The Morning Ritual: Finding Traction in a World of Distraction
It sounds like tapping.
The spring rain meeting the remnants of last fall's circle of life. The blue jay’s call while haranguing the natives. The cardinals’ chirp to report their domain. And the fox giving one last check on where I used to leave the bird feeder. Displeased that his easy meal is not where he surely left it. The turkeys clean up the scraps.
All this life, and it's barely 6 a.m. while the world sleeps.
Morning is my sacred time. Especially in the spring. The rebirth is a special muse. It's in these hours I retreat to my dark office to meet the sun, where I write words like these while the amber light slowly works its way across my keyboard — a symbolic sundial of the future.
My life wasn't always this way, and some days it still isn't. Unhealed wounds and behaviors have a way of resurfacing when you least expect them. But generally, my antidote is simply intention. And this time I covet in the morning is where I protect and set this intention.
On mornings like this — when new leaves drip heavy with morning dew and light dances through wisps of fog and fleeting clouds — I set esoteric intentions like love and appreciation. It’s easy with such a backdrop. I cultivate presence and stillness with the sounds of the forest to remind me of the ever-present tranquility — if you only look for it.
But I also set actionable intentions. During this time on Tuesdays, I write content for marketing. On Fridays, I create for products. All still aided by nature's presence. It's why I moved to the woods, though this sanctity was available to me even in the city for many years.
I share this not as a creative writing exercise or to suggest I've reached some Zen-like enlightenment. I share this because my brain is as chaotic as the entrepreneurs I work with. My mind, like theirs, tends toward incessant 3-a.m. chatter and manic midday episodes, a clutter of creativity and chaos. My mind is no monk — it's more monkey. It spends much of its waking hours chasing shiny things.
It's just that I've learned — or developed — a method to maintain some degree of control, if even for only a few hours. What I've discovered is that by setting and protecting these few hours before the world wakes, I get the 2% I need to compound my life.
The Entrepreneur's Paradox
My monkey mind — like yours, I suspect, if you're reading this — caters to the notion of big wins and grand slams. Big ideas that move mountains and change the world. The entrepreneur’s agency is both gift and curse: through it, we've learned our will can be forced upon the world for the better; a powerful drug. But like any drug, without checks, addiction follows. And if we use the definition of addiction I ascribe to — the progressive narrowing of that which gave you pleasure — it sums up the worldview of most entrepreneurs. Where we once loved and craved our ability to change the world, one day it suddenly became a 200-lb rucksack stapled to our bodies. Every move a painful reminder it's there.
This was my reality, too, until I discovered the distraction-action paradox. After thousands of hours working with busy entrepreneurs, I noticed a pattern: No one lacked action or ideas — quite the opposite. Every client I worked with was in a situation they wanted to change, certain they hadn't cracked a code, mastered a skill, or found an answer. But with every single one, upon deeper examination, it was never about what they were missing — but rather what they needed to put down.
That's when it occurred to me: Most choices in most lives, most of the time, are distractions. Actions taken in response or reaction to a stimulus. What also emerged was another type of action: Traction. These were actions designed from intentions, in pursuit of creativity.
Distraction vs. Traction
Once I recognized these patterns, I could segment them, separating actions into two buckets: Distraction and Traction.
It's worth noting that distraction isn't just the buzzword synonymous with doom-scrolling through social media. Distraction is far more prevalent and insidious. It can be defined as any action that doesn't deliberately move you forward. By that definition, most people's actions are distractions. Because the opposite of Traction is distraction. The opposite of forward movement isn't just backward movement — it's also stagnancy.
Which is where the mind comes in.
Because you are a human reading this, your mind works like mine and everyone else's — it’s a giant defense mechanism of self-preservation. It favors homeostasis: normalcy and energy conservation. It avoids novelty and uncertainty for fear of wasted energy. And herein lies the irony.
The mind, in support of saving energy, favors habits and routines of normalcy, which are the antithesis of momentum. So here we sit, wheels spinning out of normalcy, wasting energy, trying to avoid uncertainty.
Ninety percent of what we do goes unnoticed, and within that 90%, most reflects the mind's preference for distraction. But this comes with the disappointing realization: "After all this time, I'm still right where I started."
The Two Buckets
The distraction bucket is more like a dumpster: massive — and where most of our stuff ends up. The traction bucket is much smaller, more like a paint can. A magical paint can in which whatever color you need in that moment emerges when you dip your brush. With it, you paint a beautiful, fantastical canvas that morphs each stroke perfectly into what you intend. This spell is cast by one word: Curiosity.
The distraction dumpster overflows with certainty. It’s where all the knowing ends up, filled courtesy of "becauses" and "can'ts." The traction can brims with curiosity, replenished by "what ifs" and "why nots."
While this may read like magical thinking, here's the pragmatic truth:
The distraction dumpster is life's constant. No one can defeat or delete it. Much of what we do is waste in pursuit of consumption. The traction can is also omnipresent in every life — the question is whether you fill it. And the real magic? Traction compounds. It's not about eradicating distraction. It's about setting and protecting time to fill the traction can. It’s about intention. This small daily action results in perhaps a 2% change in a day, but 2% over a week, month, and lifetime is astronomical.
The Calendar Reveals All
This isn't a call to arms for morning routines. It's a call to traction — to find time every day for intention. To meet the calls of creativity and curiosity despite the harassing presence of certainty and distraction.
If you show me your calendar, I can predict your future. If it reads like most I see, it's packed with appointments, meetings, responsibilities, and tasks — all responding to today's needs and reacting to yesterday's events. But if — and it's a significant if — I see just one small sliver blocked out each day that says "create" or is simply blacked out so nothing else can intrude, I know in that moment that wherever you're trying to go or whatever you're trying to accomplish, you will succeed. If that space isn't there, we have work to do.
Find that moment. Create your future. Embrace curiosity. Explore nature. Be present. Your future depends on it.
Your Turn: From Distraction to Intention
If you recognize yourself in these words — if your days overflow with reactions rather than intentions — you're not alone. Most entrepreneurs I work with arrive exactly there: accomplished, driven, and somehow still feeling stuck in cycles of distraction.
At Paradigm Collective, we specialize in breaking these cycles. Our coaching and consulting framework isn't about adding more to your plate — it's about helping you identify what to put down so you can pick up what truly matters. We create customized accountability structures that honor your unique vision while establishing the daily habits that lead to compound growth.
Ready to find your traction? Schedule a complimentary 30-minute Strategy Session where we'll examine your current patterns and identify your first steps toward intentional growth. No pitches, just clarity — because that 2% shift begins with a single protected moment.