Over the past few weeks, I’ve stepped away from my usual rhythm of Google calls, all-day meetings, and daily firefighting. I didn’t realize it at first, but I think I was quietly edging toward burnout. Taking a pause has been much needed.

A few months ago, I read Cal Newport's book Slow Productivity, and it planted a seed. It sparked a shift in my thinking—a realization that I needed to reevaluate my own life and work: slowing down, doing fewer things but doing them better, focusing on high-impact work, resisting the hyperactive work culture, and finding clarity through simplicity.

I believe the best work emerges from that intentional space.

I decided to put this belief to the test. It’s been rejuvenating to tap into stillness and to trust the creative unknown again.

Here are the questions guiding my reflections:

• Where do I want to focus my energy?

• Who are the people I truly want to work with?

• What have I learned over the last 11 years working with companies? (Should I write about them?)

• What parts of my job do I genuinely love?

• And most importantly: What problem do I want to solve next?

That last question is my guiding force:

“If there isn’t a problem, there isn’t a story.”
— Stanley Kubrick

A problem is at the root of design. It drives everything we do, from how we develop empathy for users to how we evaluate whether we're solving the right challenges for the product or business.

This framework feels straightforward when examining someone else's product or organization. Customer friction points stand out clearly. A team's dysfunctional processes become obvious.

But it's much harder when applying it to yourself. Why is that?

“The first principle is that you must not fool yourself—and you are the easiest person to fool.”
— Richard Feynman

Perhaps it's because the "you" gets in the way. You're too close to your own problems to clearly see them. It’s like trying to read a book with the pages pressed right up against your face.

When offering advice to others, it’s easy to say, “If I were you, I’d…” But would you? Facing the same situation yourself, clarity becomes elusive, and executing becomes even harder.

That’s why outside perspectives can help. They offer distance, clarity, and perspective. They're not clouded by personal attachment or bias.

What I’ve come to realize is how much I love helping clients see their problems clearly and designing effective solutions for them quickly. It’s incredibly rewarding to offer clarity and direction through design.

I’ll share more soon—but until then, I encourage you to pause and ask yourself:

“What’s the next meaningful problem you want to solve?”