I want to share a story with you about self-trust – not the abstract concept we intellectualize, but the lived experience of learning to follow your own guidance again. It's about that moment when you realize you've been habitually surrendering your trust to something outside yourself, and the quiet power that comes from reclaiming it.

Last week, I went away to Mallorca for three nights and two full days of solitude. I'd come seeking space to recharge, with no particular agenda beyond being alone with my thoughts. After settling into my accommodation, I discovered I was staying right in the middle of the iconic GR-221 – an 8-day hiking trail that crosses the entire island. Something about this discovery stirred me, and I found myself inspired to get on my shoes and start walking.

The next morning, I packed light: a sandwich, some dates, a water bottle and a notebook. No music, no distractions – just me, my thoughts, and the open trail ahead.

My intention was to drive to Deià, take a taxi to Sóller, and then hike back to my car. Simple enough. When I arrived in Deià, I spotted about six taxis waiting in the town square. Perfect.

But after parking and walking back to the square, every taxi had vanished. I waited twenty minutes. Nothing.

This is where our stories often begin, isn't it? We have a plan, the plan meets reality, and suddenly we're faced with a choice: persist with the original vision or adapt.

Something inside me whispered that this was fate's way of redirecting me. Instead of waiting indefinitely for a taxi that might never come, I decided to start my hike from Deià, walk to Sóller, and figure out my return later.

It's a small decision, but it reflects something profound about how we navigate life. How often do we wait at empty taxi stands – metaphorically speaking – because that's what we think we're "supposed" to do? 

How frequently do we ignore our intuition because we're attached to our original plan?

First Steps Are Always Messy

Being my first time on this trail, I downloaded a map from AllTrails to keep myself oriented. I spotted a trail marker in town and began following it confidently.

Thirty minutes later, I found myself staring at the ocean – precisely where I didn't want to be.

Frustration bubbled up as I realized my mistake. I'd been following markers, yet somehow ended up completely off-course. Then I caught myself: This is my first time on this trail. And much like any first time doing anything, it's messy. It doesn't go perfectly. We make mistakes. Things take longer than they need to or should.

This is a universal truth worth remembering. First attempts are difficult at the beginning, messy in the middle, and – if we persist – beautiful at the end. Expecting perfection from our first attempts only leads to unnecessary frustration.

I turned on my phone, checked the map, and realized I'd missed a turn about 20 minutes back. With a deep breath, I began climbing back up 500 feet of elevation through an olive grove to find the main trail.

The Difference Between Support and Surrender

About an hour later, I was crossing an old road when I came to what looked like a dead end. Just moments before, I'd seen a trail marker pointing this way, but now I was staring at an impassable thicket.

My hand instinctively reached for my phone, a string of frustrated expletives under my breath. "Where the hell do I go now?"

And then I caught myself.

STOP! Why was I so quick to pull out my phone? Why wasn't I looking around first? Why was my immediate reaction to outsource my trust to an app rather than relying on my own perception?

I put the phone back in my pack. I retraced my steps. I looked carefully at my surroundings. There – barely visible – were some tread marks in the mud. I followed them up over a ridge, and suddenly I was back on the trail.

And to my good fortune, a fresh coffee and a divine slice of lemon meringue was on the other side of the next mountain pass. 

This simple moment of awareness struck me deeply. When faced with uncertainty, how quickly do we give away our trust to something or someone else?

Don't misunderstand me – I'm a huge advocate for seeking expertise. When I trained for my first Ironman, I hired a coach rather than trying to figure everything out myself. That way, I could focus on being the athlete, not simultaneously being the coach and the athlete.

But there's a crucial difference between engaging support for something you've never done before and habitually outsourcing your trust to others.

I see this pattern in my coaching practice constantly. Some clients become almost addicted to external direction. "What should I say in this conversation?" "What should I do next?" "Tell me exactly how to handle this situation."

While guidance is valuable when navigating truly unfamiliar territory or learning new approaches to old problems, chronic dependence on someone else's direction prevents us from developing our own internal guidance system.

As my friend Mark Cullen once told me when I was considering buying an expensive power meter for my bike: "Want to know the best power meter out there? The feeling you have in your own legs."

I recently worked with a client who struggled with the decision to fire a team member who clearly wasn't a good fit for the organization. "I knew this person should have been gone over two years ago," he confessed to me, "but I kept second-guessing myself, asking for more opinions, looking for more data."

It wasn't until this employee got into a significant altercation with a client – creating ripples throughout the entire organization – that my client finally made the decision. By then, it required no courage at all because the situation had become so obvious, but the cost to the business had been enormous.

How often do we wait until circumstances force our hand rather than trusting what we already know?

Doing Your Original Work

Our tendency to quickly surrender our trust often stems from past experiences where our own judgment led to pain. When we've experienced trauma, we're more likely to doubt ourselves and look externally for direction.

This is why reclaiming self-trust is such a crucial part of the healing journey. It's about rebuilding confidence in our ability to attune to our environment – both externally and internally – and make choices that are true for us in each moment.

It requires embracing the courage to acknowledge our feelings and live through the vulnerability of their consequences. This is what I call "truthwalking" – following your own authentic path even when it feels exposed and uncertain.

Just as I instinctively reached for my phone on that Spanish mountain trail, we all habitually outsource our trust in moments of uncertainty. Being aware of these moments gives us the opportunity to make a different choice – to trust ourselves and reclaim our power to live our own original lives.

If we can't trust ourselves, we'll struggle to do our own original work – the contributions that come uniquely from within us. This is about far more than just being creative; it's about embracing your distinctive voice and perspective.

There's tremendous value in apprenticeship – in learning from experts and masters in your field, absorbing their frameworks and approaches. This is how we build foundational skills and understanding. But at some point, to truly master your craft and make your unique contribution, you must embark on a journey beyond apprenticeship toward originality.

This progression from apprentice to master requires a critical step that many avoid: you must begin creating and sharing work that is uniquely yours. Work that may be influenced by your teachers but is fundamentally shaped by your own perspective, experiences, and insights.

This transition demands courage. And courage requires healing the wounds that have led us to surrender our trust so quickly.

In a world increasingly dominated by artificial intelligence – where algorithms can generate content, analyze data, and even mimic creativity – our most valuable contribution will be our authenticity. Our survival and long-term ability to create value depends on our capacity to produce work that could only come from our unique human experience.

Whether that's academic research that challenges conventional thinking, leading a team in a way that reflects your values, parenting in a way that honors your family's unique needs, designing a home that expresses your sensibilities, or simply living a life adorned with the elements that uniquely make you come alive – your original work matters.

Where Are You Outsourcing Your Trust?

The rest of my hike to Sóller was magnificent. The trail climbed up through ancient olive groves, alongside stone walls built centuries ago, and through mountain passes with views that stole my breath.

When I finally descended into the valley of Sóller, tired but exhilarated, I felt a deeper connection not just to the island but to myself. I had made mistakes, gotten lost, found my way again, and ultimately trusted my own instincts to complete the journey.

And that's really what self-trust is about – not perfect navigation, but the confidence to keep moving forward even when the path isn't clear, knowing you have what it takes to find your way.

As you reflect on your own journey, I invite you to consider: Where might you be unconsciously outsourcing your trust to someone or something else? Where do you have an opportunity to start trusting yourself more fully?

A powerful question to ask yourself is: "What do I know I need to do but for whatever reason I'm not ready?"

I've confronted this question repeatedly in my own life. I've outsourced my trust on big career moves, staying in them long after I knew they weren't right for me. I've delayed making decisions about intimate relationships that weren't working, seeking endless external opinions rather than honoring what I already knew deep down. I've waited for permission from others to pursue projects that called to me clearly.

The journey back to self-trust isn't always a straight path. Like the GR-221, it winds through challenging terrain, sometimes leading us temporarily astray before bringing us back to ourselves.

But with each step we take in trusting our own guidance, we grow stronger in our ability to live authentically and contribute our unique gifts to the world.

And that, I believe, is a journey worth taking.