I woke up early this morning to finish and post an article I’d been writing for the past few days. And somewhere between the first sip of coffee and watching my cat sleep while listening to the raindrops, a thought hit me with the force of a jab to a kickboxing bag: Why do we observe? And how can being only an observer paralyze us and keep us from participating in our own lives?
Well, let’s accept that being only an observer is addictive. As observers, almost all of us believe that our real lives will begin shortly. This shortly that I am talking about here is not shortly today. Coz of course, today will be a day full of emails, laundry, watching someone on the internet run away and build a house in the mountains or seeing someone have a minute of fame.
And then we all think, well, soon I will also start something, maybe that novel, maybe a business, or maybe become a version of myself who wakes up earlier, drinks less coffee, and somehow will have a perfect life and then we think that just by observing, we will become the person whose life we have been bookmarking.
But this is what we do- we watch, and by we I mean most of us. We watch people move to cities we have not visited. We watch people fall in love in apartments with very good light; we watch people buy homes with gardens. We see them start businesses, quit jobs, train for marathons, bake cupcakes and cookies, and share their morning routines as if mornings need a strategy.
I have been there, where I used to observe other people constantly, and it slowly became a normal way to live—watching others live their lives. The only major change I have noticed is that, years ago, you had to go out to observe. But now you can see someone live the life you want in just a minute. Thanks to those ringlights, you can’t miss any of them. You can watch them wake up at 5 a.m., journal, do yoga, meditate, drink something green, answer emails, and give a motivational talk on how to live. It’s convincing because it looks like the start of a story that most of us still feel like is ours when we will start our lives. But it’s not today.
And then we go back to waiting. The odd thing about waiting for your life to start is that it makes you feel like you are serious about it and that you must start only when you are perfect. It feels responsible and mature. But is it?
The loop of I just need to get a few things sorted first

I have been there, so I know how it goes. It’s the legendary sentence: “I just need to get a few things sorted first.” Which is true and sounds reasonable, since there’s always something to sort out—usually money or time, or just the feeling that you’re not ready yet. This idea, that one day, you’ll be more organised, confident, and qualified, is a picture you have painted for a future self that doesn’t really exist.
Still, we spend a lot of time getting ready for that future self. We save ideas, trips, conversations, and even dreams for this future self. We say things like, “One day I’d like to live somewhere else.” It’s a nice phrase, because ‘one day’ never asks anything of you.
It’s not laziness, since laziness is a choice. The word “One day” is a choice that takes you down a path where you live a draft of your life. You save the best clothes for special occasions, keep a recipe book but never try any of those dishes, put off taking risks, skip self-care, and file bold ideas under ‘eventually.’ Meanwhile, life keeps moving forward. The weeks and years pass, but we keep thinking the real story is still ahead, and entertain the idea that we’re just warming up.
How comparison sabotages participation

Imagine if you did not have your phone and never saw people who seem to have it all together, who live in cities you like, have cool jobs, and have already started. You would then never watch them share their journey, talk about the big leap, and discuss the decision that changed everything.
Then you could not be misled, because you would understand that it sounded like it had always been the plan. In reality, people who change their lives rarely start with a plan. They begin small, sometimes feeling awkward—signing up for that dance class, joining theatre, learning a new language, booking a flight to a new city with no return ticket and wondering if it’s a mistake. Trust me, it doesn’t look impressive in the moment; it can’t coz it’s unedited.
In the edited version, uncertainty is removed, the awkward moments are gone, and the late-night doubts are replaced with a reel song. Real life doesn’t give you a voiceover or background music. But it does give you chances to be a little braver than usual—or not.
Think about how many people have wanted to write a novel for years. They’re serious about it. I am one of them. I have thought about it a lot, and even have nice notebooks to take notes in. And a few years ago it hit me that I have been waiting for a moment when writing feels justified. And then I learned that I need to start, and I can assure you starting to participate in your own life does not look like an edited movie with award-winning choreography and Zimmer’s background music.
You know what it looks like? It looks like confusion. But this is a fact -confusion is how most interesting lives begin.
Why do we delay participating in our own lives?

I was a person who used to be a pro at delaying participation, who kept thinking and delaying, and the conditions and circumstances of my life gave me good enough reasons to justify the delay.
We all wait until we feel we are a hundred per cent ready to start something that might go wrong. This waiting can last for years or even a lifetime. People talk about learning a language or living somewhere new. They mention starting a project every month, often sounding a bit embarrassed, as if the idea has worn out from being repeated.
These talks usually happen in cozy places—cafes, living rooms, or on walks—where everyone agrees they’ll do something interesting someday. The thing about ‘someday’ is that it puts all the responsibility on a future version of you that doesn’t exist yet.
Meanwhile, you fill the time by watching others do what you want to do. You see them publish books, quit bad jobs, run marathons, or get healthier. They might say it was bound to happen, but it rarely is. Most lives that change didn’t look perfect while they were changing. They looked messy and uncertain, just like you might feel now.
But these people did something different. They applied before they felt ready, moved when it didn’t seem practical, and some started with no proof it would work. It looks bold, maybe even impatient. Eventually, you realize the future life you imagine depends on the choices you keep putting off now.
How to feel ready to start?

If you are wondering how to start, try something small today. Make a list of one thing you have always wanted to do and take a single step toward it, no matter how minor—like take a demo class for your hobby, watch a tutorial video on YouTube, write the first sentence of your novel, go out for a walk, or send a message to someone who inspires you. Choose a simple action that does not require a new plan or perfect conditions, just a willingness to move from thinking to doing.
Even one small move can shift you from observer to participant.
This realization doesn’t come at a dramatic moment. You’re not staring at the ocean thinking about your future. It happens while you’re doing something ordinary—answering emails, sitting in traffic, waiting at the airport, or watching someone talk about how they changed their life. Suddenly, you wonder: what isn’t going to happen before the part you’ve been waiting for?
I personally have always wanted to write like Nora Ephron. I absolutely adore her, and if I could write forever, I would write with her voice in my head. As an observer, I would only think about writing but wouldn’t attempt to write a page, but as a participant, I now create articles, blogs, and content, and that has changed my life. Not the thoughts of I will do this when but knowing I will do this even when.
Gentle Reminder: life is moving whether you participate or not

It’s a hard truth, but the life you are waiting for is already underway, with or without your participation.
Once you realize this, it’s harder to just watch your life go by. What’s in the way is the way. We all dislike admitting that we might be the ones holding ourselves back.
We all want to grow. So move with intention, work out for fun, drink more water, dance, laugh, pray, and realize that what’s in your way is you. It is always you and you versus you. You never saw it before. Coz you loved making your life safe and predictable, like a smooth, well-lit sidewalk—easy for others to follow. You played it safe, kept things small and tidy, and got good at it.
The problem was never the circumstances. You built a life where nothing challenged you, so you could just watch from the outside and comment. It was comfortable. You learned to imagine a better life without ever trying. The future always looks good from there.
The future version of you who finally does everything always seems impressive, mostly because for this version you never have to actually show up.
Once you see this, it’s hard to ignore how common it is. It’s not that you lack ambition—you have plenty. What’s missing is the willingness to risk being a little embarrassed in public while your story is still unfolding. Watching is safer than trying, and the hardest part is believing you’ll change your life later.
There’s no sure sign to tell you if you’re just watching or if the spotlight is on you. So, who are you—an observer or a participant?
—Love, G

Geeta, who likes to be called G, when not working, can usually be found reading a book, spending (perhaps a little too much) time meditating, practicing yog, or just vibing in the present moment like a mindfulness pro. And—despite claiming she knits very badly—she still picks up the needles now and then. Blogging to share her life learnings is her passion!
