Break Goals Into Systems

My journey from lofty ambitions to everyday systems that actually work

Invocation:

“Atmano mokshartham jagat hitaya cha”
(For one’s own liberation and the good of the world)

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This reflection is offered in the spirit of service to anyone who, like me, sets noble goals and yet often finds them overwhelming. If you’ve ever felt inspired and then suddenly unsure of what comes next, I hope something in these words resonates with you where you are, just as others’ words have with me before.

Almost always, I feel a burst of clarity and energy when I set a high-aimed, meaningful goal. And almost always, I find myself overwhelmed by the sheer distance between the present and that envisioned future. There’s an initial rush and then, quite soon, a quiet weight. Over time, I’ve come to recognize this loop. I’ve lived it often. And what I share here is not a grand theory or system. It’s just a humble realization from walking through that cycle enough times..

The real breakthrough, for me, has not come from setting bigger goals or trying harder. It has come from a quieter, more grounded shift: building systems that reshape my days and eventually, my identity. These systems are not perfect. They are not rigid. But they are consistent, and they hold me when motivation does not.

Let me share what I mean by that.

I recently completed a full year of continuous strength training. I’ve been meditating every day for the past six years. I also hold a job that I find both challenging and fulfilling. I lead a team of thoughtful and intelligent developers, and together we work on systems that help traders navigate the constant stream of information from stock exchanges worldwide.

These practices — gym, meditation, and professional commitment have stayed with me not because I’m disciplined by nature, but because I gradually built structures around them. I created rhythms that felt natural. I sought guidance when I could have drifted off course. With strength training, I had a virtual coach who would call me three times a week. She guided me, adapted things to my body, and kept me showing up. With meditation, I have a teacher I visit occasionally — someone who keeps me grounded, reminds me to enjoy the practice, and ensures I don’t slip into a mechanical routine.

These areas of my life have flourished because I built gentle systems around them. And perhaps more importantly, because I asked for help.

Not everything, though, has followed the same path. I’m not a great cook. But I’ve found ways to stay nourished — simple protein-rich meals from Chipotle and my favorite local Indian restaurant serve me well. I’m not the most organized person at home either. My space is functional but far from perfect. Some would call it minimalist; others would call it messy. But it works for me. It doesn’t stress me out. And then there are my plants, definitely not in their best shape. I water them, sometimes with love, sometimes absent-mindedly. They probably need more than I give. I mean no harm. I just haven’t made it a system yet.

And maybe that’s the whole point — some things in life aren’t urgent or essential enough at a particular phase to be systematized. I don’t stretch myself too thin to become excellent in every domain. I focus on where I feel the pull, and where I can serve more deeply.

But what happens when something new arises? Something I feel should become part of my life? For instance, I recently set a goal to write 50 Substack posts this year. And as soon as I put it, I saw an image: myself as a writer, someone people read and reach out to, someone who distills life’s fog into something clear. It’s a beautiful image. And yes, I credit my imagination for painting it.

But the real question is — what comes after the goal?

That part is often left unspoken. You’re inspired, and then you’re alone. You must now forge a rhythm, carve a process, and commit without a cheering squad. That’s the real challenge. And over time, I’ve found only one answer that works:

Convert the goal into a system, and let that system gently reshape your identity.

If you want peace, build a daily meditation and journaling habit. If you wish to be healthy, build a daily practice of movement — gym, walking, running, anything. If you want financial steadiness, show up at work every day with sincerity, and let trust compound over time. And if you want to write, which is the goal I am currently drawn to, I am trying not to obsess over metrics or readership, but to write daily, even quietly, until writing becomes an integral part of who I am.

But please — don’t try to do it all alone.

There’s a reason communities exist. A reason teachers appear. There are writing groups, coaching circles, monasteries, Vedanta Societies, and Zen centers. There are good-hearted people who want to help you grow if only you seek them out. YouTube is a good place to begin, but not to end. Use it to discover the right voices, but don’t let it replace real contact with teachers or fellow seekers.

And so I say: if you want to build a writing habit, join a community that nudges you to stay the course. If you're going to develop a fitness practice, consider getting a trainer who can witness your early steps and guide you through the uncertainty. If you want to deepen your meditation, visit someone who has already walked that path. If you live in the U.S., consider visiting a Vedanta Society or researching a nearby Buddhist retreat. You’ll find what you’re truly looking for when you’re ready to sit in silence, ask sincerely, and stay steady.

In all of this, remember: identity does not change through occasional effort. It changes through daily presence.

The fundamental transformation — the one that doesn’t shout but quietly endures — happens not through intensity but through continuity. When you do something every day, with humility and intention, it stops being a task. It becomes a part of you. It builds grooves in your being. And one day, without drama, you notice you no longer struggle to keep up. The system is now second nature to you. And from that center, your light begins to shine not just for yourself, but for others, too.

May these reflections serve someone, somewhere.

May they find a home in a heart that needed to read this today.

And may the spirit in which this is offered — that of service to the Divine in all remain alive in every word.

Ciao.