Systems as Spiritual Practice

I used to think systems were about control.

Calendars, routines, workflows—tools to squeeze more from the day. Make life efficient. Make self-improvement measurable.

But lately, I’ve come to see them differently.

Not as instruments of productivity, but of presence.

A good system, at its best, isn’t about getting more done. It’s about returning.
To what matters. To what you’ve already chosen. To yourself.

That shift has been quiet, but profound.

These days, I wake before dawn. Not because it’s optimal, but because it feels sacred. I sit. I breathe. I walk the dog as the light changes. These aren’t tasks to complete. They’re rituals to anchor me.

There’s nothing flashy about it. And that’s the point.

Spiritual life isn’t just the peaks — insight, awe, transcendence. It’s also the repetition. The turning back. The systems that hold you when you’re not sure what you believe, or when discipline feels distant.

In product leadership, we talk about “falling to the level of our systems.” That what we intend to do matters less than what our environment enables. The same is true of spiritual life. We don’t become grounded by willpower alone. We become grounded by rhythm.

And rhythms are built.

Over time. With attention. And yes—with systems.

There’s a sacredness in the mundane when it’s chosen.
A weekly review. A morning walk. A digital sabbath.
Not hacks, but hinges.

Small repeatable acts that keep your deeper intentions alive.

I’ve come to believe that designing systems is a spiritual responsibility. Not because it’s impressive, but because it’s honest. Life is messy. Intentions drift. Our higher self doesn’t always lead.

But a well-built system can make it easier to return.

And maybe that’s the work—not to push harder, but to be held better.
Not to transcend chaos, but to compost it.

So now, when I map a habit or sketch a new routine, I ask different questions.

Not “How can I optimise this?”
But: “What kind of person does this help me become?”
“Who or what does this honour?”
“Can I build something simple enough to keep showing up to?”

Because in the end, a system isn’t just a structure.

It’s a statement of belief.

And when built with care, it’s a quiet kind of faith.

Still thinking.