Without clarity, even strong focus can be wasted on the wrong thing.
In my coaching, I often find clients don't have a 'focus' problem, at least not in the way they think. They often think the real issue is any of these:
Managing distractions
Finding time for deep work
Deciding on priorities
Saying No
But when I ask them what really matters to them... what I get back is a to-do list, a string of projects they feel half-obligated to, goals that sound good on paper but don't light them up.
The real problem isn't their productivity or discipline or not being able to push back: it's that they're unclear about what's truly worth their focus in the first place.
That’s why I’ve turned my own life into a 30-day lab for clarity.
I’m not starting from scratch. I’ve spent years coaching others on this, building my CORE focus framework, and applying it in my own work. I’ve read the books, tried the tools, and shared insights along the way.
And yet, or maybe because of all that, it feels worth running an experiment. Frameworks and experience are valuable, but they can also become comfortable. An experiment forces me to go deeper, to stress-test what I think I know, and to stay open to what I might have missed.
One week in, here’s what I’ve found.
Clarity isn't a solo act
The first thing I noticed this week: clarity comes through conversations.
Some of these conversations were with people. A friend reminded me of a simple truth:
“We overestimate how much we can control, and underestimate how much we can influence"
I spoke it out. But it was triggered by something she said. Saying it out loud made it land for me.
The link to clarity: when you accept that you don't control much, you stop chasing & clinging. You let go of a bunch of goals and projects and shift naturally to the few things that really matter to you. And you're happy with focusing on those, even if you can't spell out exactly how you'll realize them. Plus: don't expect clarity to be a solo act. Insights often come through stepping outside, and e.g. having a conversation.
Besides conversations with others, some were with myself. Daily journaling became a simple but powerful practice. I captured thoughts I would have otherwise forgotten. Looking back at those notes, I noticed patterns and questions repeating. And when it came time to write this post, I wasn’t starting from a blank page. I was assembling pieces that were already waiting for me.
And, unexpectedly, some of the best conversations were... with AI. I built a few prompts that turned out to be surprisingly helpful partners:
A Life Portfolio Coach prompt that asks follow-up questions like a real coach would and outputs a life portfolio app based on your personal values and choices/opportunities (still refining it and will share with you in the next weeks)
A Perspective Taker prompt that helped me see my choices from angles, some outrageous, some playful, that you wouldn't typically consider (sharing with you at the end of this post, ready to copy-past in your favourite tool)
A Bold, Weird Results prompt inspired by
’s recent article on creative prompting that generated questions I never would have asked myself. My favourite questions:If I had to explain my life’s priorities to a time-traveler from the year 3025, what three things would still make sense across a thousand years?
Which of my current goals would sound ridiculous if I had to defend it to a brutally honest 8-year-old?
Which activity would I keep doing even if nobody ever noticed, praised, or paid me for it?
What pursuit would I devote myself to, even if it costs me dearly?
Whom do I love enough to serve and forgive?
What am I clinging to that leads to suffering?
I'm stardust organizing itself for a moment. From this perspective, what does still matter?
What's my part in the cycle of life?
When all this is over, what will remain meaningful?
Am I clinging to the menu instead of tasting the meal?
Am I playing the game, or has the game started playing me?
What struck me was how these tools didn’t just give me new ideas. Because the AI “remembers” past exchanges (if you allow it), it also resurfaced reflections from earlier conversations, things I might have forgotten. In that sense, it felt like talking not only to myself today, but also to the me - more accurately: parts of me - of last week.
Clarity, I’m realising, isn’t a solo act. It emerges in dialogue with friends, with a journal, or with a machine that mirrors back parts of myself I might otherwise ignore.
Stop adding
This week I made a deliberate choice: no new books, no fresh articles, no podcasts - at least not on the topic or with the goal to 'gain more clarity'. At first it felt wrong, almost irresponsible as I had promised to share insightful resources with you. But then I noticed how clarity comes when you expect it least.
This happened in three ways:
1) Doing something totally unrelated: painting a wall at home. I know this sounds a bit like Mr. Miyagi and Daniel-San polishing a car.
I didn't intend this to teach me anything about clarity. I just needed to get the wall painted. But it really turned out to be a little funny lesson. My instinct was to rush through it, to get to the end. When I slowed down though, the act became almost meditative. Brushstroke after brushstroke, I saw the wall differently. It was less a task for me to get through and more something taking shape in its own time. The painted wall took a while to dry, so it took patience to see if more brushstrokes were needed or if it was fine as is. What clicked for me: clarity can come the same way. Not by forcing it all at once, but gradually, as you give things space to settle.
2) Instead of piling on new inputs, I worked with what was already there. Connecting old notes, revisiting past reflections, testing small shifts in daily life, like being more present in conversations, or running my own AI prompts in new ways. Journaling tied it together, capturing patterns I might have missed.
3) Stripping back also created space to zoom out. I revisited my purpose, mission, and vision. To check if they still felt true and then modify them. Why am I here? What kind of future am I working toward? How exactly am I contributing to it? These aren’t new questions, but in the absence of fresh noise, they sounded clearer.
I’ll admit: I wasn’t sure I’d get much out of this first week of experimenting.
I’ve done so much work on clarity already. Coaching, frameworks, reflection. But the simple act of being open, of trying something new, of holding myself accountable by writing to you each week… and of showing up daily in my journal… it’s already paying off in ways I didn’t expect. And that's worth continuing.
So, I'm stepping into week 2 of this self-experiment and I'll share the highlights with you soon.
Perspective Taker Prompt
Copy-paste the following prompt into your favourite AI chatbot (I use ChatGPT). You can play around with the prompt, e.g. being more precise with ‘what matters most’ or the output you expect or the perspectives (e.g. add your favourite philosopher or historical person or novel character):
Help me gain more clarity about what matters most. Take the perspective of the following beings: how would each of them look at the question. What question would they ask? How would they approach finding a solution? What's a powerful mantra/aphorism they'd share?
-> Marie Curie
-> Jesus
-> Buddha
-> Carl Jung
-> Bertrand Russell
-> Alan Watts
-> the devil
-> an alien visitor
-> a rain worm
-> a deceased person
-> a 2-year old