BEHIND THE ART: MY SOUL KNOWS BEST.

I painted the words My Soul Knows Best on a canvas back in September. These words had kept swirling around in my head. I don’t remember planning to paint them or sitting down with an idea or a concept in mind. It was just some words I painted to get them out of my head and onto something physical, like a short phrase jotted down on paper, only bigger.

At the time, I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t meant to be a statement or a belief system or a guiding principle. It was another piece created in the studio and another moment of expression from my inner world documented. But the phrase really stuck with me. I placed the 30 x 40 black and white bold worded canvas on a dresser opposite my bed. It’s the last thing I see before I go to sleep at night and one of the first things I see in the early morning. It’s ended up being the very reminder I need.

Lately, it feels especially relevant. We live in a world saturated with advice. Don’t we? You don’t need to go any further than your social media feed to see it. Everyone has an opinion, a method, a truth, a framework, a program, some snake oil, a five step plan, some way they are going to help you become a better version of yourself. You, but only better. Or maybe not really you at all. Maybe a version shaped by whatever is being sold that day. There is no shortage of voices telling you what to do, how to heal, how to grow, how to live and what their brand of success looks like.

And have you ever noticed this doesn’t just happen online? How much unsolicited advice we encounter in everyday life too? People freely offering suggestions, solutions and opinions we never asked for. Sometimes well meaning, sometimes not, but almost always assumed. I usually just listen, nod politely and think to myself, why are you telling me this?, no thank you. I’ve found myself wondering why people do this at all. I have a few theories, but mostly I just know it often feels more about them than about me.

After a while, all of that external input starts to seep in. Most of us aren’t even consciously aware it’s happening. Somewhere along the way, it begins to feel like if you’re not constantly upgrading yourself or doing things the way other people think you should, you’re somehow falling behind. It’s such a lie. And I notice how easily I still fall into that pattern, scanning outward for guidance, reassurance and confirmation instead of pausing long enough to listen inward.

There’s something deeply human about that. Wanting to get out of the discomfort of not knowing by having someone tell us what’s right for us. Wanting to solve a problem and move on quickly. Wanting to feel certain. Wanting someone else to map the way forward when things feel confusing, vulnerable, uncomfortable or unresolved. I’ve done that more times than I can count. Outsourced my knowing. Deferred my instincts. Ignored the signals in my body and my heart because someone else sounded more confident, more convincing or like they knew better.

But over time, I’ve started to recognize a different kind of knowing. One that doesn’t always come with clarity or logic or even words. It shows up as a feeling first. A subtle sense of yes or no. A tightening in my chest or a softening in my belly. A low grade discomfort that lingers when something no longer fits, even if on paper it still looks good. It’s usually not dramatic and sometimes easy to miss. And maybe that’s why it took me so long to notice and take it seriously.

Learning to trust that part of myself has been slow and bumpy. It’s an imperfect, ongoing practice. There was no big ah ha moment where everything suddenly clicked into place. It’s been more like a long series of small decisions where I either listened or overrode, paid attention or distracted myself, followed the nudge or talked myself out of it. Or listened to someone who has absolutely no clue what is right for me, just as I have zero clue what is right for them. Gradually, I started to notice the difference in my body and in my life. The choices that came from that inner place felt calmer, even when they were hard. The ones that didn’t came with a low level tension that lingered, like something was slightly off, even if I couldn’t explain why.

I don’t think my soul knows best in any perfect or mystical way. I still second guess myself constantly. I still change my mind, like a lot. I still get lost and often have no clue what I’m doing. But I am becoming more interested in my inner voice than in all the external noise competing for my attention. More curious about what happens when I slow down enough to hear what’s already there instead of rushing to fill the space with someone else’s certainty, truth, or opinion.

And all this to say, this doesn’t mean I don’t value supportive relationships, therapy or honest conversations with nonjudgmental people who listen well without projection. It’s actually quite the opposite. A really good therapist is radically accepting and wants you to learn how to trust yourself, not hand your authority over to someone else. If you happen to end up sitting opposite of me as a client, that’s what I will try to offer you. For me, it’s not about rejecting support. It’s more about no longer outsourcing my knowing. It’s about remembering that even in the presence of wise guidance, I am still the one living inside my body and my life. I am my own expert, just as you are yours.

And I don’t experience that inner voice as something that comes only from me. It feels connected to something bigger and greater, something outside and beyond my own thinking mind. Call it God, the universe, the divine, higher self, intuition or spirit. Whatever language works for you. I just know it doesn’t feel ego based or fear based. It feels steady, expansive and deeply loving. Less like a thought I came up with and more like something I recognize when I finally get quiet long enough to hear it.

Maybe it’s less about having answers and more about building a relationship with that part of myself. Learning how to listen and wait. Learning how to tell the difference between fear and intuition, between impulse and my truth, between what I want to believe and what actually feels real. Following the breadcrumbs of life.

And I really do believe we’re all going to get where we need to go and learn what we’re meant to learn, in our own time, when we’re ready. That’s where the trust part comes in.

These days, showing up in this way feels like success to me. Not getting it right or having it all figured out. Definitely not optimizing the shit out of my life. Just having the discernment to connect to what feels true and aligned, even when it’s subtle, even when it’s inconvenient, even when it doesn’t come with a clear explanation or direction. It asks for a lot of faith, and I’m still working on that.

And maybe that’s all the phrase, My Soul Knows Best, ever really meant. Not that my soul is all knowing or always right, but that it’s worth listening to and trusting. That my own inner knowing, wisdom and path matter.

I think your soul knows what’s best for you too. What is your soul telling you?

xx,
Michel