The Lily Pond
Fragment #30
There feels an aire of superiority circling around Substack because of the increasing number of people offering unsubstantiated advice from the sidelines. When I feel like I’m drowning in details and complexity, I look for help from those who have already walked a similar path and are willing to walk it again without telling me where to stand.
Difference between advice and a framework
Advice seems to put any answers given outside a relationship. There is a lot of advice giving on here. Someone tells me what they think I should do and while it might seem helpful for a second, it undermines my ability to think critically and feel accomplished and in control of my own life. All too quickly I’m executing on their ideas, not my own. When things become more complex, the conviction to finish disappears because I never really owned the process in the first place. Advice giving also requires an understanding of life situations, values, tolerance for risk etc. - all things that are deeply personal and rarely revealed to a stranger.
Offering a framework that is structured using personal experience creates options from inside and gives others room to discover their own unique solutions. I don’t tell others what to decide. I can expose how your own thinking allows an appropriate decision to be made visible. It’s the difference between a friend saying “just leave” vs. a map that allows you to see what you actually value and what’s at stake.
Being told what to do keeps things stuck
Outsourced clarity rarely fares well under pressure. In complex situations, it’s human nature to look for a quick win yet when intensity inevitably ramps up, I want to be able to say to myself: “I know exactly why I’m doing this” because that conviction is what fuels me when I feel like packing it all in.
I rarely stay stuck because of a lack of options. It’s usually because of competing values or unacknowledged fears and these are only discovered through private, internal reflection. Being told what to do bypasses this crucial step in a rush toward a quick resolution so every time I go to someone else for an answer, I subtly reinforce a belief that I’m incapable of finding it myself.
“I don’t know what to do” sounds like a decision problem when really it’s a clarity issue. I describe it like a lily pond. I’m swamped by symptoms on the surface and can’t see the deeper issues below. Advice comes along and sprays the leaves using a toxic mixture of the giver’s values, experience, their own fears and bias. The symptoms wilt but somewhere inside, a misalignment is sensed because instinct knows it’s a borrowed view. I smile, nod along, yet remain stuck.
Meanwhile, a framework reveals the personal root structure and supports a clear flow.
Finding a way through complexity
Many say there is a way out, and I feel that is a misnomer. A way through feels more truthful. I have yet found my way out of a complex situation. Not entirely. I’m still here, living each day with memories and a residue of past experience, but there does come a moment when space opens up. The heaviness softens, the air feels crisper and the noise of life’s grind runs a little quieter in the background. All the frantic, mental cycling slows and the roots in the earth are seen for what they are. Here a sense of stability returns and the next step feels obvious.
When my youngest child left home was when I last felt stranded in the middle of a genuinely complex decision. All I could think was: Now what do I do? After decades of identifying as a mum I’d lost track of who I am. Finding ways through had the strange qualities of recognition and revelation. “Oh, so this is who I am?” It’s a mixture of comfort and surprise.
I’ve been a mother longer than I’ve been an independent woman so it’s been about learning what I genuinely think about things as an adult without putting the needs of others first. What do I actually want from life? I’m sure I’ll continue to have moments of hesitation but I’m no longer shuffling between multiple options. I get to prioritise myself for a change. It’s an odd feeling and at times almost too expansive, yet it does allow space to see clearly what feels most suitable and it’s exciting to be living on the edge of something new.
If you're standing in the middle of something complex right now, I'm curious:
Are you looking for a quick way out or are you sensing there might be a way through if only there was more structure and clarity?
