The Absurd Art of Listening to Your Gut While Ignoring Your Brain

Because sometimes the quietest voice is the one that knows the way.

“Because sometimes, the most courageous thing we can do is follow the quiet voice—even when everything else is telling us not to.”

Some mornings, you wake up with a message that feels like it came from somewhere deeper. This morning, for me, it was a song lyric stuck on repeat:

"Hush hush, a little louder every time" followed by "F**king contradictions."*

I recognized the song, but I couldn’t help wondering why those particular lyrics were playing so loudly in my mind. It felt less like coincidence and more like a nudge—an invitation to reflect on the contradictions that live beneath the surface of everyday life, especially the ones within ourselves.

We move through life thinking we know what we want—until something shifts. A job we’ve invested in disappears. A relationship ends. A long-held plan falls apart. These moments can feel like failure, like the rug has been pulled out from under us. But more often than not, they’re moments of redirection. The universe, in its quiet wisdom, helping us realign with something better suited for where we’re meant to go.

Over time, I’ve learned to tune into that subtle guidance system—intuition. It rarely shouts. It nudges. And when I listen, things begin to unfold in a way I never could have predicted. Like any muscle, intuition strengthens the more you use it. These days, it often tests me with choices that seem completely irrational at first glance. Like writing a resignation letter with no backup plan in sight.

As soon as that inner knowing arises, my ego predictably pipes up:

“You can’t do that. You need stability. Be realistic.”

The voice of fear is loud and convincing. But when I’ve quieted it long enough to act from that deeper place of knowing—even in the absence of a safety net—I’ve always gained clarity, healing, or a new sense of direction.

I remember one day clearly. I felt the urge to resign. My body wasn’t anxious, just unmistakably done. It was that familiar, undeniable energy we all know—the one that shows up when your boundary has been crossed one too many times. The kind that builds quietly at first, until you catch yourself rehearsing conversations in your head, imagining how you'll finally speak your truth. You stew for a while, and then it hits: you couldn't hold the words in if you tried.

That was me that morning. I wasn’t rehearsing lines, but I felt a voice inside coaching me:

You deserve better. Your peace is worth more than this paycheck. Your spirit is not meant to shrink here.

Like a pressure cooker nearing its limit, my body was generating energy that had nowhere to go until it was released. I walked into work carrying a letter and a deep sense of resolve.

When I spoke with my boss, something shifted. I was heard. I presented the resignation letter, ready to follow through—but after an open, honest conversation, my boss asked if I wanted to give it some more time. I chose to stay. From that point forward, I felt more seen, and my work began to feel more appreciated. It didn’t fix everything, but it was a meaningful shift—a leap forward that wouldn’t have happened without first honoring what I knew deep down.

Weeks later, the knowing returned. Another inner prompt to speak up. This time, I trusted it fully. I told my boss I’d be moving on in a few months, even though I had no idea what was next. And almost immediately, something unlocked.

A new idea—one that lit me up and aligned perfectly with my passion—landed out of nowhere. It was as if making the decision created the space for something greater to step in.

There were no guarantees. No job offer. No steady paycheck.

But there was a giddy sense of certainty. My heart knew. This was right. And somehow, that was enough.

Here’s the truth: our bodies often know what’s right long before our minds catch up.

That’s because our bodies are always paying attention—even when we aren’t. They log everything we experience, especially the subtle things we dismiss.

• The disappointment when someone you care about walks in and doesn’t acknowledge you.

• The spark of joy watching a romantic gesture from across the street.

• The frustration of sitting in traffic.

• The quiet letdown when your friends choose a restaurant you don’t love.

Alone, these moments feel insignificant. But over time, they add up.

Your body records thousands of emotional responses every day. It knows what uplifts you. It knows what drains you. And it uses that map to guide you toward greater alignment.

Your higher self has been cataloguing this data since the moment you arrived here.

If you want to test it, try this: Look in the mirror and say, “Show me how well you know me. Give me the perfect sign that I’ll know is meant for me.”

Then, let go. Don’t search—just allow. You’ll be surprised how clearly the message arrives.

The ego clings tightly not because it’s broken or out to sabotage us, but because it simply cannot comprehend what it has not yet experienced. It’s trying to protect us, to keep us safe within the bounds of what it knows.

When we begin to receive intuitive nudges that suggest stepping into the unknown, the ego resists—not out of malice, but out of fear. It wants certainty. It wants proof. And when it doesn’t have those things, it pulls back, gripping harder.

But over time, as we continue to listen to our inner knowing and witness how those intuitive choices bring clarity and alignment, the ego—along with all its carefully constructed life plans—starts to loosen its grip. Not because we’ve forced it to, but because it begins to trust the process too. It starts to see that the unknown isn’t always dangerous—that sometimes, it’s exactly where the most beautiful unfolding happens.

Your soul—your inner knowing—is working from a much broader blueprint. One built on years of energetic responses and emotional truths. It isn’t judging your hesitation. It’s just patiently guiding you toward what it already knows is meant for you.

This is the contradiction: We crave freedom but cling to control. We seek truth but ignore the quiet signals that lead us there. We pretend we’re confused, but somewhere inside, we always know.

The more we practice listening, the more we learn to trust. And when we trust, we stop waiting for breakdowns to force our growth.

We begin moving forward willingly, eyes open, even when the full picture isn’t clear yet.

Because sometimes, the most courageous thing we can do is follow the quiet voice. Even when everything else is telling us not to.