The Knowing That Never Leaves

The countdown is on.

Soon, I'll be returning to one of my favorite places in the world—Maui.

This annual trip has become a meaningful rhythm in my life. And this year, perhaps more than others, I've been reminded of something I know deeply: life doesn't always follow the plan. Sometimes, we have to abandon the plan.

There have been curveballs and challenges. Moments when I've had to adjust, let go of what I thought something would look like, and trust that I would find my way through.

For a period of time, even this trip felt uncertain. I wasn't sure it was going to happen at all.

Maybe that's part of what life asks of us: to loosen our grip on the plan and listen instead.

Because life has its own movement. Its own intelligence.

It wants to flow.

And when I think about Maui, I remember something else I know:

I don't have to be in Maui to access this knowing. I don't have to be on a beach, a mountaintop, or anywhere particularly sacred.

It's always here.

It's in us.

We just have to listen.

There is a feeling I have in places where I am completely present and connected—a sense that I am part of something larger than myself, and that there is a deeper intelligence moving through all of life and through me.

Some people call it God, a higher power, the universe, or the quantum field; I often think of it as divine intelligence—the intelligence of life and the intelligence within us, which are ultimately one and the same.

The language doesn't matter as much as the experience.

Something deeper than the thinking mind is available to us.

Our inner knowing is always there.

What gets in the way is that we become very good at not listening.

We look outside ourselves for answers. We ask everyone what they think. We gather more information. We make more plans. We wait for certainty.

Meanwhile, there is often a quieter knowing underneath it all. Are we listening?

As someone who has spent decades studying the body, I know this in another language, too.

The body is constantly gathering information before the conscious mind has words for it. A change in breath. A tightening. A sense of ease. A subtle pull toward—or away from—something.

Our bodies are communicating all the time.

Learning to notice is part of learning to know ourselves.

This isn't about treating every sensation as a directive or abandoning reason. It's about remembering that thinking isn't the only way we receive information. So how do we practice listening?

We create space. A walk without our phones. A few quiet minutes. Movement. Music. A pause before asking someone else what they think. Ask yourself: What do I already know? And then, perhaps: What is my answer right now?

Sometimes it's yes. Sometimes it's no. And sometimes it's I don't know. And that's okay. If we give it enough space, the knowing will come.

You don't have to act on the answer. You don't have to be certain. Just notice.

Maui doesn't create this connection for me. It simply gives me the space to remember that it's there.

You don't need Maui, a mountaintop, an ashram, or anywhere in particular. The practice isn't finding the answer somewhere outside of ourselves.

It's remembering that the knowing is already there.

It is part of us.

It is us.

We just have to listen.

With love,

Jessica