I was walking along the beach with my husband and our dogs. The sun was glinting off the water like it was flirting. A row of sailboats floated on the horizon, picture-perfect in the golden hour glow.
And a thought popped in, as gentle as the breeze: I love seeing sailboats. But I hate sailing.
I’ve tried. I get seasick. The kind of nausea that makes you wish for an escape hatch from your own body. So no, I don’t enjoy sailing. But watching sailboats? I love it. The way they drift and lean, the geometry of the sails against the sky. They’re poetry in motion…from a distance.
With that thought, I realized I’d been evaluating life through too narrow a filter. For years, I’ve mentally sorted experiences into two basic buckets: Like or don’t like. But that binary misses the nuance. Because there are things I adore observing, but would never want to participate in. There are things I find exhilarating to imagine, but would never want to live.
And this new lens—observation, participation, imagination—suddenly gave everything a richer texture.
Let me show you what I mean.
I love watching people picnic. The soft blankets, the laughter, the open Tupperware and fizzy drinks. It’s charming. Wholesome. But me? I don’t like picnicking. The ants. The awkward sitting. The wind flipping napkins into someone’s hummus. It’s not my vibe.
Or take sports. Watching a game live? The energy, the crowd, the aliveness of it all—I’m in.
But put me on the field and ask me to chase a ball? Absolutely not. My coordination never graduated middle school.
Or I love imagining life as someone else. A jazz singer in the 1920s. A monk in Kyoto. A warrior queen. But I don’t actually want to be any of those people. Not really. I just want to borrow their lenses for a while, peek through the windows of their lives. I love doing that.
I even love observing kids making mud pies or elaborate sand castles. But do I want to join in? Not particularly. I’ll clap from the sidelines.
This new framework didn’t just make life more interesting, it made it more honest. Because not everything you admire is meant to be yours. Not everything you enjoy watching is something you’d enjoy doing. And that’s not a flaw. That’s self-knowledge.
There’s freedom in recognizing the ways we relate to the world around us.
Observation is a kind of appreciation.
Imagination is a kind of intimate dance.
Participation is a kind of embodied devotion.
And the more clearly I understand how I enjoy something, the more I get to actually enjoy it. Without guilt, comparison, or unnecessary striving.
So here’s your invitation:
Try on the lens of observation, participation, and imagination.
Think about the things you enjoy. Ask yourself:
Do I love watching this or doing it?
Do I love imagining this, but not actually living it?
Am I forcing myself to participate in something I’d rather just observe?
There’s wisdom in the nuance.
Because maybe your peace isn’t found in forcing participation, but in honoring the quiet joy of witnessing.
Maybe your aliveness isn’t always in the doing, but in the dreaming.
Maybe your truth lives in the clarity of how you want to relate.
And once you know that?
You stop wasting energy trying to be the picnic-er when you were always the picnic appreciator.
Let yourself love things in the way that fits.
Even if that fit is from the edge of the scene, smiling as the sailboats glide by.
P.S. Would it be helpful to have someone on hand while you seek clarity on how you want to relate to what brings you joy in life? We can search for nuance together through lenses of observation, participation, and imagination. Find out more about my coaching here.
