The Quiet Strength of Sitting With Problems
And what The Human Condition taught me about slowing down
Welcome back to another Articles by Victoria, the place where I randomly write things I’m curious about.
While I was overseas for work, I thoroughly enjoyed reading The Human Condition by Hannah Arendt. It was the type of book which you can read for 3 hours during morning and evening work commutes, then put it down and thoughts start to form later at 5am. Or maybe that only happened to me haha.
My point is, these thoughts came to me unexpectedly, and it quietly lingers in the back of my mind until it demands to be written. So I started typing this article on my phone.
By the way, this is my 250th article written! And I'm thinking what a befitting article to celebrate a milestone :)
One of my sudden and random thought was that the most peaceful people are not the ones with the least problems. They just sit with problems longer.
And I don’t mean by sitting means overthinking. I don’t mean spiraling or replaying different scenarios endlessly. I mean they seem to accept that problems will always exist. There is no finish line where everything is solved and life becomes permanently calm.
For someone like me, this realization felt uncomfortable.
I have always been wired to fix things. If something breaks, I troubleshoot. If something feels off, I analyze. If there is friction, I look for the fastest way to remove it. Efficiency has always felt like control, and control has always felt like peace.
But somewhere along the way, I started to question whether constantly solving problems was actually making me more peaceful or just more restless.
That was around the time I picked up The Human Condition by Hannah Arendt.
I don’t usually read philosophy books. I like philosophical ideas, but I tend to consume them in fragments, through conversations with siblings or random late-night thoughts. Sitting through a full philosophical work felt like a commitment I wasn’t sure I had the patience for.
But this book stayed with me. It didn’t give me answers. It gave me space to think differently.
And in a strange way, it felt therapeutic.
So here are five key takeaways from the book, and why they feel more relevant than ever, especially in a world that constantly tells us to move faster, fix faster, and optimize everything. As my 250th article, this one is for my readers and my future self, to look back one day and see how far I've come.
1. We Are Obsessed With Doing, But Rarely Stop to Think
One of the central ideas in Arendt’s work is the distinction between different kinds of human activity. She talks about labor, work, and action, each representing a different way we engage with the world.
What struck me the most was how much of modern life is dominated by doing.
We are always producing, solving, building, optimizing. Even rest has become something we try to optimize (at least for me). There are routines for better sleep, systems for more efficient relaxation, and apps that track how well we are unwinding.
Somewhere along the way, thinking became secondary in our society.
I don't mean thinking in the sense of problem solving, but thinking in the sense of reflection. Sitting with a question without needing to answer it immediately. Letting a problem exist without rushing to eliminate it.
When I look at my own habits, I realize how uncomfortable I am with that kind of stillness. If something feels unresolved, I instinctively try to close the loop. Open tabs bother me. Unfinished tasks bother me. Even unanswered questions feel like something that needs to be cleared.
But Arendt’s work gently suggests that this constant doing can distance us from understanding.
Sometimes, the value is not in solving the problem quickly, but in allowing ourselves to fully experience what the problem is asking of us. This brings us to the next point.
2. Not Everything Needs to Be Fixed Immediately
This was probably the hardest realization for me to accept.
We live in a culture that celebrates speed. Fast decisions, fast iterations, fast results. In tech especially, there is this underlying belief that if something can be solved, it should be solved as soon as possible.
And to be fair, that mindset has its place. It drives innovation. It keeps things moving and prevents stagnation.
But it also creates a subtle pressure to treat every problem as "urgent".
Disclaimer: If it’s a P0, fix it now, not after a philosophical breakthrough.
This mindset is for problems that aren’t actively on fire
Arendt introduces the idea that human life is not just about production or outcomes. There is a rhythm to it. Some things unfold over time. Some problems require lived experience before they can be understood, let alone solved.
When I reflect on this, I realize how many times I tried to solve something prematurely or want answers immediately.
Relationships where I wanted clarity too quickly. Career decisions where I wanted certainty before I had enough exposure or understanding. Personal struggles where I wanted resolution without sitting through the discomfort.
In trying to fix things too fast, I often missed the deeper lesson.
There is a kind of peace that comes from recognizing that not every problem is meant to be resolved right now. Some are meant to be lived through. Some are meant to shape you slowly.
And sometimes, the act of rushing to solve them is what creates more tension and stress in the first place.
3. The Fear of Uncertainty Drives Need for Control
If I am being honest, my tendency to solve problems quickly is not just about efficiency. It is about control.
Uncertainty feels uncomfortable. It creates a sense of instability, like something is unfinished or unpredictable. Solving a problem gives a sense of closure. It restores order (mentally).
I really enjoyed Arendt’s work because it highlights something deeper about the human condition. We exist in a world that is inherently unpredictable, we know this but how many of us actually embody it?
Action, which she describes as one of the highest forms of human activity, always carries uncertainty because it involves other people, changing circumstances, and outcomes we cannot fully control.
Still, for someone fully aware of unforeseen and unaccountable variables, I was able to navigate uncertainty in the past by running multiple simulations in my head, analysing trade offs in excruciating detail and calculating the risks (anticipating and preparing backup plans if things "go wrong").
Yet, despite all the measures put in place to counter uncertainty, Arendt emphasize that it is part of being human.
This realization shifted something for me.
If uncertainty is inevitable, then trying to eliminate it completely is a losing game. The goal cannot be to remove uncertainty from life. The goal has to be learning how to exist with it.
And that brings me back to the idea of sitting with problems.
When you stop trying to control every outcome, you create space for something else. You become more observant. More patient. More open to perspectives you might have missed if you rushed to a conclusion.
Peace does not come from having all the answers. It comes from being okay with not having them yet.
4. Meaning Is Found in Process, Not Just Outcomes
Another idea that stayed with me is how Arendt distinguishes between activities that are cyclical and those that create lasting impact.
Labor, in her framework, is repetitive. It sustains life but does not necessarily create something enduring. Work, on the other hand, produces tangible results that can outlast us.
But what fascinated me most was her concept of action. Action is about interaction, about engaging with others, about participating in the shared world.
It is unpredictable, often messy and it cannot be fully controlled or optimized.
In a results-driven world, it is easy to prioritize outcomes over process. We measure success by what we achieve, what we complete, what we can show. It's like our KPIs in modern society.
But this mindset can make us overlook the meaning that exists in the process itself.
When I think about moments that felt truly meaningful, they were rarely about checking something off a list. They were about conversations, experiences, and even struggles that did not have a clear resolution at the time.
Sitting with problems is part of that process.
It allows you to engage with the experience more fully, rather than rushing to search for a solution. It gives you the opportunity to understand not just the problem, but your relationship to it and what it reveals about you as a person.
And sometimes, that understanding is more valuable than the solution itself.
5. Slowness Is Not a Weakness, It Is a Form of Strength
As a self-proclaimed part-time ponderer, I live in my head and contemplate a lot. This, I thought, was one of the most productive unproductive hobbies I had. And I was surprised to find that there is a subtle but powerful message in Arendt’s work about the value of contemplation.
In a world that rewards speed, slowness can feel like falling behind. Taking your time can feel like inefficiency. Sitting with a problem can feel like avoidance.
But what if it is the opposite?
What if the ability to sit with a problem without panicking, without rushing to fix it, without needing immediate closure, is actually a form of strength?
When I think about the people who seem the most grounded, they are not the ones who react quickly to everything. They are the ones who respond thoughtfully. They take time to process and they are comfortable with pauses.
There is a kind of confidence in that.
It is the confidence that you do not need to prove anything by reacting immediately. That you trust yourself to find clarity in time. You are not threatened by the presence of unresolved things.
This is the mindset shift that 2026 has been quietly bringing me.
I am starting to see that my instinct to solve everything quickly is not always serving me. It keeps me in motion, but it does not always bring me peace.
Learning to sit with problems feels unfamiliar, even uncomfortable at times. There is a part of me that still wants to jump in and fix things, to close loops and restore order.
But there is also a growing part of me that is learning to pause, observe and let things unfold a little longer than I am used to.
Conclusion
Reading The Human Condition did not give me a framework to solve my problems faster. If anything, it challenged the idea whether speed should be the goal/KPI at all.
It reminded me that being human is not about constantly optimizing our way through life but about engaging, experiencing and participating in it, even when things are uncertain, unresolved, or uncomfortable.
The random thought at 5am that the most peaceful people are the ones who can sit with their problems now becomes clearer to me.
They are not passive. They are not avoidant. They simply trust that clarity will come, but they do not force it.
Thanks for reading! I’m curious to know your own personal thoughts and experiences on this topic! Feel free to connect, send me an email (my inbox is always open) or let me know in the comments! Cheers!
