The Answer is Within
Insane
I stopped counting two decades ago the number of times I was told I was insane. “You’re insane to go to Singapore to finish your master’s” (my classmates in France). “You’re insane to learn Chinese while finishing your Ph.D. in science” (my Ph.D. advisor). “You’re insane to go study Chinese in Shanghai and hope to find a job” (my fellow Ph.D. students). “You’re insane to accept a job on a local salary with GE in Shanghai’’ (friends). “You’re insane to drop the business you were launching to take care of your mental health” (my family).
I’ve been working on a new startup for the past year, full-time. Recently, I’ve felt a longing to write and coach again. I can sense the same comments coming: “You’re insane to allocate some time on non-core business activities when the business is not even off the ground yet.”
Longing
I noticed this longing for the first time when I was finishing my master’s in Engineering in France. We could spend our last year on an exchange program overseas. None of the options appealed to me. Until one day, when the university director announced a new exchange program with the National University of Singapore. “Who wants to go?” he asked. I saw my right arm lift itself to volunteer. I didn’t rationally choose to go. I knew nothing about the university. It was as if a force within me had taken the decision. Six months later, I landed in Singapore with a full scholarship.
The Answer is Within
Six years later, Ph.D. and postdoc completed, I debated between going to California and working for a biotech company or discovering “the real Asia” and working in China. There was little research happening in Shanghai at the time, with a low probability of finding a research job. I drew lists of pros and cons that got me nowhere.
One day, worried, I called my friend Gerry.
“What should I do?” I asked her.
“How would I know what’s best for you?” Gerry said, barely containing her frustration.
“You’re the only one who can figure out what’s in you and what you want,” she added.
I sat on my bed, stunned. The bluntness of her words cleared my mind. In the silence came the answer: I wanted to go to China. It wasn’t a thought. It was a knowing from deep within. I couldn’t explain why. I knew this was what I needed to do.
Losing Touch and Drifting
Ten years ago, I was finishing my MBA and launching a business when a close relative suffered an accident that sent him to the ER in a coma. The psychotherapy I started a year earlier to deal with childhood traumas had taken a toll on my self-confidence, and I felt fragile. To cope with the shock of the accident, I reverted to my childhood mechanisms of burying the pain and toughening up without realizing that I was losing touch with my body, my heart, and this voice within that had guided me. I held the pain buried for one year by investing my energy in the business until I burned out.
I started doubting myself and asking for opinions from people more than was necessary, and following recommendations to take on jobs that looked like a fit but didn’t make me happy.
Reassessing
Last year I launched Akesa Health. I brought on advisors but noticed that I was spending a lot of time updating people and asking for advice, which slowed down the business. Last month, I went on a long walk in the woods to think this through. It was then that I realized that before the burnout, I’d trusted this inner voice and that all these critical decisions where I’d been told I was insane turned out to be significant in my life. They did not always lead to the easiest situations, but they led to a lot of growth and learning.
I looked at the advisors I’d selected because I value their expertise and insight and advisors who’d been suggested to me. The first ones had brought a lot of value to the business. The later ones less so. I decided to realign with what I felt was right and let go of some people. It was hard but the right thing to do. The team is smaller but much more agile.
Tuning In
People ask me what intuition is and how to know which path to follow. I believe intuition is a knowing that is deeper than the brain’s chatter. Being adventurous and a risk-taker, I’ve learned to be cautious about what I sense and not follow what may turn out to be an impulse or a fear.
Over the years, I’ve found practices that have helped me tune in. Meditating and swimming help calm my mind. Journaling, right after I wake up when my rational brain is not fully awake yet, is the one approach that has helped me gain the most insight. I let myself write freely when I journal. I allocate twenty minutes on weekdays and unlimited time during weekends. I write my dreams, gratitudes, worries, fears, hopes, and questions. I let my mind wander, and my intuition presents itself eventually, blunt and clear.
I also sleep over key decisions, not only to let time lapse but also to harness the wisdom gained during sleep.
