Most of us believe that if our intentions are good, our decisions will be too. I used to think so as well. But during my years on the Amherst Town Council, I learned that good intentions can still lead to harmful outcomes when they’re shaped by incomplete information, hidden biases, and the limits of our own perspective.

I expected disagreement on the council. What surprised me was something deeper: caring, thoughtful people often reached very different conclusions because each of us was seeing only part of the picture. We naturally give more weight to the people we hear from, the experiences we’ve lived, and the perspectives that feel familiar. Good intentions don’t automatically overcome those blind spots. They require skills.

One vote taught me this in a way I’ll never forget.

When Amherst considered an 18-month moratorium on new large-scale solar development, I intended to support it. Clearing forests for solar panels felt wrong, and a pause seemed like the environmentally responsible choice. Before voting, however, I deliberately sought out perspectives I hadn’t yet heard, including researchers at UMass Amherst studying the energy transition.

What I learned challenged my assumptions. Even a temporary pause on new solar development could slow progress toward the climate goals we were trying to achieve. As I shared what I’d learned during council deliberations, the conversation shifted. Several colleagues reconsidered their positions, and the moratorium did not pass.

That experience reinforced something I’d been studying for years: curiosity isn’t simply collecting more information. It’s deliberately looking for the perspectives we’re missing. Sometimes that changes our minds. Sometimes it strengthens our convictions. Either way, it helps us make better decisions, individually and together.

The challenge extends far beyond local government. We increasingly sort ourselves into like-minded groups, reinforcing what we already believe. We hear the loudest voices while quieter ones go unheard. We become more certain of our own position instead of asking what we might be missing.

After more than two decades of contemplative practice and my years in public service, I’ve come to believe that seeing beyond our own blind spots isn’t a personality trait. It’s a set of learnable skills: awareness, curiosity, compassion, equanimity, and others that help us pause between impulse and action. They allow us to respond thoughtfully rather than react automatically.

We often think of mindfulness as something that happens during meditation. But meditation occupies only a small part of our day. The real test comes during the thousands of choices we make afterward: how we listen, how we disagree, how we lead, and how we decide.

Healthy communities don’t require more agreement. They require people willing to question their own assumptions, seek out perspectives they haven’t considered, and recognize that even the best intentions can lead us astray. Good intentions matter. But without the skills to see beyond ourselves, they are not enough.

Shalini B. Bahl, PhD, is a former Amherst town councilor, teaches mindful marketing at UMass Amherst’s Isenberg School of Management, and is the author of “Return to Mindfulness” and founder of Sama Life.