You Can't Think Your Way Here
Most of us have been taught that if we only think hard enough, analyze every piece of data enough, or acquire enough information, we'll eventually arrive at the answer we’re seeking.
And sometimes that's true. There are many practical problems that can and need to be solved this way. But there are other concerns that no amount of thinking will get us where we want to go. We keep gnawing at the same questions, considering the same options, and end up with the same conclusions. But often, when we've just stopped trying so hard, something shifts.
Out of the blue, when our minds are quiet, something happens and we see something about our circumstances we hadn’t seen before. It's a very different kind of seeing.
That difference has always captivated me. For all of us, that kind of seeing pops into our awareness from who knows where.
When I talk with people who are uncomfortable with something unresolved in their lives, they think what they’re after is more clarity, more confidence, or help making an important decision. I get it: that’s how we’ve all been taught to approach our problems.
But I don’t think that’s what people are really searching for. I’d describe it as a longing for a shift in perception. Once we see an idea or have a realization that's entirely new, that’s when clarity shows up. It’s not because we’ve spent more time thinking. It’s that we're no longer looking at our concern through the same lens we’ve always used.
I've seen this happen in many different ways. Sometimes this shift in perception happens when someone is using their hands to make something. Sometimes it happens in conversation in the space between words. Sometimes it appears in the quiet that follows a question that’s been posed. And sometimes, as we’ve all experienced, it happens in a moment where we feel a sense of awe.
It’s clear that the activity itself isn't what matters. What matters is that, for a moment, our habitual patterns of thought temporarily are shut off and something entirely new has room to emerge.
This is one of the reasons why I find the process of creativity so rewarding. It’s not because I’m attempting to create a masterpiece or a book that becomes a best seller, or solving some challenging life problem. I think being creative—asking what else is possible— is one way we can enter into a different relationship with our lives. Our certainty about what should be happening is put aside long enough for us to notice what’s been there all along but was hidden beneath our various assumptions, expectations, and conclusions.
This is the same thing that happens in moments of awe.
We could be standing beneath a star-filled sky, or watching the flash of a hummingbird hovering in front of us. That’s because there’s a moment outside of linear time when our usual mental noise just stops. For that instant, we stop relating to life through our ideas about it and begin experiencing it directly. We feel as though we've stepped into a world that’s much larger than ourselves.
That's why these moments matter so much to me. They show us that reality is always so much richer than our attempts to explain it. They suggest that what we've been calling "our problem" may never have been the problem at all, but simply the way we were seeing it.
After being blessed with these experiences myself as well as watching my clients have a similar experience, I’ve seen how what we all really benefit from is not finding better answers but discovering ways of perceiving life that thinking alone cannot reach.
Analysis and logic are necessary in many instances, but they have their limits when it comes to living fully and deeply. Beyond those limits lies a different kind of knowing that arrives unexpectedly, like watching fireworks without sound or seeing the flash of a hummingbird on a flower. This kind of epiphany isn’t something we can manufacture or demand. We can only make ourselves available.
That’s why I trust creativity, wonder, and those unexpected moments that reveal something that’s been obscured. Those moments don't just help us solve our problems. They reveal that we’re living in a reality that is far, far more alive, connected, and mysterious than our thinking can ever fully describe.
When we're lucky enough to catch a wider glimpse of reality and the possibilities it holds, we don't just get new ideas. We experience ourselves, our concerns, and the world differently because we begin to notice connections and possibilities that were there all along but hidden from view.
It’s not just a different relationship with creativity or with our problems. It's a different relationship with reality itself. And once we've glimpsed that, it's difficult to believe that our old way of seeing could ever be the whole story.
And sometimes that's true. There are many practical problems that can and need to be solved this way. But there are other concerns that no amount of thinking will get us where we want to go. We keep gnawing at the same questions, considering the same options, and end up with the same conclusions. But often, when we've just stopped trying so hard, something shifts.
Out of the blue, when our minds are quiet, something happens and we see something about our circumstances we hadn’t seen before. It's a very different kind of seeing.
That difference has always captivated me. For all of us, that kind of seeing pops into our awareness from who knows where.
When I talk with people who are uncomfortable with something unresolved in their lives, they think what they’re after is more clarity, more confidence, or help making an important decision. I get it: that’s how we’ve all been taught to approach our problems.
But I don’t think that’s what people are really searching for. I’d describe it as a longing for a shift in perception. Once we see an idea or have a realization that's entirely new, that’s when clarity shows up. It’s not because we’ve spent more time thinking. It’s that we're no longer looking at our concern through the same lens we’ve always used.
I've seen this happen in many different ways. Sometimes this shift in perception happens when someone is using their hands to make something. Sometimes it happens in conversation in the space between words. Sometimes it appears in the quiet that follows a question that’s been posed. And sometimes, as we’ve all experienced, it happens in a moment where we feel a sense of awe.
It’s clear that the activity itself isn't what matters. What matters is that, for a moment, our habitual patterns of thought temporarily are shut off and something entirely new has room to emerge.
This is one of the reasons why I find the process of creativity so rewarding. It’s not because I’m attempting to create a masterpiece or a book that becomes a best seller, or solving some challenging life problem. I think being creative—asking what else is possible— is one way we can enter into a different relationship with our lives. Our certainty about what should be happening is put aside long enough for us to notice what’s been there all along but was hidden beneath our various assumptions, expectations, and conclusions.
This is the same thing that happens in moments of awe.
We could be standing beneath a star-filled sky, or watching the flash of a hummingbird hovering in front of us. That’s because there’s a moment outside of linear time when our usual mental noise just stops. For that instant, we stop relating to life through our ideas about it and begin experiencing it directly. We feel as though we've stepped into a world that’s much larger than ourselves.
That's why these moments matter so much to me. They show us that reality is always so much richer than our attempts to explain it. They suggest that what we've been calling "our problem" may never have been the problem at all, but simply the way we were seeing it.
After being blessed with these experiences myself as well as watching my clients have a similar experience, I’ve seen how what we all really benefit from is not finding better answers but discovering ways of perceiving life that thinking alone cannot reach.
Analysis and logic are necessary in many instances, but they have their limits when it comes to living fully and deeply. Beyond those limits lies a different kind of knowing that arrives unexpectedly, like watching fireworks without sound or seeing the flash of a hummingbird on a flower. This kind of epiphany isn’t something we can manufacture or demand. We can only make ourselves available.
That’s why I trust creativity, wonder, and those unexpected moments that reveal something that’s been obscured. Those moments don't just help us solve our problems. They reveal that we’re living in a reality that is far, far more alive, connected, and mysterious than our thinking can ever fully describe.
When we're lucky enough to catch a wider glimpse of reality and the possibilities it holds, we don't just get new ideas. We experience ourselves, our concerns, and the world differently because we begin to notice connections and possibilities that were there all along but hidden from view.
It’s not just a different relationship with creativity or with our problems. It's a different relationship with reality itself. And once we've glimpsed that, it's difficult to believe that our old way of seeing could ever be the whole story.