Listening to Our Inner Wisdom
Turning inward for clarity during critical transition in career and life
A few years ago, a mentee called me feeling deeply torn. His contract as an analyst at McKinsey was coming to an end, and he had received two offers - one from the Gates Foundation, the other from a top-tier tech company. He had already spoken to many people but still couldn’t decide. He wanted my advice.
I couldn’t help but laugh and told him, “This is a first-world problem.” Both opportunities were exceptional. What was there to agonize over? Jokes aside, I still sat down with him and built a structured decision framework, weighing pros and cons in a very McKinsey way.
At McKinsey, there is an unwritten rule: Never make decisions alone.
Everyone is encouraged to build their own “advisory board” - a small group of trusted people who can offer perspective and support. When facing important decisions, you consult widely, gather views, and arrive at the most rational conclusion possible.
The logic is simple: leverage collective experience and minimize risk.
For a long time, I benefited from this approach. I received generous, thoughtful advice that shaped many of my choices.
But over time, I began to see the other side. Too many voices can become noise.
When we face major decisions, often we already sense our inclination deep down.
But we hesitate to trust it. So we keep consulting, hoping to reach a kind of consensus.
The problem is that every meaningful choice has arguments on both sides. The more perspectives we gather, the easier it is to become paralyzed. Sometimes the issue isn’t lack of information. It’s that we’ve outsourced our decision.
In Buddhism, there is the idea that everyone possesses Buddha nature - an innate capacity for awakening.
In Erickson coaching philosophy, one of the core principles is similar: clients have all the resources within themselves to solve the problem. The coach’s role is not to provide answers, but to help uncover what is already there.
I had heard these ideas before. But understanding them is different from living them.
Looking back at the major decisions I least regret in my life, they were all made in quiet moments - when I faced my own truth.
After high school, I chose another college at the last minute
After college, I left my major in hospitality management and entered banking
Years later, I resigned, left Hong Kong after nearly a decade, and started over in the U.S
After nearly a decade in consulting, I left McKinsey
Each time, people around me were surprised, sometimes even shocked.
But you only live your own life once. You are the one who carries its warmth and its weight.
Over time, I have come to believe: There is no optimal choice, only the choice that is most aligned with you.
In recent years, I’ve been practicing how to lower the volume of external noise and listen more carefully inward.
Sometimes it’s traveling alone - walking through unfamiliar streets, wandering local markets, sitting quietly in museums, or talking to strangers. In new environments, my senses sharpen, and thoughts that were buried under routine begin to surface.
Sometimes it’s long hikes. In my last year in Hong Kong, I spent most weekends in the mountains. What began as training for an endurance challenge slowly became something else - hours of uninterrupted space. As my feet moved, my mind softened. Questions that once felt tangled gradually found clarity.
Sometimes it’s writing. Putting confusion, fear, and unspoken desires onto paper. Often, once everything is laid out honestly, the answer reveals itself.
And sometimes it’s meditation. After attending a ten-day Vipassana silent retreat last year, mindfulness became a more consistent practice for me. Meditation is rarely comfortable. But in sitting with discomfort and watching thoughts arise and pass, I’ve learned to distinguish fear from intuition.
These practices may not work for everyone. The form matters less than the willingness.
What matters is whether you allow yourself space - free from constant input - long enough to hear your own voice.
I don’t dismiss the value of an external advisory board, and I still turn to it to seek career and life advice when needed. Other perspectives often illuminate blind spots. But I have also come to believe that maturity is not about gathering more advice. It is about having the courage to trust your own judgment.
When the world gets loud, perhaps the most important voice to invite into the room is your own.
Inner wisdom rarely disappears.
We are often just too busy or too afraid to listen.
And when you are willing to pause, even briefly, you may find that the answer has been there all along.
Many high-performing professionals reach similar inflection points in their careers. If you’re navigating a transition of your own, you can learn more about my coaching work here.
