Trust Yourself When the Path Forward Seems Unclear

×

Expand

I was nearing the end of eighth grade, and the nuns at my Catholic elementary school were twisting my mental arm pretty hard.

“You should continue your education at our Catholic high school,” was their relentless message. My homeroom teacher kept me after school frequently to “talk some sense” into me. During these sessions, my fence sitting was clear. I simply sat obediently, listened, nodding occasionally and promised I would decide soon.

When I asked my Irish Catholic mother and agnostic father what I should do, they made it clear the choice was mine. After all, my four older siblings all attended the public high school, the parochial version being a recent addition to our community. Writhing on the horns of what seemed, in my pubescent mind, a major dilemma, I sought the counsel of my elderly grandmother.

All of us experience decisive junctures in our lives where the path forward seems unclear. Sometimes, we have a cacophony of voices telling us what to do, most offering advice based on their own preferences; not always a useful reference point. After all, we are all different and, therefore, face unique conundrums. At such turning points, if we are fortunate, a voice emerges that seems, somehow, to know exactly what we need to hear.

As illustrated in the movie The Matrix, the protagonist (Neo) visits the Oracle, a wise elder who dispenses wisdom in pithy one liners and opaque metaphors. Later, when struggling to make sense of her cryptic advice, Neo’s mentor (Morpheus) reminds him that, “She told you exactly what you needed to hear.”

In her small living room, the ancient grandfather clock ticking away, that’s precisely what my grandmother told me; just what I needed to hear and nothing more. When I finished explaining my school choice dilemma and expressing my uncertainty and ambivalence, she paused, smiled warmly and said, “Trust your feelings.” That was it. No list comparing costs and benefits. No analytic discussion of pros and cons. No recap of previously proffered advice. Just, “Trust your feelings.”

So, I did. The next day, when my teacher held me after school yet again, sitting me down in a chair next to her desk, I cut her off before the usual admonitions began. “I’m going to the public high school,” I announced.

After a bit of stunned silence, she sat back, fixed her gaze on mine and asked me how I arrived at that decision. “I trusted my feelings,” I replied.

That sort of trusting was not highly respected back then, so she reiterated her guidance, reminding me of my youthful lack of experience, need for direction in life and allegiance to my faith. I listened respectfully, but when she finished, I simply said, “My mind is made up.”

Unrelenting, she called my mother that evening in an attempted end around. “It’s his decision,” Mom told her, and that put an end to the after-school guidance sessions, such as they were.

That was long ago, but I recall my grandmother’s simple yet potent counsel vividly. Fortunately, at several other decision points in my life, I was blessed with similarly prescient advice. These psychological waypoints still shine brightly in my consciousness. At times, when struggling with a decision, I beckon them back into my awareness. They are lighthouses in times of storm and shadow.

I suspect many of you can recall similar episodes, times when someone, somehow, knew precisely what you needed to hear at that moment and in that happenstance. In some instances, the wisdom dispensed by these “oracles” connects with something inside us that already knows what to do but simply needs validation. On other occasions, it plants an entirely new idea or perspective that illuminates a previously unseen way forward.

Either way, what the true oracles in our lives offer is not so much guidance or advice. Rather, they provide a kind of awakening, a way of recognizing one’s own truth.

Listen closely.

For more, visit philipchard.com.