Paying Attention to Attention

Russ Powell
3 days ago
8 min read

Updated: 15 hours ago

Paying Attention to Attention — *Manager thinking about two systems -- one mechanical and one biological*

A Short Fable

A man visits a monastery to learn how to focus.

A monk sets two cushions by a window. "Attention," he says, "is like a flame. We protect it."

They close their eyes. The room settles.

Breath in.

Breath out.

For the first time in years, the man feels his mind slowing—centered, grounded, still.

A loud buzz erupts from under the monk's robes.

The teacher opens one eye, checks his smartwatch, and smiles.

"DoorDash. I totally forgot," he says. "You like pizza?"

The monk isn't careless. He's sincere. And still, his attention wanders.

That's the problem we keep missing.

Leaders talk about attention as if it's something we either have or lack—something we can optimize, hack, or reclaim with the right app or habit. But the challenge runs deeper than interruption. Meetings skim the surface. Listening feels rushed. Decisions get made too quickly or too late. Teams appear aligned but struggle to follow through.

We may have adopted the wrong idea of what attention is.

We're Using the Wrong Model

I think I’ve been thinking about attention wrong for most of my career.

I’d go further: most leaders have.

We talk about attention like something we can optimize or hack our way back to with the right app or morning routine. But I keep watching smart, capable leaders struggle with the same pattern: meetings that skim the surface, decisions that get made too fast or get stuck indefinitely, assumed agreements that were never actually named or negotiated, teams that look aligned on paper but can't execute.

Something's off—and it’s not just distraction.

A recent New York Times essay helped me see this more clearly: "The Multi-Trillion-Dollar Battle for Your Attention Is Built on a Lie." The core argument isn't just that Big Tech is stealing our focus (which it is). It's that the entire way we think about attention is based on the wrong model.

We treat attention as if it were part of a machine. Something measurable, finite, optimizable. A resource you can extract and allocate.

But humans aren't machines. We're living systems. And living systems don't work like mechanisms. They're adaptive, relational, emotional. They get messy and chaotic—especially when under pressure. Attention doesn't behave like RAM in a computer. It shifts based on meaning, relationship, and context.

When you approach attention mechanistically, distraction looks like a leak to be plugged. The solution seems obvious: block, filter, optimize, add another productivity tool.

And yet here we are. Decades of productivity systems, mindfulness apps, leadership training—and most leaders I talk to feel less attentive than ever.

When the solutions don't work, it's often because they're solving the wrong problem.

Where This Shows Up

You've seen this. Maybe you've lived it.

The strategy session where everyone nods along, but three months later nothing's changed. The hiring decision that felt right in the room but completely wrong after the person starts. The one-on-one where you thought you were crystal clear, but your report walked away with a totally different understanding.

You're not bad at focus. You may be missing what your attention is trying to tell you.

The costs are not abstract. Decisions get made with half the picture. Tension remains underground. Trust erodes in ways you don't notice until someone quits. Teams keep moving, but something essential—some vitality—has slipped away.

Psychologist Gloria Mark found that the faster people switch their attention, the higher their stress levels—measured both physiologically and through self-report.

“We find a correlation between the frequency of attention switching and stress. The faster attention switches, the higher stress becomes.” –Gloria Mark, PhD, Speaking of Psychology

Human attention isn't just about where your eyes land or how long you can concentrate. It's about what you notice, what you ignore, and what you decide matters.

That's where the machine metaphor falls apart.

A Different Way to Think About Attention

There's a surprisingly useful counterpoint to all this, and it comes from a 16th century Spanish soldier turned theologian, teacher, and founder.

Ignatius of Loyola wasn't interested in productivity. He was trying to help people make wise choices in complex, emotionally charged situations. His answer wasn't willpower.

It was attention—but not attention as concentration.

For Ignatius, attention meant noticing—thoughts, feelings, impulses, patterns over time—and reflecting on what those signals might be pointing toward. Over time, that became the capacity to notice what was actually happening—in himself, in others, and in the system—so he could respond wisely rather than react automatically.

Attention is the capacity to notice what’s actually happening—in yourself, in others, and in the system—so you can respond wisely rather than react automatically.

The goal wasn’t control. It was alignment. Getting clearer about what actually mattered versus what was simply loud, urgent, or emotionally charged in the moment.

This kind of attention slows reactive decision-making. It helps you see patterns instead of treating everything like an isolated incident. And it helps you choose actions that reflect what you value—not just what’s demanding your attention right now.

Ignatius encouraged people to practice this regularly. Not as a one-time epiphany, but as a habit. The assumption was straightforward: if you don't actively reflect on where your attention goes, something else will shape it for you.

This isn't about going full monk. It's about developing a skill that most leaders need and very few were taught.

Where This Costs You: Decisions

Picture a high-stakes decision.

The data's incomplete. Time's tight. Your attention narrows. You're focused on speed, certainty, reducing risk—the cleanest answer, the strongest signal, the most defensible move.

That's reasonable. It's also where attention can quietly screw you over.

Through a mechanical lens, you ask: Do we have enough information? Can we decide now? How do we reduce uncertainty?

Fair questions. But not the only ones that matter.

A more human view of attention includes different things. Not just the facts, but the assumptions underneath them. Not just the loudest voices, but the patterns that keep resurfacing. Not just the urgency of right now, but the values shaping the choice.

I see this in meetings all the time. A decision lands on the table, the conversation accelerates toward resolution, and attention locks onto closing it out. But sometimes what matters most isn't the decision itself. It's what keeps circling around it—the same concern phrased three different ways, the sudden quiet after someone floats a proposal, the energy shift nobody acknowledges.

Those moments are information-rich—if someone's paying attention.

Here's what it actually looks like: Your VP of Product keeps bringing up technical debt, but frames it differently each time. That's not repetition—that's a signal something's unresolved. The meeting ends, everyone leaves aligned, and two weeks later you're re-litigating the exact same issue because the real concern never got named.

The cost isn't just the wasted meeting time. It's the delayed launch. The rework. The engineer who quits because they saw this coming and nobody listened.

Where This Costs You: Difficult Conversations

This narrowing gets even worse in difficult conversations.

When stakes are high and emotions are running hot, you're trying to track multiple things at once: what you want to say, how it might land, the outcome you're aiming for. And you're also trying to attend to the other person—what they care about, what they're reacting to, what they want, what they're not saying.

Under that kind of pressure, attention collapses toward self-protection. Listening narrows. Curiosity disappears. The conversation becomes something to survive. The other person stops being a whole human and becomes an obstacle you need to get past.

This is where attending becomes more than a communication technique. It's a practice—an essential practice.

A practice of noticing your own reactions in real time. A practice of staying connected to what you're actually trying to accomplish. A practice of continuing to see the person in front of you—not just as a role or a problem, but as someone—a fellow human—who matters.

Think about the last conversation you avoided or completely botched. The performance issue you've been dancing around for two months. The co-founder conflict that makes every board meeting tense. The feedback you keep softening because you're worried about the reaction.

What happens when you don't address it? The issue spreads. The person you were counting on leaves. The team watches and learns that hard things don't get addressed here.

These aren't just awkward moments. They're expensive ones.

What Actually Changes

When leaders start paying attention differently, things move.

Decisions stick because you addressed the real issue, not just the urgent one. Meetings get shorter and fewer because people stop circling and start naming what's actually happening. Difficult conversations still feel difficult—but they stop derailing your team for weeks afterward.

Your burn rate doesn't change. Your market doesn't get easier. But you stop hemorrhaging time and money on problems you created by not noticing what was right in front of you.

The practice isn't complicated.

In your next decision: notice what keeps coming up that you keep setting aside.

In your next meeting: notice the energy shifts, the repeated concerns, the things nobody's naming.

In your next hard conversation: notice when you're protecting yourself instead of understanding the other or solving the problem.

Can you balance inquiry and advocacy—stay genuinely curious about what the other person cares about while also staying connected to what you care about and the task you’re trying to accomplish?

This isn't about being slower or more thoughtful for its own sake. It's about being effective.

Paying Attention as a Practice

The monk wasn't failing. He was being human.

The practice isn't eliminating distraction. It's noticing—again and again—where your attention drifts, and then deliberately bringing it back .

That doesn't require special tools or a meditation app. It requires regularity. A few minutes at the end of the day: Where did my attention go today? What stood out? What might I do differently tomorrow?

So the next time your attention drifts—don't just yank it back.

Pause. Notice what pulled it. And ask:

What is this moment asking me to pay attention to?

Additional Resources

For readers interested in exploring these ideas further:

“The Multi-Trillion-Dollar Battle for Your Attention Is Built on a Lie,” New York Times (Opinion, Jan 2026)
Ignatius of Loyola – his Wikipedia page
Research on Directed Attention Fatigue in cognitive psychology
APA “Speaking of Psychology” – “Why our attention spans are shrinking,” with Gloria Mark (podcast episode) from the American Psychological Association
Hidden Brain – “You 2.0: Deep Work” (podcast episode featuring Cal Newport)
The New Yorker – “What It Takes to Put Your Phone Away” (essay discussing Cal Newport and Jenny Odell’s How to Do Nothing)

Most teams don’t stall for lack of talent.

They stall when attention is treated like a mechanical resource—something to allocate, optimize, or force.

This shows up as:

priorities that look aligned but aren’t
decisions that drag—or get made too fast and revisited
meetings that circle without resolving the real issue
difficult conversations avoided, rushed, or mishandled

Leadership and the Middle Path helps leaders shift from managing people like machines to leading teams like living systems.

Participants build practical leadership skills, including:

listening well under pressure
noticing patterns instead of chasing symptoms
making clearer requests and agreements
solving problems collaboratively
navigating difficult conversations without losing trust

Battle-tested in more than 150 startups and Fortune 100 companies.

Join the next series—and bring your team.

For more info | To register

Developmental, performance, and transition coaching for leaders

Sometimes leaders need more focused support

not because they lack capability, but because the stakes have changed.

This moment often looks like:

decisions that feel heavier than they used to
recurring patterns you can see but haven’t shifted
assumptions and agreements that keep breaking down
important conversations you’re preparing for—or avoiding i

In those moments, the issue usually isn’t effort or intelligence.

It’s where attention narrows under pressure—and what gets missed as a result.

Coaching creates space to slow things down just enough to notice what’s actually happening—in you, in others, and in the system—so you can respond deliberately rather than react on autopilot.

I offer developmental, performance, and transition coaching for leaders who want to: