We live in a culture obsessed with hustle. Always trying to move faster, do more, and squeeze every ounce of productivity out of each day. But what if the real growth doesn’t come from speeding up, but from slowing down?
From sitting with our thoughts, even when they’re uncomfortable, and letting them teach us something. I’m learning that pausing to reflect, rather than react, has been one of the most powerful sources of clarity and growth during this season.
I’m Seth Greenberg, and I am not a journaler. I never have been.
I’ve always been a deep thinker, sometimes to my own detriment, but I haven’t traditionally sought out structured outlets for those thoughts. I never kept a diary as a kid. I rarely wrote down my thoughts unless I had to prepare for a speech or deliver a report.
We’re Still Here
When I lost my job in January of this year, I found myself staring at an unstructured calendar for the first time in nearly two decades. I knew I needed something to anchor me. That’s when I decided to start writing weekly reflections on LinkedIn.
At first, they were simply a way to process what I was experiencing and give some shape to a season that felt otherwise formless. They also gave me a “deliverable” in weeks when I felt like I was accomplishing very little.
I was also, if I’m being honest, searching for connection. Losing a job is lonely. Suddenly the emails and calls slow down. The sense of relevance you took for granted is gone. Writing became my way of saying, “I’m still here.”
What I didn’t anticipate was how much these reflections would resonate with others. Most every week, people I’ve never met reach out to say, “me too” or ask to connect with me.
It turns out there are many of us walking parallel paths, often in silence.
It’s a strange kind of intimacy, forged in vulnerability. By naming my own fears, frustrations, and small wins, I seem to give others permission to name theirs, and that has created a sense of community I didn’t expect.
Reflection In the Moment
A wise friend told me when all this chaos started that this period shouldn’t just pass and then be analyzed later. The real work is to learn, stretch, and expand in the middle of it, while it’s still uncomfortable and uncertain.
That is not easy. Reflection isn’t always pleasant.
Some days I’d rather scroll mindlessly or distract myself with busywork. But writing—whether it’s profound or completely ordinary—forces me to confront my situation, make sense of it, and choose what I will carry forward.
Reflection is not just about looking back. It’s about staying awake to where you are right now. It helps you see that not everything is bad and not everything is good, and that both can exist at the same time.
Perhaps that is the real gift of reflection: it slows me down enough to notice the good— conversations with my kids, a walk with my wife, a sunset after a hard day—even while acknowledging that this season can be really hard.
It helps me appreciate today’s roses while still noticing the mud around them and reminds me that growth can happen even here.
How about you? How has reflection served you during difficult stretches?
 | A guest post by
|
Seth, thank you for sharing your feelings on LinkedIn. I look forward to them (yes, really) as you put into words the feelings I had/have in ways that are very eloquent.