What happens when you trust your feelings over perfect conditions
Labor Day weekend.
Clear blue sky, barely 80 degrees, low humidity. A blessed break from the heat and monsoon rains we’d been enduring all summer. Perfect kayaking weather.
I mean perfect. The kind of day that makes you feel guilty if you don’t do something spectacular with it.
My husband and I had talked about getting the kayaks out. It would be absolutely glorious on the water. The kayaks had been sitting there all summer, practically taunting us from the garage. We hadn’t been out in months.
But here’s the thing: we just didn’t feel like it. And that’s when the mental acrobatics began.
The Voice That Never Rests
You know that voice, right? The one that sounds so reasonable, so responsible:
“We should go because the weather is perfect.”
“We haven’t gone in ages — what’s the point of having kayaks if we never use them?”
“It will be so nice out on the water.”
“This weather won’t last forever.”
“We’re wasting this beautiful day.”
My voice seemed particularly loud about this, though my husband later admitted he’d been having the same internal argument. For about half an hour, I wrestled with what we “should” do versus what we actually wanted to do.
The “should” felt so compelling. So logical. So… optimized. But we both just wanted to stay home.
Often the most radical thing you can do is honor what you actually want instead of what you think you should want. Image Source: Sarah from Pexels
The Moment of Relief
When I finally brought it up, expecting to have to convince him we should go kayaking, he looked relieved.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said. “I really don’t feel like hooking up the trailer and driving to the boat ramp either.”
The relief was immediate. For both of us.
And then we had one of those conversations that makes me remember why I married this man. About shoulds. About the seductive belief that there’s always a better moment somewhere else in the future — something other than this one. About the invisible rule that perfect weather creates an obligation to be actively, productively enjoying it.
But Wait, There’s More
That same weekend, I had another optimization crisis.
Endless unstructured time. Zero obligations. Perfect studio lighting. My art supplies literally calling to me from the next room.
Why didn’t I want to create? How could I waste such a perfect opportunity for artistic flow?
But I simply didn’t feel like painting. Or collaging. Or anything else. I felt like reading and lounging and doing absolutely nothing productive.
Cue the same mental gymnastics: “You should be in the studio. This is precious creative time. You’re wasting this gift of spaciousness.”
But you know what? I wasn’t wasting anything. I was living my actual life instead of some theoretical optimized version of it.
The optimization trap shows up everywhere — from perfect weather to perfect creative opportunities. Image Source: RapidEye from Getty Images Signature
What Actually Happened
Instead of kayaking OR creating, I spent the entire afternoon on our porch swing with a good book.
Cicadas humming their late-summer song. Bees visiting the last of the summer flowers. A symphony of woodpeckers, wrens, even barn owls starting their evening calls. A gentle breeze that felt like nature’s own air conditioning.
Was it spectacular? Maybe not in the Instagram sense. Was it perfect? Absolutely. But here’s what really drove the lesson home.
The Teachers in My Backyard
As I was reading, I watched a group of white-tail deer emerge from the woods at the edge of our property. Not to graze, though they do that often in that spot. Not because they were on high alert for danger.
They just… laid down in the open grass and relaxed.
No agenda. No optimization. No concern about whether they were making the most of the perfect weather.
They weren’t worried about wasting the day. They weren’t mentally reviewing all the other places they could be or things they could be doing. They were doing what felt natural to them in that moment.
They were just simply being. And watching them, my heart melted. Because that’s what I’d been doing too: just being, in that moment, exactly where I was.
What if this moment — exactly as it is, exactly as you are — is already perfect? Image Source: Photology1971 from Getty Images
The Optimization Trap
This pattern shows up all too often for me:
- Feeling guilty for a slow morning when I “should” be working, organizing or at the very least in the studio creating
- That voice that says sunny weather means I “should” be in the pool
- The bicycles in our garage silently judging me on beautiful riding days
It’s always the same underneath: This moment would be better if I were doing something else with it.
But here’s what I’m finally realizing: just because you own something doesn’t mean you have to optimize every opportunity to use it. Just because the conditions are perfect doesn’t mean you’re obligated to take advantage of them.
The most radical thing you can do is honor what you actually want instead of what you think you should want.
The Bigger Truth
When did we decide that every moment needs to be optimized? That perfect weather creates an obligation to have perfect experiences? That staying home on a beautiful day is somehow “less than” going out and actively enjoying it?
Who made the rule that a porch swing and a book are inferior to kayaks and adventure?
This belief — that there’s always a better choice, a more meaningful experience, a more productive use of time waiting somewhere else — is quietly stealing our joy.
People spend entire lives doing things for show while missing the real beauty of being alive: feeling the warm sun on their skin, the breeze in their hair, the sweetness of being the only witness to a single dragonfly landing on their hand.
I think the deer have it right. What if this moment — exactly as it is, exactly as you are — is already perfect?
Here’s What I Know Now
There is no such thing as a “wasted” moment. There is only right here, right now, and any value judgments about it are just mental noise.
Perfect weather doesn’t require perfect plans. Beautiful days don’t come with obligations attached.
Sometimes the most radical thing you can do is choose what feels right over what looks right. Sometimes the porch swing is exactly where you’re meant to be.
Ready to stop optimizing every moment and start enjoying this one? I share insights about questioning invisible rules and trusting your own wisdom in The Freeflow Rebellion. Join conscious rebels who’ve learned that this moment is always enough.
