Yesterday at lunch I was opening a can of tuna. Mundane, right? The pull-tab was almost broken, I had little time (pasta was almost ready), and the can opener was broken. I know my mind felt the problem. Not as a conscious thought like “oh no, broken opener,” but as a sensation that triggered a rapid chain of decisions. I grabbed a knife. I knew the aluminum lid was thin and weak on the edges. A few precise strikes and it gave way. With what remained of the tab, I opened it.
Mundane, yes. But in that moment I experienced something fascinating: awareness of awareness (meta-awareness). I saw my mind observing itself while creating connections. Reticular thinking applying the physical concept of structural failure. The speed at which I implicitly recalled a principle of physics and applied it. And I realized I had realized. That is metacognition.
The awareness of how you think
I could define metacognition academically, but we live it every day. It’s the moment you think about how you’re thinking. It’s that voice saying “okay, I’m ruminating” or “wait, I’m building something coherent here.” It’s the mind’s capacity to observe itself while it works.
Since it became conscious in me, and I mean conscious in the sense of observable, practicable, not just academic, it changed everything. I didn’t become a different person. I remain who I am, with my limits. But the speed at which I interpret a situation, the precision with which I decide, the way I manage complexity: everything became sharper.
Here’s where it gets interesting. Before metacognition, my decision-making style was different. When a client asked me “Can we do it this way?”, I’d respond “Yes, we can do it this way. Or this way. But if you want, maybe we could also try doing it this way.” Three possibilities. The third was the one trying to please them, offering a middle ground that was actually forced. And you know what happens when you force a solution just to get agreement? It wears everything out and ultimately doesn’t even help the other person. The solution isn’t pragmatically valid.
With metacognition, that mechanism stopped. I observe the problem, I observe how I’m thinking about the problem, and I say clearly “Here’s what I recommend, and here’s why.” No third possibilities. No apologies. Active stewardship, as I defined it last week, means occupying your decision space without self-justification. It’s incredibly liberating.
The moment of seeing your mind work
The tuna can story isn’t accident. What happened was this: I had an urgent problem. My mind observed the problem. Then, and here’s the key moment, it observed itself solving it. It saw both levels simultaneously. It recognized the lid’s structure. It applied the principle of material failure. It chose the exact force and angle. And I, at the same time, saw that mind working. Not from inside the thought, but from the observatory of awareness.
This is the power of metacognition: it’s not that you suddenly think better. It’s that you see your thinking happen. The cognitive bandwidth that was previously clogged with rumination, with seeking approval, becomes available. It frees up. And suddenly you can use it for what you actually know how to do.
I saw this same thing happen in my client decision. No dancing around the issue, no seeking agreement at all costs, just my experience applied with clarity. And you know what? Clients with real value recognize why I made that choice. And if they don’t? It’s a non-issue. Because it would have only created friction in an already complex relationship.
How you start observing your mind
All this sounds abstract without concrete practice. So: how do you start?
Grounding is the most useful technique for me. Not to escape the problem, but to create space between you and your thinking. When you feel your mind racing, moving in cycles – that’s the moment. Stop. Feel your feet on the floor. Feel the contact of the chair. Touch an object around you, feel its texture. Not to calm yourself (though that helps too, but it’s not the main goal). But to create distance from which to observe.
Once you have that distance, ask: “How am I thinking about this moment?” Not “what am I thinking,” but the how. The structure. The pattern. Are you dancing around the issue? Are you seeking three possibilities when one is right? Are you ruminating on something you can’t control? Or are you creating reticular connections that solve the problem?
The golf swing helps me reset when my mind is overloaded. But grounding helps me observe. And observation is where change begins.
If we all started reasoning about it
Metacognition isn’t a rare ability. You already possess it. But like many things we possess, the degree of depth and application makes the difference. If we all truly started observing how we’re thinking, not to judge the thought, but simply to see it, we could unlock the next level of our minds.
That level where reticular thinking isn’t rare anymore. Where difficult decisions become clear. Where complex problems reveal their structure. Where serenity isn’t the absence of difficulty, but clarity within difficulty.
These past few days I’ve slept better. Not because life is simplified, the bias still attacks, work remains complex. But because my mind is freer. Less noise. More signal. I feel myself moving with precision.
If you recognize this in you, that moment when you saw your mind working, where thought became sharper, let’s reason through it together. This is the true power of the rhizome: it’s not that I teach you, it’s that we observe together how the mind actually works.