How to Find the Answer You Need
Methods for practically tuning into that inner knowing.
Back with a bit of audio today, should you wish to listen in…
I write to you today, the morning before my 31st birthday, full of advice, but also a renewed intention to drink my own medicine.
To allow myself the time and space for more clarity.
Because although it might initially sound woo, it is in fact incredibly practical to acknowledge that how to find the answer to anything...
... is to listen in to what your mind is saying.
Or your heart, or gut, for that matter.
Your inner knowing might sit in several places.
This is not to say you will already have the answer in full. That if you want world peace all you need is a cuppa and a bit of quiet time to figure out how to achieve it. Or that your financial worries can be solved by you and you alone. Or that if you fancy taking up crocheting, you'll one day be able to dive right in, unpacking your new needles for the first time, if you just stare off into the middle distance for long enough.
This is to say though that with a bit of space to sit and think, with a journal and pen for company or with closed eyes and crossed legs, or even a quiet ponder as you walk, you can start to think through uncertainties, uncomfortable pain points, and niggling to do list items.
And through this quiet thinking - and listening - consider what's stopping you from having already taken action. That action might be merely acknowledging that actually you already know the answer.
Is it a feeling of uncertainty?
Time as a blocker?
Illness or lack of energy?
Figure out what's coming up for you, then think about the best next step.
Just one thing.
That is the answer. Sometimes it’s the whole answer. One and done. Sometimes it’s the answer you needed to get to today, to get a foot on the ladder of where you need to be to ultimately figure it all out.
Pause. Listen. Go.
Unless you're a very influential global leader, or like, God (and even then…) world peace might be hard to achieve. But what is it about that want, that desire, to see or do something good that you can really tap into? Is it about leaving your private sector job for something in the third sector, where you can lend your social media skills to the campaigns team at a conflict resolution organisation? Or does it feel more aligned to look for impactful volunteer opportunities, at home or internationally?
If you let yourself noodle on your finances, do the issues that crop up there feel like mindset stuff, or more material matters? Are you scared to ask for a payrise because you haven’t researched industry standards, so you don’t know what to negotiate around? Have your monthly mortgage payments gone up, and it’s beyond needing to sell a few things on Vinted to help make ends meet?
It’s not easy to sit with these thoughts - trust me, I know - but doing so is essential to propel ourselves forward and not get stuck in a rut. By giving space to get to the heart of the issue, the uncertainty or the worry, we can figure out what next step we can take ourselves, and where we need to bring in expert help.
In the context of finances, that could mean utilising the services of a debt helpline, a call to the bank, or a root around in consumer finance guidance via Money Saving Expert. If it’s that crocheting hobby you’re wanting to get into, likely a teacher is needed, but does that work better for you via an online tutorial, a local class, or a friend who can show you the ropes (or wool)?
The crucial next step is determining how you’re going to integrate or action the realisation. This is where many of us - myself included - fall down. If you’re not going to get to the doing of it straight away - whether that’s sending an email, picking up the phone, or diving into the research you’ve been avoiding - get the idea written down, and mark time in your calendar for the follow up needed. Coach
, creator of the beloved Project You journals, is a big proponent of the calendar-commitments - and for good reason.
Ourselves as the expert
But sometimes, even when we’ve done the research, consulted with an expert, and tuned into ourselves to implement what we know is good, we can still get stuck in a loop of not believing that we know best. That we know ourselves, our bodies, our habits. We know what helps us and we know what hinders us.
Surely there is always an expert we can learn more from; who can tell us something new?
Case in point: I was recently at a dietitian appointment; the latest hospital trip in a long line of trying to address various unruly symptoms. I’ve done a lot of my own research in this area over the past seven years so was unsure what new info I might get, but went in hope, notebook at the ready.
I left the room 30 minutes after entering, having made eye contact with this health professional approximately twice, with an assurance I have a healthy BMI (which I personally think means little to nothing), and some print outs of a ten-year-old web page with advice on drinking water and eating oats. It was all a bit “florals for spring”.
I went in hoping to leave with expert advice about how I should eat - and therefore live - and came out feeling disappointed that I already knew 95% of what she told me - either because of previous research, or because I know my own body. (That other 5% was slightly more surprising advice to stop taking the £40-a-month gut supplement I’ve been religiously starting my day with for the last couple of years).
Why is it not enough to trust in our own expertise? Why do we think the ‘experts’ will always know more?
This shows up in other areas of my life too.
It’s rare I go for a walk without listening to a podcast. Or even potter around at home without listening to someone else’s monologue or conversation for company. As if my own thoughts are not enough. As if I cannot have ideas without being prompted by someone else’s. As if I dare not waste a minute of opportunity to soak up the words of someone I think knows better than I, instead of allowing more of those minutes for my own words to come to the surface.
I blame my brain for being too noisy to really tune into, somehow thinking that by adding to the noise it’ll encourage a more guided stream of thought. But really, I know it’s intentional quiet, and listening in, that helps bring clarity.
Calming a busy brain
Providing time and space for my thoughts to become something of a useful knowing is a practice I want to get better at, which perhaps means leaning into meditation and mindfulness - both of which I struggle with.
Sure I can embrace the smell and taste of my morning coffee; something I genuinely wake up looking forward to. But as the day then plays out, my mind is trying to engage in one meeting while thinking about what I need to prepare for the next, and also do I need to get anything in for dinner, and will I have time for a coffee between calls, and should I prioritise life admin or a jog after work???
My mind is full, but mindful I am not.
I am non-stop thinking, but I am not often listening.
Two years ago I read a book by Jon Kabat-Zinn and it give me a renewed sense of optimism about meditation’s accessibility and usefulness. I tried to practice what I was reading in real-time - but the beach setting of a Cretian holiday turned out to be an easier set up for this than my regular on-the-go life back in London.
Thoughts of this trip, and the clarity and openness I apparently associate with it, came back to me again very recently, during a Values-focused coaching session I had with the lovely
. As her encouraging questions sparked something in me that brought up warm memories of this trip with my mother, it turned out to unlock so much more too.After an introspective hour with Lisa, I had plenty more to journal on, thinking about how I show up in the various realms of my life, for myself and others, and how that’s all part of one me and how I am - or am not - living my values.
As she reiterated to me, the answers are all within.
I’ve also been thinking through some of these points in a related context, by following along with
’s re-read/listen of Brené Brown’s The Gifts of Imperfection. Full disclosure that I haven’t read the book, but I am listening to the accompanying short podcast series, and have taken the Wholehearted Inventory.In episode four, the chat turned to cultivating intuition and the need to learn to listen to ourselves more, and let go of relying on others to tell us how to think/feel/live. As I listened on a walk (obviously) it was a point that spoke to me directly - a stirring reminder to instill more quiet thinking time in my life.
Much like after reading Kabat-Zinn’s book, I also cultivated similar intentions of finding more quiet and opportunities for reflecting inwards, during a yoga retreat last year. I read, but I didn’t listen to a podcast the entire time. There was conversation. There was education on the chakras, and what they mean on the mat and off. But there was a quietness that allowed space for singular thoughts to breathe and grow in my brain, as I lounged by the pool watching amber dragonflies skim the surface of the water.
I retained intentional practices for a while on my return, but they soon fell by the wayside.
But while I struggle with tuning in to my thoughts alone, for example while on a walk or trying to sit quietly at home, I am a regular journaller. Although I don’t always make as much time for it as I’d like, sometimes I force myself to the page, even when I don’t think I have anything to say, or my mind feels as blank as it feels kerfuffled. Every time some kind of revelation will come out.
Every time.
Not a big one. Sometimes something so minute that many would think it’s not even worth knowing. But it feels like a puzzle piece slotting in that I didn’t know was missing.
Oh, that’s what that’s really about.
Ah, that’s why I probably reacted like that.
Ooh there’s an idea - I’m too tired now but I’ll follow up on this tomorrow.
An ongoing conversation with myself that’s worth the practice it takes.
If that practice feels hard for you, take
’s advice and just start with one word a day.I will always put down my journal feeling better than I did when I picked it up.
Onwards and inwards?
The other parting advice I left the dietitian’s office with? Tackle stress and anxiety. Oh, and sleep eight hours a night.
Uh, thanks hun, I’m trying.
Aren’t we all?
On one hand this felt like annoying guidance from someone I was hoping would teach me more about my body. On the other it was yet another reminder of things I already know. That stress and anxiety feed into, as well as are perpetuated by, the chronic conditions I was in part there to see her about. What goes on in our minds is so inherently connected to what goes on in our bodies.
I know what I need do it. I’m just not giving it enough focus.
As mentioned earlier, the integrating part is often not my strong point.
And so you see why I am here today, about to turn another year older, with an intention to drink more of my own medicine, while offering you a prescription for the practical, even if on the face of it it the notion of tuning into your inner knowing might seem a little woo.
When faced with a question, unclear options, or a sense of uncertainty, I will seek wisdom from others when I feel it is really needed, but will not live inside this quest to learn from elsewhere at the expense of digging into what I myself know.
As I further settle into this decade, I look forward to that knowing having the opportunity to grow.
And I hope for you, at whatever age, that trust in your inner knowing continues to grow too.
Read more about how I celebrated last year, with a birthday in the Balkans…
If you enjoyed reading (or listening!) and would like to show some support without a paid subscription - or treat me to a birthday cappuccino! - a Ko-fi coffee is always appreciated.☕
Loved the listen! As someone constantly dithering on decisions I appreciate all the wisdom that helps other people to do it 🙌🏼 happy birthday 🎂
I loved this Lauren. It was just what I needed to read today. And thank you for the lovely words. Hope you had a wonderful Birthday.