I’m reading The Mountain Is You by the pool today, sunlight flickering across the pages, and something inside me is rearranging — gently, but unmistakably.
We talk so often about “trust your gut,” as if instinct is some mystical compass pointing us toward the future. As if it knows what will happen next week, next month, next lifetime.
But the truth is quieter than that.
And far more grounding.
Instinct doesn’t work that way.
It can’t.
Instinct lives in the present moment.
It’s your nervous system responding to what is happening right now — not to imagined outcomes, projected fears, or hoped-for endings.
And this realization has changed how I listen to myself.
When Fear Wears the Mask of Intuition
So many times, I confused fear with intuition.
Urgency with clarity.
Projection with truth.
I tried to use instinct like a fortune-teller — asking it to reveal people’s intentions, the “right” decision, the safest direction. I wanted certainty before movement. Safety before trust.
But instinct cannot speak about what doesn’t exist yet.
What we often call a gut feeling about the future is usually a memory dressed up as a premonition — the brain trying to protect us from pain or pull us toward pleasure. A creative survival strategy. Nothing more. Nothing less.
The Difference Between Sensation and Wisdom
What I’m learning — slowly, steadily — is that peace doesn’t come from decoding every emotion.
It comes from choosing differently.
Clarity isn’t something I wait for anymore.
It’s something I cultivate.
By slowing down.
By noticing the first wave instead of riding it blindly.
By questioning urgency instead of mistaking it for guidance.
By choosing actions that create the emotional landscape I actually want to live in.
Because feelings follow choices — not the other way around.
Sometimes the body needs time to catch up to a decision the soul already knows is right.
A New Practice I’m Living Into
So this is what I’m practicing now:
Not assigning cosmic meaning to every emotion.
Not letting instinct pretend it knows the future.
Not abandoning myself for the comfort of old patterns dressed up as wisdom.
Just presence.
Discernment.
A soft, honest relationship with my inner world.
And decisions that gently guide me toward the life I want —
rather than the one my fear has been rehearsing.
Because when you choose differently,
you feel differently.
And that, to me, is the quiet revolution.
✨ An Invitation to Slow Down
If this reflection resonated — if you’re also unlearning urgency, fear-based intuition, and the need to figure everything out before you move — I share more of this work inside Slow Secrets.
It’s a space for gentle reframing, nervous-system-aware living, and choosing alignment over autopilot.
🌿 Begin here:
👉 https://slow-secrets-tribe.kit.com/starthere
