Listening to My Body, Finding My Truth
“You have been weighed. You have been measured, and you have been found wanting.”
— A Knight’s Tale / Daniel 5:27
This phrase has echoed through my mind for years, its weight pressing into me without explanation—until now. The moment of understanding came like a freight train, a revelation crashing through the walls of my being. Human Design told me that my motivation is desire—and suddenly, everything made sense. A fire lit up in my body, a recognition of something achingly true.
Desire is not just a fleeting craving. It is my compass. It is the lens through which I can see myself clearly, the current that carries me into flow. When I ask myself, “What do I want?” and I answer honestly, the world sharpens into focus.
But what happens when someone else sees my desire before I do? When they name what I am feeling before I can put words to it? My instinct has always been resistance, to push against it, to assert my independence. But if I surrender to these moments, I find something unexpected—alignment. When I fight, I lose my sense of self.
Am I acting from true desire, or am I simply rebelling against another’s expectation? That is not freedom. That is not flow.
The Hunger of Knowing and Unknowing
G asked if I was hungry. I didn’t know.
This wasn’t avoidance. It wasn’t hesitation. It was truth—my body had not answered yet. When I don’t know what I want, I don’t feel anything. I exist in limbo, waiting for the signal. When I allow myself to sit in this unknowing, something shifts. If I eat without hunger but in good company, I feel joy because connection nourishes me. If I eat when I am hungry, I feel flow. My body confirms my desire.
During this conversation, my stomach grumbled. The answer arrived late, but it arrived. I felt pride. Not just for recognizing hunger, but for honoring the patience it took to get there. I was proud because, for a brief moment, I had aligned my wandering desire with something concrete.
That feeling—the rush of recognition, the deep inhale of certainty—is a high unlike any other. When I experience it, I want to tell the world. Not for validation, not for competition, but because the joy is too big to keep inside. I know myself in this moment, and I want to share it.
I feel this when I am skiing. I am the bestest. I feel flow.
I feel this when I catch a fish. I am the bestest. I feel flow.
I feel this when I recover a vehicle. I am the bestest. I feel flow.
It does not matter if I am more or less than anyone else. What matters is that I am better than I was before. Because I know my desires, and in knowing my desires, I know myself.
The Cycle of Remembering and Forgetting
And then—
The thought was gone.
Panic. Shame. If I was so smart, so in tune, how could I forget? The clarity that had felt like an unshakable truth just moments ago dissolved like mist.
Gianni reminded me.
The thought returned.
The pride swelled again, and I stood tall, superhero pose, five-foot-four but ten feet tall in spirit. In that moment, I was fully me. My glorious self. Creativity surged through my veins. I wanted to move, to dance, to write, to express.
And then—
Grief.
A wave of sorrow crashed over me. For the versions of myself who had never known this feeling. For the times I had wandered without a compass, unknowing that my own desires were my north star. I wept for the girl who had felt lost. I wept for the teenager who had fought, clawing against control but not knowing how to direct her own will. I wept for the young adult who had mistaken rebellion for authenticity.
And yet, in that grief, there was hope.
I am here now.
I know now.
And I can choose to give this feeling to myself again and again.
The Evolution of Desire
I thought about childhood. I demand my desires.
I thought about adolescence. I fight for my desires.
But what does desire look like in maturity?
I can demand without being a child. No tantrums. No hiding.
I can express without being a teenager. No snarkiness. No avoidance.
I can know what I want and say it out loud.
I can not know what I want and be patient.
I can hear what others want for me without mistaking it for my own truth.
Desire is not reckless. It is not selfish. It is my path to myself.
And I am listening.
