Is there really a right decision?
Have you noticed how often you spend more time than you need to trying to make sure you choose correctly before allowing yourself to take action? If you look at other people, you'll see it there, too.
It looks like this: We gather information. We make lists. We ask other people what they think. We imagine one future and then another. We try to anticipate consequences that haven’t happened yet.
Underneath all that thinking is the hope that somewhere there’s a right answer, and if we can just figure out what it is, everything will turn out the way it’s supposed to.
But how could we possibly know that ahead of time?
Really, all we’re ever doing is making decisions with the information we have at the time. Life continues life-ing. Our circumstances change. Other people make choices and sometimes those choices affect us. Something unexpected shows up and throws all our “right” decisions up in the air. What seemed like the obvious decision six months ago can look entirely different—or wrong—today.
There’s also the possibility that the choice we thought was a mistake leads us to opportunities we couldn’t have imagined.
I regularly see this when I’m making something. In fact, I’ve pretty much given up on insisting I know what it should become. Giving that up allows whatever I'm creating to evolve without imposing force on it.
Isn't our desire to make the right decision simply a desire for certainty? We want assurance that if we choose correctly, we’ll avoid regret, disappointment, inconvenience, loss, or having to change course later.
But life doesn’t offer that kind of guarantee.
Maybe the most useful question we can ask ourselves is this: “Given what I know right now, what makes sense to do next?”
It doesn’t ask me to predict the future. It doesn’t require me to know where my choice will lead. It only asks me to pay attention to what’s here right now, in front of me: what I know, what I sense, what my circumstances are showing me, what seems alive, and what the next step might be.
That way I’m ready for whatever happens next.
When we respond to what’s actually in front of us, we begin to trust something other than certainty: our capacity to notice, respond, adjust, and change course when we need to.
We need that trust more than any assurance we’ve made the right decision.
What might change if you didn’t have to know that your next decision was the "right" one?
It looks like this: We gather information. We make lists. We ask other people what they think. We imagine one future and then another. We try to anticipate consequences that haven’t happened yet.
Underneath all that thinking is the hope that somewhere there’s a right answer, and if we can just figure out what it is, everything will turn out the way it’s supposed to.
But how could we possibly know that ahead of time?
Really, all we’re ever doing is making decisions with the information we have at the time. Life continues life-ing. Our circumstances change. Other people make choices and sometimes those choices affect us. Something unexpected shows up and throws all our “right” decisions up in the air. What seemed like the obvious decision six months ago can look entirely different—or wrong—today.
There’s also the possibility that the choice we thought was a mistake leads us to opportunities we couldn’t have imagined.
I regularly see this when I’m making something. In fact, I’ve pretty much given up on insisting I know what it should become. Giving that up allows whatever I'm creating to evolve without imposing force on it.
Isn't our desire to make the right decision simply a desire for certainty? We want assurance that if we choose correctly, we’ll avoid regret, disappointment, inconvenience, loss, or having to change course later.
But life doesn’t offer that kind of guarantee.
Maybe the most useful question we can ask ourselves is this: “Given what I know right now, what makes sense to do next?”
It doesn’t ask me to predict the future. It doesn’t require me to know where my choice will lead. It only asks me to pay attention to what’s here right now, in front of me: what I know, what I sense, what my circumstances are showing me, what seems alive, and what the next step might be.
That way I’m ready for whatever happens next.
When we respond to what’s actually in front of us, we begin to trust something other than certainty: our capacity to notice, respond, adjust, and change course when we need to.
We need that trust more than any assurance we’ve made the right decision.
What might change if you didn’t have to know that your next decision was the "right" one?