When Systems Fall Apart

Even the best systems break.

A sick kid. A bad night’s sleep. A flood of meetings. A wave of doubt.
Or sometimes… nothing happens at all. The rhythm just slips.

I used to take that personally.
If I can’t stick to my system, what’s wrong with me?
I’d rewrite the whole thing. Rebuild. Refine. Add complexity to solve for inconsistency.

But what I’ve come to understand is this:

A broken system isn’t always a failure. Sometimes, it’s a signal.

A signal that something’s shifted.
That a season has changed.
That you’re no longer the same person who designed the structure in the first place.

And that’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.

🍂 Systems Must Weather Seasons

No system should assume permanent conditions.
What works in summer might wilt in winter.
What supports focus during solitude may feel stifling in community.

Our calendars rarely reflect this. But our bodies know. Our energy knows. The land knows.

So now, when a system unravels, I don’t panic. I listen.

Is this resistance? Or a request for change?

Is this sabotage? Or simply time for a softer shape?

🧩 Rebuilding Isn’t Starting Over

When a system no longer holds, I no longer scrap it.
I sift it.

What still feels true?
What no longer serves?
What was aspirational—but never quite fit?

I write the answers out by hand. Often slowly. Sometimes stubbornly.
Then I build again, but lighter.

Every failure leaves behind something worth keeping.

🧘 Stillness ≠ Stuckness

There are times when no system feels right. No routine fits. No plan sticks.
Those times used to terrify me.
Now, I treat them like winter.

Not dead. Dormant.

Not lost. Lying fallow.

In those pauses, something deeper settles. A root I hadn’t noticed. A new need surfacing.

Eventually, structure returns. And when it does, it’s wiser. Closer to truth.

The point of a system isn’t to stay perfectly intact.

It’s to carry us through change.
To offer rhythm where we might otherwise flail.
To remind us—especially when we forget—of what matters.

So when yours falls apart, don’t rush to rebuild.
Sit in the quiet. See what wants to return.

That’s the practice.

That’s the point.

Still thinking.