To Thine Own Self Be True, No Matter What Others Think

• Awakened Living

“To thine own self be true,” wrote Shakespeare, and he would have made a fine life and business coach.  Because true career and life success come from astonishing independence—being present to your own innate rhythms and desires, rather than listening to others.

It sounds great on paper. But, if you’re like me, it means you have to go against the very thing that made you successful in the past. I was a poster child for the American education system. I learned how not to think for myself, so that I could do what I was supposed to do and score higher. I knew how to jump through hoops. I didn’t know how to choose the hoops.  

When I first walked out of my high-status legal career to reinvent my life, I was new to listening. You might be, too, even if you think you’re not. Because real listening is a path of throwing out the window what you think is lucrative, spiritual, appropriate, responsible, generous, and every other pre-packaged idea you have. It’s a path of following your own arriving wisdom and inspiration, not education. And inspiration doesn’t always arrive in a pretty package. Sometimes it’s a raw insistence—a mule braying for all it’s worth, making you pay attention to a direction or suggestion you do not want to hear. But paying attention to ourselves is the price of admission to a genuine life.

Years ago, my host in a large international city dragged me around for a whole day, while talking incessantly and constantly judging others. Finally, she insisted we visit a famous labyrinth. “It’s a walking meditation,” she told me. “Just follow the paths to the center and back out again. Go your own way and be with the experience.” But the experience I really wanted to be with was going back to my hotel room, ordering takeout, and watching TV.

There was a herd of seekers there to follow the mystical maze, and I looked for the fast lane. I wanted to do this spiritual thing, get it done, get my answer, and get out of here. “I don’t want to do this,” said a voice in the back of my mind. I heard it, like I heard so much of myself at the time, like a radio playing a song you don’t really listen to.

I carried on putting one leaden foot in front of me and then the next. I felt exhausted on every level. It takes a lot to ignore your truth. In that hushed hall, my mind spoke as loudly as an American in Europe. “I don’t want to do this,” I heard. “Of course you don’t want to do it,” said another voice, the mean voice within that always kept me doing what others thought I should. “You can’t commit like everybody else is. You’re bailing.” I trudged forward, not yet seeing the irony of walking in shame toward enlightenment.

Of course, what really kept me going was this: I was terrified that I’d miss something, that maybe I was “supposed” to be here, that maybe if I took just one more step, I’d have a revelation or divine intervention, or that a wizened monk or a fairy who looked like Lady Gaga would enter my consciousness with a message that would change my life. Besides, everyone else seemed blissful, no doubt realizing shocking inner truths.

“I don’t want to do this,” the voice insisted again. And for the first time, I thought about it rationally. Would I really hear inner wisdom if some part of me was hurting and begging me to leave? Was it inner wisdom to listen to this exhausted part of myself? Who said it was inner wisdom to ignore my pain? What if this voice screaming for freedom was my inner wisdom?

And just like that, my truth became clear.  

I wanted an experience of liberation and clarity. But I didn’t want to walk this labyrinth. I wanted to go back to my hotel and tuck myself into bed and rest.

Immediately, new negotiations began. “Well, you can’t just walk out. You have to stay in the lines,” my inner Follow-the-Rules-Girl said emphatically. Then I remembered the real rule of the labyrinth: Find my own way to the center. Who said my way couldn’t be to leave and take my center with me? Yes, it seemed like crying uncle, or abandoning a peace rally. It felt heretical, like spitting out the wafer at communion.

But self-love is heretical. Freedom requires bold choices.

I bolted. I walked out of the labyrinth, holding my own hand, and holding my own soul like a soft, wounded bird. I walked in the direction of comfort, self-care, mercy, and love.

I didn’t know it then, but I wasn’t walking away from Spirit; I was walking toward Spirit. I was listening to myself. I was honoring my own timing and capacities. When I arrived at my hotel, which seemed like the real shrine to me, I got into a hot bath, cried, and slipped into the velvet of inner peace. Apparently, I’d found my way to center.

I had to abandon what others thought was “spiritual” to listen to my Spirit.

You will, too. Listening to your inner voice requires honesty, integrity, and courage. There are no formulas. Many of my coaching clients trust their inner voice only when it suggests something like studying for an MBA or saving the whales—only “virtuous” things count. But I tell them and I’ll tell you, you do not know what is most productive on this path. You have no idea how much creative progress you can make when you listen to your unconditional genius, which isn’t hemmed in by society’s rules. Why would you attempt to create a life of unbounded freedom by listening to the advice of the bound one within you?

Of course, I’m not advising you to simply follow the part of you that always suggests ease. You and I both know that the voice of cruel self-limitation can sound kind and concerned. I’ve had a cunning voice telling me for years that I shouldn’t “strain” myself by writing, exercising, or doing any of the things that would take me across the bridge into a new world. Resistance can mimic compassion. 

So how do you discern which instincts to trust inside yourself? It’s not what an inner voice advises that matters. I look at the motivation behind the suggestion. For me, leaving that walking meditation wasn’t feeding my weakness. It was trusting my strength. The desire wasn’t coming from boredom or petulance. It was coming from self-respect and self-loyalty. No one action is always right. But this was the right choice for that specific moment. Guidance is exact, original, and unduplicated. There are no mechanical rules.  

Experiment and learn. Dare to respect your emerging truth. It may not look the way you wish. It might guide you to make “undesirable” or unpopular choices. You don’t get to decide what freedom, clarity, and success should look like. You will only know how sweet it feels.

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