Stop Studying Your Life and Start Living It

On Commitment, Attention, and Actually Living Your Life

A friend asked me a question two years ago that I couldn’t shake:

“Do you think you’re analysing life more than living it?”

The question annoyed me because I knew he was right.

I’ve been drawn to personal development for 25 years - reading books since my early teens, building businesses, training in multiple modalities, creating programs.

I’ve accomplished things. But I’ve also noticed a pattern: sometimes the pursuit of growth becomes its own trap.

Overanalysing instead of being present.

Optimising instead of experiencing.

Studying the journey rather than being in it.

I’m a breathwork facilitator and I train breathwork facilitators.

I teach somatic therapy and guide people through the process of getting out of their heads and into their bodies.

And yet, when my friend asked that question, I had to face an uncomfortable truth:

Sometimes I’m better at studying transformation than practicing it.

The Wake-Up Call

Two years ago, I moved to Thailand with aspirations of starting a new life.

I was 36. And felt capable of everything but committed to nothing.

Men’s work. Breathwork. Corporate consulting. One-on-one coaching. Personal development workshops. Meditation programs. Authoring a book on Shadow Work.

I wasn’t “known for” anything anymore.

I was capable in many areas but committed to none.

I was staying on the surface, keeping my options open, never going deep enough to risk actually failing at something that mattered.

I was pursuing comfort - the comfort of having backup plans, of never being wrong because I never fully committed to anything.

But what I really needed was the discomfort of actually choosing.

While I was there, I met a famous strength coach. He told me I was one of the reasons he’d moved to Thailand. Years before, I’d been a well-known personal trainer myself with a podcast, and he’d been a listener.

And here I was, spread across a dozen different directions, while he’d gone all in on one thing and made a name for himself. The mirror was uncomfortable.

The previous decade had been about exploration - necessary and valuable.

But there comes a moment when exploration becomes avoidance.

When treating life like a dress rehearsal - waiting until you’re “ready” - becomes a way of never actually stepping onto the stage.

What Deserves Your Full Attention?

Two questions changed everything for me:

What actually deserves my full attention?

And what do I want this chapter of my life to be about?

For me, the answer was clear: teaching breathwork and training facilitators.

Not dabbling in it while also doing six other things.

Going all in.

Committing to mastery in this one thing.

But here’s what most people don’t understand about commitment: the word “decide” comes from the Latin decidere - which literally means “to cut off.”

When you decide something, you’re cutting away everything else.

That’s why deciding feels like death. It’s the death of alternative possibilities. The death of “maybe someday.”

The death of the fantasy that you can be great at seventeen things simultaneously.

It also means accepting who you actually are - not the person you think you should be.

Not the person who can excel at everything.

But the person who chooses depth over breadth.

So I decided. And then I cut.

I moved back home to Ireland. I stopped doing men’s work. I severely limited my corporate work. I stopped the personal development workshops. I began to refine and simplify all areas of my life.

It took time to find the stability and clarity that would allow me to build something real.

From Leftover Attention to Full Attention

When you’re spreading yourself across too many things, you give everything your leftover attention. The tired attention. The fragmented attention.

But when you cut away what doesn’t matter and reorganise your life around what does, you suddenly have actual capacity.

You have energy.

You have presence.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t consuming content about seventeen different modalities. I wasn’t planning projects in seven different directions.

I was present.

Focused.

Building something real.

And here’s what surprised me: when I stopped being so concerned with results - with being good at everything, with keeping all my options open - I became more effective at the one thing I’d chosen.

My breathwork school went from being one project among many to being the project.

The quality improved.

I could actually serve my students properly instead of giving them whatever attention was left over.

The paradox: the moment I stopped trying to be capable in everything, I became genuinely valuable in one thing.

A year after returning to Ireland, I moved to Bali, where I now live.

Not as someone trying to start over while juggling everything, but as someone who’d finally decided what mattered.

The Two Extremes

I’ve noticed two extremes when it comes to self-inquiry.

There are those completely dismissive of reflection - “just do it” - and those caught in endless reflection, preparing for a life they’re not quite living yet.

The people who never reflect often build impressive lives in directions they didn’t actually choose. They’re meeting impossible productivity standards but never asking if those standards are actually theirs.

The people who only reflect have insights but not the wisdom that comes from testing those insights against reality. They’re holding back until they feel ready. Treating every day as rehearsal instead of the actual performance.

The middle ground is where the magic happens: living an examined life, but not at the expense of actually living.

Four Steps to Decide What Matters

If this is resonating, here’s a simple process:

Step 1: Write it all down.
Everything you’re currently doing, learning, planning, maintaining. Get it out of your head and onto paper.

Step 2: Ask the two questions.
For each thing on your list: “Does this deserve my full attention?” and “Is this part of what I want this chapter of my life to be about?”

Step 3: Identify what you’re cutting.
What needs to die so something else can fully live? What discomfort are you avoiding by keeping your options open? Remember: decide means to cut off.

Step 4: Reorganise everything around what remains.
Actually change how you spend your time. Stop consuming content about things you’re not committed to creating in.

The Invitation

What actually deserves your full attention?

What do you want this chapter of your life to be about?

Where are you pursuing comfort - the comfort of keeping options open - when what you actually need is the discomfort of choosing?

Where are you treating life like a dress rehearsal, waiting to feel ready, when the performance is already happening?

You cannot give your full attention to everything. Trying to do so is just a sophisticated way of giving your full attention to nothing.

For me, that meant cutting away everything except teaching breathwork and training facilitators. For you, it might be something entirely different. But the principle is the same.

Two years later, living in Bali, I don’t regret the things I cut away.

I don’t regret deciding.

What I would regret is getting to 46, or 56, or 66, and realising I spent my entire life being capable in many things but committed to nothing.

Never accepting that life is short, and meaning comes from leaning into the uncomfortable places.

You have enough knowledge, enough frameworks, enough insights.

What you need isn’t more information.

It’s more commitment.

More willingness to be present in the journey rather than endlessly optimising the outcome.

Decide what deserves your full attention.

Cut away what doesn’t.

Stop treating this as a rehearsal.

This is it.

This is the performance.

That’s where the breakthroughs live.

Not in the next book.

Not in the next course.

Not in keeping your options open.

In you.

In your full attention.

In your willingness to choose discomfort over comfort.

In your commitment to being present rather than endlessly analyzing.

It always has been.

Grá Mór,
Pat