Tag: wisdom
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Making Big Decisions: What Would Your Higher Self Do?
“Sometimes the bad things that happen in our lives put us on the path to the best things that will ever happen to us.” ~Paul Millsap
The personal growth journey is easy when everything is going to plan. But when you’re presented with a difficult situation, that’s when the real test begins.
In 2018, I embarked on a nomadic journey to do some soul-searching. I faced my fair share of challenges during this trip, but for the most part, life was good.
I led a good life and coached people to do the same. But then I was given a reality check.
Suddenly, I was back in Australia living with my mum. I had no money, no car, no job, and it felt like my life had come crashing down.
This is where the true test began, as I was forced to confront a fear I had dedicated my life to avoiding: the fear of regressing.
Revisiting Home: Unresolved Tensions and Turmoil
After five years on the road, it was great seeing my family and old friends again. But once the initial romanticism of being back home wore off, that joy was short-lived.
That’s when I began reverting into old patterns.
I picked up a job working in a restaurant and felt more out of place than ever. My self-worth took a heavy beating, and all these dense feelings from my childhood began to resurface.
But the icing on the cake was my relationship with my mother. We had some pretty deep issues that were never resolved. Those issues never had to be addressed, but now we could no longer avoid them.
Returning into this situation as a grown man was not ideal for either of us. There was an endless loop of turmoil that neither of us wanted, but neither of us could break.
I felt like I was constantly under attack and that she treated me like a child who had to live under a strict set of rules; otherwise, all hell would break loose.
She felt like her space was being intruded. In her eyes, I didn’t respect how she wanted to live and took advantage of her hospitality.
And around in circles we went, unable to see eye-to-eye, getting triggered by one another over stupid things.
No matter how much wisdom I had gained, nor how much healing I had done, this seemed like an uphill battle that I couldn’t overcome.
Separating Egoic Decisions from Higher Perspectives
After a particularly painful argument, I had a moment of clarity.
I saw myself quitting my job, packing my bags, and catching the next flight out of the country. I saw my mother resenting herself for pushing me away.
For a moment, my ego rejoiced.
“I sure showed her! Now she will finally see the errors of her way and the consequences they have! And I’ll be free, just the way I like.”
But then there was regret.
A higher part of me kicked in.
“This isn’t a solution. You’re just escaping again and hurting everyone in the process, including yourself. Nothing has been healed. This is your chance to repair this relationship. Don’t take the coward’s way out.”
It’s easy to run away. Believe me, I’ve crafted an entire life around it.
But the higher self weeps when the ego succeeds, and I recognized that this was an ego-driven decision: to escape a painful situation rather than heal the root cause.
As if I was catapulted out of my ego, suddenly I felt compassion rather than pain. A part of me that genuinely wanted to heal this wound for both of us shined through.
Because I was now in my heart space, the energy changed. I saw that my mother had given me a place to stay and a bed to sleep in. I was overcome with gratitude and compassion, and I saw the situation for what it is.
When you’re at a crossroads, ask yourself:
What is the path of the egoic self, and what is the path of the higher self?
The path of the higher self is always the route to take, and that’s the one that will provide genuine joy rather than momentary satisfaction.
Identifying Your Higher Self
Imagine your higher self as the best possible version of yourself: the beacon of light that you strive to become.
When I visualize my higher self, I see a healed man who only wants the best for everyone. He is completely in his heart space, and he doesn’t act from a place of ego.
He wouldn’t feel victimized. He wouldn’t argue back, knowing that ill-fitted behavior is a manifestation of a wound. Therefore, he would only demonstrate compassion because he genuinely feels it.
This version of myself knows that there is no better joy than feelings of compassion, gratitude, and love. So he’s the embodiment of these emotions, regardless of what the situation entails.
My higher self sees the situation from the higher perspective and responds to that.
It helps to visualize your higher self when you’re at a crossroads.
Try to understand what they are thinking.
How do they see the situation?
What do they feel?
When you’ve created this vivid image, don’t just model after them. Think like them, see like them, feel like them, embody them.
Modeling After Someone You Respect
If you’re struggling to see your higher self in these situations, try modeling after someone that you highly respect.
When I was living in Ecuador, I worked closely with an Ayahuasca Shaman for half a year and saw this man as a mentor of sorts.
To me, he’s a symbol of wisdom, compassion, and understanding.
During some of my most challenging moments, I would ask myself what he would do. Would he argue back when he feels he is being attacked? Would he drag his feet and play the victim?
Somehow, I couldn’t see it.
I imagine that if he was in my situation, he would milk every moment of being back home. He would work on the wounds with his mother and cherish their time together, knowing that it’s limited.
When you’re not sure what your higher self would do in any given situation, imagine a role model in your situation, and take after them.
Can’t think of someone you would want to model after? What about influential figures? Historic figures? Religious icons?
Visualize this person in your shoes and press play.
Now, do the same thing.
Separating Intuition from Impulse for Higher Decisions
Most of the time, we instinctively know what decision is the right one. But our egos coerce us into taking a course of action that really isn’t in anyone’s best interest.
One thing I’ve learned is that your intuition won’t lead you astray. But first you need to separate intuition from impulse.
Impulse is an emotion-based, momentary decision. Your intuition is a deeper wisdom that shines through when you tap into your higher self.
You know what to do; you just need to trust in it.
Either you don’t want to accept the course of action because it’s difficult, or you haven’t really listened.
Learn to lean on the wisdom of your heart, not your mind.
What makes your heart feel heavy when you think about it? Avoid that course of action.
What makes your heart feel light when you think about it? Follow that course of action.
Always follow what makes your heart feel lighter, because it knows better than your mind.
View the Situation from a Higher Perspective
It was easy to feel like I was doing well when I could avoid my family wounds. I never had to confront those wounds when I was living overseas, so I was under the impression that they were healed.
Sure, things were fine on the surface level, but that doesn’t mean the deeper underlying issues weren’t still there.
Without moving back to Australia and getting into a situation where I had to confront those wounds, I would have never created the incentive to heal them.
Looking back, I’m thankful that the universe gave me this opportunity, because in the five months I’ve been back, a whole lot of progress has been made for a healthier, happier relationship with my mother.
Instead of getting triggered, I’ve learned to look at the wound.
Rather than being caught in my ego, I’ve learned to look at the situation through her perspective.
I am happy to be able to look back at this time in Australia and smile, knowing that I’m now running toward my dreams, and not away from my wounds.
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Try This Fun Little Phrase to Immediately Boost Your Joy
“Joy is the simplest form of gratitude.” ~Karl Barth
I had no way of knowing when I went to visit my brother’s family that summer in 2019 that my three-year-old niece would say seven words that would forever change my relationship with joy.
It was July and predictably steamy in Georgia where his family lives. I was visiting to meet my newborn nephew, and the stifling heat kept us all inside for most of my stay.
The second morning after I arrived, I was spending time with my younger niece and keeping her entertained. My older niece was at a playdate, my sister-in-law was with the baby, and my brother was running an errand, so she and I had some bonding time to ourselves.
We sat in the living room playing her new favorite make-believe game, Girl’s Club. The game of Girl’s Club was simple: speaking out loud, describe Girl’s Club, the idyllic imaginary place where the girls who were in could come hang out, and it was now my turn.
“Hmmmm, let’s see.” I started. “Well, there’s a fountain outside with mermaids swimming in it.”
My niece’s round blue eyes became enormous. “I knew it would be like this!” she said. I laughed; it was so cute, and her glee was contagious.
I continued my turn. “And inside, there is a ceiling painted to look like a rainbow.”
Again, a deep inhalation and, “I knew it would be like this!” This time she clapped her hands.
I couldn’t stop smiling as I went on describing. Girl’s Club was clearly being channeled from my own inner four-year old, so my niece and I were on the same page.
“And there is an enormous golden chandelier…and pink velvet couches!”
My tiny three-year-old niece jumped up and down and flung her entire body onto the couch, rocking back and forth, unable to contain her excitement. “I KNEW it would be like this!”
It was the biggest exclamation yet. Our back and forth continued just like this, with me sharing more details, and my niece affirming that not only was this fabulous, but it was exactly what she expected—and now it was here.
I was struck by her response. Her joy was palpable, literally bursting from her small body in motion and energy. And she never got tired of exclaiming over and over, “I knew it would be like this!” I noticed several things about my niece on this particular morning:
1. She is aware of what she loves, of what feels fun and good to her.
2. She expects that things will be good and delightful to her. Of COURSE the couches are pink velvet, exactly like she imagined.
3. Her recognition that the goodness she anticipated and knew would be coming was now here and should be celebrated.
4. Her complete embodied joy.
When was the last time I had embodied joy like this? I couldn’t say for sure, but here was my niece, easily accessing it on a Thursday morning in the living room of her house simply by having a conversation about imaginary things.
I had a meditation practice and did yoga, and I was pretty good at tapping into calm. But I realized that calm is very different from joy, and while I often allowed myself this muted sense of peace, could I let myself really let go into the full-bodied exuberance of joy?
As adults, we can protect ourselves by expecting the worst. “I don’t want to get my hopes up,” or “If I think it’s going to turn out well that might mean something bad will happen,” or having the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop when things are really good. Having something good is vulnerable, because then we have something to lose.
Embodied joy is one of the gifts of childhood. We haven’t yet learned to be too cautious, to temper expectations, to feel the weight of responsibility creeping in to tense our shoulders. Of course, in some childhoods, responsibility or hardship comes early, with the loss of such exuberance a heartbreaking addition to whatever difficult circumstances have arrived.
Ideally in a happy, healthy childhood where you are cared for and your needs are met, all you have to do is receive. Receive the meals made for you with love, receive play time with a sibling or friend, receive the vivid magic of your imagination, receive the tuck-in and goodnight kiss from a parent. Receiving the goodness here in this moment was exactly what my niece was showing me.
Completely charmed, I shared the story with my brother and sister-in-law, and we laughed. I shared it again with my husband, with my parents, with friends. Each person I shared it with had the same reaction: laughter, genuine delight, and the recognition of an obvious catchphrase that could maximize the impact of a joyful moment immediately.
What happened next unfolded like clockwork: everyone who heard the story wanted to use the phrase too. At home on a Friday night with my husband making homemade pizza: “I knew it would be like this!”
At the beach with friends watching the sunset from the deck and laughing: “I knew it would be like this!”
Hugs between siblings reuniting after a long time apart: “I knew it would be like this!”
Sitting alone, snuggling on the couch with a blanket and some tea, the dog lying companionably next to me with her silly snore: “I knew it would be like this!”
The trick is to notice the moment in the first place and really receive it by saying the magic words. Saying the words feels like a way of savoring, of giving permission for the goodness of life to fully arrive. Using this phrase works wonders when alone, and when used with others, it becomes a celebration.
You can try it when you snag a parking spot in a crowded lot, when toasting a friend at happy hour, gazing up at the moon and stars, hearing your favorite song come on the radio.
Just remember, the first step is noticing that these moments are already present in small or big ways. Be curious about the little things already in your life that could be welcomed even more, establishing a more joyful and familiar relationship with goodness. Your happiness gets a boost when you consciously let it in, savor, and even celebrate.
Grant yourself permission to receive, to know that good things are for YOU and that they’re already here, to celebrate little moments of happiness and in doing so amplify the joy in your life. Using this phrase is so easy—even a child can do it. I knew it would be like this!
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8 Things to Remember When You’re at Your Lowest
“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in.” ~Haruki Murakami
Last year was both the hardest year of my life and the most transformative. My partner and I had started in vitro fertilization after years of infertility. The daily hormone injections and invasive procedures were tough, but when we saw two blue lines on the pregnancy test, we fell utterly in love with our growing baby.
Around the same time, my mother, a warm and practical person, had an unexplained manic episode that lasted for months. Unable to sleep, she became tormented by her own mind. On one occasion she went missing late at night. On another she destroyed treasured household objects. Far away from family, I was alone in helping to care for my elderly parents in crisis.
Not long after, I started to lose the baby. I bled for three weeks. A week later, I rushed to the emergency room late one night, seriously ill, to discover I was at risk of sepsis. The experience was harder than I could have imagined. It was as though I had lost the love of my life, but with no funeral or public acknowledgment.
Around this time, I fell ill with Covid and never quite recovered. The following months were a blur of insomnia, leg pain, racing heart, ringing ears, and pressure in my head, throat, and chest. My symptoms were worse at night, when my heart raced at the slightest noise and adrenaline surged through my body. Small activities, like doing the dishes, showering, or walking up a flight of stairs, wore me out. Even socializing became exhausting.
When I was at my lowest, my sister was also in crisis. Growing up, we had been inseparable. She was fiercely affectionate, funny, and brilliant but struggled with her mental health and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in her twenties. Last year, she experienced a prolonged psychotic episode that manifested as extreme rage. She wrote countless emails to the family saying she was going to kill herself and it was our fault. Then she disappeared completely.
Months later, when I was starting to recover from long Covid, I got pregnant and miscarried again. This time, the doctors said the embryo had likely implanted outside the uterus and could cause a rupture if it grew too big. For weeks I went for blood tests and internal scans nearly every other day. At night I lay awake in panic.
Since that time, my long Covid has worsened. I struggle to make it through each day while holding down a job. After multiple attempts to reconcile with my sister, I think about her every day, worried for her well-being and devastated for the loss of our relationship. But when I find myself swept away by despair, insights keep arriving like small gifts on my doorstep.
After a lifetime of people-pleasing and perfectionism, my hardships taught me to advocate unapologetically for my needs and live more in the moment. My grief gave birth to a profound sense of self-compassion. I saw for the first time that my intrinsic value as a human being was not dependent on accomplishing things or pleasing others.
Losing my health taught me to appreciate the gifts I do have: a partner who loved me through my darkest hours, caring family and friends, and a stable job and home. And perhaps most importantly, I learned to treasure my own sense of possibility.
I know these hardships are not unusual. Many people have experienced chronic illness, infertility, miscarriage, or family mental illness. I hope these reflections might offer some solace to others who are also suffering.
1. Your suffering is not your fault.
Your profound loss cannot be reframed or therapized away. All you can do is listen and love yourself when the pain hits like a wave, and know that the wave will pass over. Try not to blame yourself for these terrible feelings. They are a healthy response to real tragedies. There is nothing you could have done to prevent this, and you don’t need to improve.
2. There is no shame in being unwell.
Yes, you have been hurt, but you are not broken. You are whole and complete. You don’t need to work hard at healing—it will happen in its own time. You are allowed to ask for help. This is part of the journey of recovering autonomy. You will not feel powerless forever. Remember how much you have healed already and how strong you have become.
3. It’s okay to find sources of distraction.
You are allowed to feel happy—it does not mean you have forgotten what you lost. It is okay to prioritize yourself and tend to your smallest desires and needs. You have worked so hard to take care of others, prepare for the future, and do the right thing. If there is ever a time to let go of obligation, that time is now.
4. You do not have to be brave.
You are allowed to be weak and afraid, angry and resentful, or petty and indulgent. You are allowed to be whatever it is you are at this moment. It is enough to simply make it through the day, to feed yourself or ti ask for time off work (please ask for time off work!). It is okay to be contradictory and complicated and to embrace your shadow aspects.
5. There is nothing wrong with being alone.
Pretending to be okay in front of others is exhausting, but so is mustering up the courage to share your struggles. Some people may disappoint you. Most don’t know how to respond to suffering, but everyone has a gift they can offer. Some will distract you, others will hold your hand, or remind you that you are not alone. You can discover these gifts in your own time.
6. You don’t need to be rational, and you don’t need to have faith either.
But you can gently move in the direction of all sources of comfort, from a cup of hot chocolate or an afternoon nap to the intangible solace of dreams. You can imagine spirits caring for you in your time of need or loved ones holding you in their arms. Envision a trip to a beautiful place. Remain open to mysterious and everyday sources of joy.
7. You will discover gifts that you never knew existed.
Your ability to self-advocate can turn exhaustion and overwhelm into rest and relaxation. Your capacity for gratitude can remind you of all that is well within your body and your life. Your sense of humor can reveal absurdity in even the darkest moments. By tapping into these resources, you will be better prepared for hardship in the future.
8. Every end is a new beginning.
New hopes will emerge where old ones have ended. Lean into the kind of hope that is not attached to an outcome but that fosters excited anticipation. The script of your life is unwritten and filled with potential. The unknown can be scary, but it is also where magic and mystery dwell. Remain open to new ways of being and to the possibility of a beautiful future.
