all action, little reflection.
These aren’t necessarily bad traits in isolation. We need people who can see problems, people who can think them through, and people who can take action. The challenge, and the real art, lies in integrating them. It’s about creating a balanced symphony, not a solo performance.
The Inner Dialogue: The Engine of Thinking
Let’s talk more about the thinking part. This is where the magic (and the madness) truly happens. It’s our inner dialogue, our internal monologue. It’s the conversation we have with ourselves after we've seen something that requires our attention.
When I saw that laundry mountain, my initial inner dialogue was a frantic “No, no, no! I can’t deal with this! It’s too much!” It was full of excuses and justifications for why now was not the time. This is our ego, trying to protect us from discomfort or failure. It’s a very natural, very human reaction.
But then, a different voice piped up. A calmer, more rational voice. “Okay, it is there. What’s the actual issue? It’s just clothes. And it needs to be done. How can I make it manageable?” This is our rational mind, or our higher self, if you like. It’s the part that’s able to step back, assess objectively, and find solutions.
The key here is to become aware of your own inner dialogue. What are the dominant narratives playing out in your head when you encounter a challenge? Are they dominated by fear and avoidance, or by curiosity and problem-solving? Are you your own worst critic, or your own best ally?
This isn’t about beating yourself up for negative thoughts. It’s about noticing them. And then, gently, deliberately, choosing to steer your thinking in a more constructive direction. It’s like practicing a new skill. The more you do it, the more natural it becomes.
The Power of the Pause
One of the most powerful tools we have in this process is the pause. That moment between seeing and thinking, or between thinking and responding. It's that breath you take before you react. It's the space where conscious choice can happen.
In the heat of the moment, when that rogue sock appeared, I could have easily just shoved it back under the sofa and declared victory over the visible evidence. That would have been a knee-jerk response. No pause, no real thinking. The laundry would have continued to grow, silently but surely.
But I paused. I took that mental breath. And in that pause, I allowed myself to acknowledge the situation. To not immediately shut down. To allow the thinking process to begin, even if it started with a bit of whinging. That pause is where we reclaim our agency. It's where we shift from being a passive recipient of circumstances to an active participant in shaping them.
Think about a time you’ve regretted a hasty decision. Chances are, you skipped the pause. You saw, you thought (maybe for a millisecond), and you responded. Fast. Too fast. Now, think about a time you handled a difficult situation with grace and effectiveness. I bet there was a pause. A moment of considered reflection. A chance for your best self to emerge.
This applies to everything. A difficult conversation with a colleague? Pause. A frustrating customer service call? Pause. A moment of doubt about your own abilities? Pause.
Responding with Intention: Beyond Just Doing
And then there’s the responding. We’ve touched on it, but let’s delve a little deeper. Responding isn't just about reacting. It's about acting with a degree of intention. It’s about aligning your actions with your thoughts and your desired outcomes.
My initial, unthinking response to the laundry was to hide it. That was a response, but it lacked intention beyond immediate relief. My intentional response was to tackle it, piece by piece. That involved a plan, a strategy, and a commitment to seeing it through.
What happens when we respond without intention? We often find ourselves in a cycle of fixing problems that keep reappearing. We’re constantly putting out fires, rather than addressing the root cause. It’s like a leaky faucet. You can keep mopping up the water (the response), but until you fix the tap (the thinking and intentional response to the underlying issue), it will never truly be resolved.
So, how do we cultivate intentional responding? It starts with clarity about what we want to achieve. What’s the ideal outcome? For me, with the laundry, it wasn’t just about getting it clean; it was about regaining a sense of order and control in my living space. That clarity helped guide my actions.
It also involves breaking down the response into manageable steps. The laundry mountain was overwhelming. But sorting it into smaller loads? That was manageable. Each small load completed was a step towards the intended outcome. This principle applies to any goal, big or small.
The Ripple Effect: How Our Responses Shape Our World
It’s easy to think of this process as purely personal, a solitary journey within our own minds. But the truth is, our seeing, thinking, and responding has a ripple effect. It impacts everyone and everything around us. Your decision to finally tackle that presentation? It impacts your colleagues, your boss, and the success of your project. Your choice to respond to a friend's difficult news with empathy rather than judgment? It strengthens your relationship and can make a world of difference to them.
Consider this: if you're constantly stuck in the “seeing” phase, only pointing out flaws, you can create a negative and uninspiring environment. If you’re stuck in perpetual “thinking,” you can paralyze a team with indecision. And if you’re always “responding” without reflection, you can cause chaos.
But when we master the cycle – when we see clearly, think deeply and constructively, and respond with intention – we become powerful agents of positive change. We don't just react to the world; we shape it. We move from being victims of circumstance to creators of our reality.
So, the next time you find yourself staring down your own personal laundry mountain – whether it's a literal pile of clothes or a metaphorical challenge – remember the process. Take a breath. See what’s in front of you, truly see it. Allow yourself to think, to explore your options, to have that internal dialogue. And then, respond. Respond with intention, with awareness, and with the knowledge that your actions have the power to create something better.
And hey, if all else fails, at least you'll have cleaner socks. Which, in my book, is a win. Keep observing, keep pondering, and keep moving forward. You’ve got this.