Living from the Deep: Practical wisdom for discernment
Part 3 of How to make better decisions
Photo by Roan Lavery on Unsplash
If I were to summarise the heart of this short series, it would be something like this: we make better decisions as we get in touch with our deeper truth.
In Part 1 we explored how many of our decisions, whether we realise it or not, are shaped by the deep stories and beliefs we life by. In Part 2 we looked at what begins to change as we create more space inside — what it actually looks and feels like as the inner ‘mirror’ clears and we become less dominated by those voices.
That leaves us with the next question: once we begin to experience that inner freedom, how do we actually discern well? How do we make decisions that reflect what is most true and alive within us, rather than simply reacting to the pressures and demands of life?
This final part attempts to answer that question. I’m not going to offer a rigid formula, because discernment rarely works that way. Instead i’ll draw on some principles that have proven reliable across centuries of spiritual wisdom and modern psychological insight.
This is far from a complete map of discernment. But these principles provide a good starting point, enough to begin practising and discovering which ways of discerning become most reliable for you over time.
The starting point: inner freedom
Ignatius of Loyola, whose work has shaped Christian discernment for centuries, began with an idea that would have no doubt surprised some people in his day. For him, discernment is not primarily a technique. It begins with freedom.
Ignatius believed that decisions become clearer when we are less unconsciously attached to particular outcomes. If we are already clinging to prestige, security, comfort, or control, we will subtly distort the process of finding clarity — without even realising it.
So the first question of discernment is not what should I choose? but am I free enough to choose what leads to deeper life?
Ignatius called this freedom indifference — a word that can sound strange to our modern ears. He didn’t mean apathy. He meant a kind of inner availability: the capacity to move toward what is most life-giving rather than what simply accords with our old inner stories, and keeps us feeling in control and comfortable.
Most of us grow into that freedom slowly, and it rarely happens without sustained attention to our inner world — which is exactly why the work we explored in Parts 1 and 2 is not just background preparation. It is the ground from which genuine discernment grows.
Learning the language of the inner world
One of Ignatius’ most significant insights is that our inner life has a kind of language — and that learning to read it is one of the most important skills we can develop.
He noticed that when people move toward truth, love, and freedom, they often experience certain interior movements he called consolation. This is not simply feeling good. It can include peace, clarity, energy, gratitude, courage, or a deeper sense of connection. Even when life is difficult externally, something inside feels more open and alive.
Desolation is the opposite movement — an interior experience of contraction: discouragement, cynicism, anxiety, self-absorption, a narrowing of the imagination. Everything feels heavier than it really is.
Ignatius’ insight was simple but powerful: if we pay attention to these movements over time, they begin to reveal the deeper direction of our lives. This is not about chasing pleasant emotions or avoiding difficult ones. It is about noticing which paths consistently lead us toward greater freedom, love, and aliveness — and which ones gradually shrink the heart.
Centuries later, psychology has arrived at something similar. Decisions made from a highly activated or contracted nervous system are rarely our wisest ones. Clarity tends to arise when we are regulated, grounded, and present — which is another way of describing what Ignatius meant by consolation.
Discernment involves more than just thinking
Both spiritual tradition and modern psychology agree that discernment is not a purely intellectual process. We have multiple forms of intelligence, and wise decisions tend to draw on more than one of them.
There is rational intelligence — the capacity to analyse, compare, and weigh options — and this insight certainly has a place in our discernment. But there is also emotional intelligence, bodily intuition, and relational awareness. Sometimes the mind says one thing while the body quietly — or not so quietly — says another. A sudden tightening in the chest when you imagine a particular path. A sense of expansion when you consider another. These signals are not infallible, but over time they form a pattern that is certainly worth paying attention to.
It is certainly worthwhile to explore some of the contemplative and somatic practices that help us become more sensitive to this kind of inner communication. Practices such as meditation, contemplative prayer, breathwork, or other forms of body-based awareness gradually train our attention so that we can notice these signals with greater clarity.
You might ask questions like: What happens in my body when I imagine this choice? Do I feel expanded and energised, or contracted and heavy? Does this path awaken something alive in me, or does it slowly drain it?
Remember what actually matters
One of the reasons decisions feel so difficult is that we often try to choose between options without first being clear about what matters most to us. When that happens, every option can look both appealing and confusing at once. We weigh endless pros and cons, ask everyone what they would do, or delay the decision altogether.
What is often missing in those moments is not intelligence or willpower — it is clarity about our values.
A value is more than something we say is important. It is something that carries weight — a kind of interior gravity that draws our attention and energy, often even when we are not fully conscious of it. When we live in alignment with our deeper values, something inside settles. We notice less resistance within. Life feels more coherent, and it tends to flow more effortlessly.
But values do more than simply settle us. They bring us into contact with what is most meaningful in our lives. They orient us toward the work, relationships, and contributions that allow us to become more fully ourselves. When we are living in alignment with what truly matters, there is often a quiet sense of vitality — the feeling that our life is moving in the direction it was meant to.
Clarifying our values may be more important now than ever. For most of human history our choices were limited by circumstance. Today the range of possible paths is expanding rapidly, especially with technologies like AI giving us unprecedented power to create, build, and pursue almost anything we can imagine. That kind of freedom is extraordinary, but without clarity about what truly matters to us, it can also lead us to spend enormous energy building lives that never quite satisfy.
Values help anchor us in the midst of that possibility. They remind us what is actually worth building in the first place.
One way to recognise a core value is that it tends to persist even when it costs something. If something disappears the moment it becomes inconvenient, it is probably a preference. When it continues to matter even when it asks something of us, we are usually closer to what is core.
In my own journey I’ve realised how difficult it can actually be to identify our core values. Often they are not what we initially assume. With deeper inquiry we usually begin to recognise values that have shaped our lives for years but were never consciously named.
For this reason, I’ve recently put together a short seven-day process that walks through several different ways of uncovering and clarifying your core values. I’m looking for a small number of people who would be interested in taking that journey (in your own time) and offering some honest feedback about how you found the process. If that sounds like something you’d like to explore, feel free to reply to this email or message me through Substack.
Discernment matures in relationship
One of the most common mistakes people make in discernment is assuming they have to do it alone. In my experience, that is rarely how clarity emerges.
Almost every significant decision in my own life has been clarified through honest conversation — with a mentor, therapist, spiritual director, or trusted friends. Usually a combination of these. Another person can often see patterns in us that we cannot yet see in ourselves. Sometimes they notice when old patterns are holding us back. Other times they recognise our gifts, passion, or possibilities before we are ready to name them.
There is also a kind of knowing that seems to arise through the act of speaking itself. When we put words to something we’ve been carrying internally — especially when we risk being a little vulnerable — thoughts that felt unclear or tangled begin to take shape. We hear ourselves differently. New recognitions surface.
The quality of the listener matters here. The people who support our discernment the best are usually those who have done enough of their own inner work that they are not trying to steer our decisions toward their preferences. They can listen without needing to fix, control, or project their own story onto ours. In the presence of that kind of person, we often access a deeper knowing than we could reach alone.
Discernment in practice
Jane is trying to decide whether to stay in a job that feels secure but increasingly lifeless.
On paper, everything looks fine. The role is respected, the salary is good, and leaving would involve real uncertainty. But over the past few years something has been shifting. She ends most workdays drained rather than energised. The work no longer holds her attention. She still performs well, but it increasingly feels like she is maintaining a version of herself that no longer quite fits.
At the same time, another thread has persisted in her life. Jane has always cared deeply about education and mentoring. She volunteers occasionally in community programs, and those experiences have consistently felt meaningful in a way her paid work no longer does. Recently she has been wondering about retraining as a counsellor or educator.
When she imagines staying where she is, she notices a heaviness. It’s not panic, but a growing sense of contraction. When she imagines the other path, there is real fear. Questions about money and stability and whether she is being unrealistic. But she is also experiencing lots of energy around this possibility. A sense of coming alive.
The idea keeps returning. And when she finally speaks about it with a trusted friend, the friend says something simple: “You seem more alive when you talk about that.”
Discernment often looks something like this. Not perfect certainty, but a growing recognition of where life seems to be moving, and the courage to follow it.
One method for practising discernment
When facing an important decision, it can help to move through these four kinds of attention, not necessarily all at once, but over time.
1. Notice what is already present. Before analysing the decision itself, pause and observe your inner state. What emotions arise when you think about each option? Excitement, anxiety, resistance, energy? These reactions often reveal which parts of us are speaking — and whether those parts deserve the final word.
2. Reconnect with what matters most. Return to your deeper values. Ask yourself: which option moves me closer to the person I sense I am becoming, or want to become?
The wisest decisions are rarely the ones that simply reduce discomfort. They tend to be the ones that align with what we know to be most true.
3. Watch what unfolds over time. Sit with the decision across days or weeks. Notice which option consistently brings a sense of life, energy, or quiet peace — even if there is also fear present. Clarity often emerges not in a single moment, but through repeated patterns of inner response. Regular journalling can be helpful here (and through the whole process).
4. Test the decision in relationship. Speak the decision aloud to someone you trust. Notice what happens inside you as you explain it. Sometimes we discover what we truly believe simply by hearing ourselves say it, and noticing how it lands within.
The deeper purpose
Ignatius was clear about what discernment is ultimately for.
Not primarily success. Not even primarily happiness. But freedom — freedom for love, for authentic contribution, and for a life that is genuinely ours to live.
As we step more fully into that freedom, something in us tends to expand. Our lives become less driven by fear, expectation, or performance, and more guided by what resounds as most true deep within us.
In that sense, good discernment slowly forms wisdom. It helps us make choices that allow our lives to become more whole, more honest, and ultimately more capable of genuine flourishing.
Where you might begin
Depending on where you find yourself, different next steps may be helpful.
If your inner world still feels dominated by loud or conflicting voices, the most important step may not be decision-making at all.
It may simply be beginning the work of cleaning the mirror.
That work rarely unfolds well alone. It tends to need wise companions: a good therapist, a spiritual director, or trusted friends who can help you see what is difficult to see on your own, and slowly begin to settle the voices that make it hard to hear your deeper truth.
If the mirror has begun to clear, a natural next step is clarifying what truly matters to you. It’s worthwhile coming back to this often, as values can shift and deepen over the course of our lives. Values function like a compass — they don’t map every step of the journey, but they help orient your decisions toward what matters most to you at any given time.
And if you feel ready to practise discernment more intentionally, the invitation is simply to begin paying closer attention to the movements of your inner life as decisions unfold. The Daily Examen practice from Part 2 is a reliable practice for this. Returning to it regularly, even briefly, builds the kind of inner literacy that makes discernment less an occasional effort and more a natural way of moving through life.
I hope this short series supports you in making decisions with a little more clarity, freedom, and confidence. I’d love to know if there is anything in particular that you’ve found helpful — please comment or reply to this email.
— Dan
P.S. Just a reminder to get in touch if you’d be interested in helping test the seven-day values discovery resource.