When You Don’t Like the World
When you don’t like something happening in the world… what do you do with that?!?
It’s a real question, not rhetorical. I ask it often—because I notice a lot I don’t like. And part of my brain doesn’t like that I notice so much.
But I’ve come to see how… noticing what doesn’t feel good is part of the gift. It’s the start of nearly everything that works well in our lives today.
You didn’t like waking up soaked after a nighttime rain. So you built a shelter.
You didn’t like how the wind came through. So you built walls.
The walls weren’t warm enough. So you built a fireplace.
The fireplace filled the room with smoke. So you added a chimney.
Bringing in wood got old. So you invented a furnace.
Nowadays, you don’t want to get off the couch to change the temperature. So you build a voice-controlled thermostat. “Yo, Alexa, raise the temperature 2 degrees.”
Every layer of comfort and ease—every technology and tool I value today—can be traced back to someone who didn’t like something… hated it even… and chose to make it better.
So when I find myself disliking what’s here—yes, part of me complains—but another part… feels awe. Awe and gratitude. Because this contrast, the thing that bugs me, the thing that draws my attention like a magnet, it might just be the seed of something better. Something beautiful. Something someone else will care about enough to co-create.
I think of my dad. He had a buzzer on his desk. When he had a thought he wanted to capture, he pressed it, and his secretary—who he paid well—would come in and take dictation in shorthand. She was so good at it! He could speak as fast as he wanted. She turned it into polished documents.
It was efficient, impressive… and a little unsettling to me. The idea of buzzing someone—interrupting their life—because my words were ready? I can’t imagine doing that. Especially at 6 a.m., when I often wake up with ideas pouring through me. I wouldn’t want to call someone out of bed for that. Their sleep matters.
But here I am, with tools that cost less than what my dad spent in an hour. I can speak freely. I can pour my thoughts out, messy and full of heart. A digital assistant transcribes, formats, even helps shape it into a story—for me to edit, or not. It’s astounding.
And it’s because someone didn’t like the old way. Because someone else wanted to create freedom—for both the speaker and the scribe.
That contrast? It wasn’t a dead-end. It was a gateway. A spark.
Everywhere I look, I see things I don’t like. And yes, it can feel overwhelming. Like… who am I to fix any of this? But then I remember—I’m not supposed to fix everything. I’m not even supposed to fix most things. What I can do is notice. Feel. Name the contrast. Let it be fertilizer. For someone. Maybe me. Maybe someone I’ll never meet.
I can choose whether the contrast inspires… or crushes. Whether it ignites curiosity and creation, or just drains me with helplessness.
That choice, that energetic retraining—where we focus, what we feed—that’s on us.
And if one of the things you don’t like in the world is how much your attention gets hijacked by things that don’t really matter to you… well, that’s a signal, too. You can tune your attention. You can devote it. You can reclaim your focus and pour it into something you do care about. Your own heartistry.
Even this story? It started with me not liking something. And ended with me feeling… grateful. Delighted, even.
That’s the power of contrast. And of choice.
Useful Concepts for Thriving in This Story
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Contrast
What we dislike can, with skill, re-focus our energy on what we’d like more of in our lives. -
Awareness
Awareness invites us to notice what’s real beneath the noise—and respond with care. -
Heartistry
Heartistry is expressing into the world what matters to you. -
Lifestyle Design
Lifestyle design is when we consciously choose what “thriving” means to us and direct our energy to co-create that together. -
Devotion
Devotion combines freedom alongside love, loyalty, and enthusiasm for people and projects that matter to us.