When Thinking Isn’t Enough

There’s a strange thing that happens when we’re trying to make big decisions. We gather all the information. We list out the pros and cons. We weigh every possible outcome until the right choice should be obvious. We think through, go in circles, get perspectives, and feel a little tortured until we make the “right” choice.

But sometimes, even when the logic is solid, something inside us resists.

I’ve noticed it in my own life — moments where everything made sense, and still, I felt a kind of hesitation. A tightening in my chest. A heaviness in my body. A quiet “no” that didn’t fit into any of my careful arguments. A feeling I sensed, but didn’t make “sense.”

For a long time, I thought this was just fear: fear of change, fear of the unknown, fear of getting it wrong. So I tried to think harder. I tried to reason my way through it, to convince myself that if I just had better logic, the doubt would go away. There was knowledge and understanding I was missing. Searching for answers brought me the comfort of distraction and delusion of progress. Surely, the answer would come.

It didn’t.

What I eventually started to see was that there’s a difference between critical thinking and critical feeling. Critical thinking gives us frameworks, options, strategies. It tells us what could work. Critical feeling, on the other hand, is quieter and harder to explain. It’s the body’s response, the gut tightening or relaxing, the heart sinking or lifting, the energy moving toward something, or recoiling in a sense of rejection.

Jessica Dore calls this the wisdom that lives underneath the surface — the parts of us that know long before the mind catches up. Carl Jung said something similar: that real transformation doesn’t happen because we think harder, but because we finally listen to the parts of ourselves we’ve long ignored . And Brené Brown reminds us that true courage doesn’t come from certainty. It comes from the willingness to feel vulnerable, to stay open even when the path isn’t clear .

It’s easy to rationalize staying in the job that looks good on paper but drains the life out of you. It’s easy to make a list of why the relationship “should” work, even when your heart feels distant and small inside it. It’s easy to explain why you’re living the way you are — harder to admit that something essential feels missing.

Our minds can build beautiful structures.

But critical feeling tells us whether we actually want to live inside them.

Lately, I’ve been trying to ask different questions.

Not “What’s the smartest decision?”

But “Where do I feel the most alive?”

Not “What’s expected of me?”

But “What feels like a full-body yes?”

I don’t always find immediate answers. Sometimes all I find is a small shift — a loosening, a lightness, a subtle lean toward something new. Sometimes I trip over an answer while in complete surrender to not finding an answer. Life ensues despite pursuit.

And that’s enough.

Because real change rarely happens because we think our way into it. It happens because, somewhere deep inside, we feel different, and we know it’s time to move.

Reflection:

How do I feel when I am preparing for work, meeting up with my partner, or going to that event I’ve been wanting for? Not what do I think about it or how can I describe it. What do I feel? How has this changed?