You’re reading Infinite Momentum: a Sunday reflection followed by 130+ thoughtful executives, founders, and creatives navigating growth, change, and clarity.

Last week, we talked about starting, even when it’s messy or small.
This week is about something just as powerful: knowing when to pause.

Because sometimes the next best move isn’t another push. It’s a step back.

Whatever “it” is — the career choice, the strained conversation, the problem your brain keeps prodding at when you’re trying to sleep — maybe it doesn’t need to be fixed today.

Maybe it’s not ready to move yet, and you can’t force it, no matter how badly you want to. For better and worse, that’s not failure. That can be part of the work.

There’s a quiet pressure inside most high performers: the need to resolve.

We love to fix. To optimize. To solve.

Sometimes that’s a superpower. At other times, it leads to the classic 3 a.m. spiral — running through every scenario, chasing a clarity that never comes.

My sleep tracker keeps receipts. It knows how many nights I’ve lost trying to solve something I should’ve just set down. But it’s not always that easy.

Psychologists call it rumination — the illusion of progress through mental spinning. It’s exhausting. You end up drained, with nothing to show for it.

I’ve spent most of the last year thinking like crazy. Strategizing, planning, trying to solve. Probably most of my life.

But the truth is, some of the most important things that happened to me this year, if I’m being honest, I didn’t see coming.

I didn’t see the LA wildfires coming.
I couldn’t have predicted the career-shifting opportunities that hit my inbox.
Even some of the most challenging conversations arrived out of nowhere.

No amount of thinking would’ve sped them up or stopped them.

And it makes me realize that a lot of the hours I spent “strategizing” and “scenario planning” were truly just wasted cycles and wasted energy.

I spent a lot of time trying to solve things that never even materialized.

So maybe it’s not always about thinking more.
Maybe it’s about making space and letting life meet you.

Lately, I’ve been thinking more about the Serenity Prayer. I memorized it as a kid, but the third line hits different now:

That last line? That’s the real work for me.

Because if you push when it’s futile, you burn out.
If you pause when it’s time to move, you’re cowardly.
But sometimes it’s really hard for me to definitively know the difference.

Stillness isn’t quitting. It’s a strategy.
It’s where clarity lives. It’s how we build discernment.

And in a season like this — late July, inboxes slow, kids off school, bodies craving sun — maybe the friction you’re feeling isn’t failure. Maybe it’s just a signal to pause.

So get out on a dock in Muskoka. Watch the sunset fold into the Pacific.
Or step outside and sit still for five minutes. You don’t have to earn it. Just listen.

The most honest reflection this week might not come from more thinking, but from making space to hear what’s underneath it.

This week’s nudge:

See you next Sunday,
Eric

P.S. You’re not falling behind. You’re learning when to pause.
That’s a power move, not a retreat.