Let Desire Lead: A New Way to Navigate Growth
What Happens After You Follow the Pull
You followed it. The curiosity that wouldn’t quiet. The interest that kept surfacing even when logic suggested otherwise. The pull toward something your practical mind couldn’t justify but your body kept leaning toward.
And now you’re here—in the middle of it—discovering that following desire doesn’t end questions. It deepens them.
The photography class reveals you’re actually interested in light and shadow, which opens questions about how you see the world. The conversation with a stranger sparks an idea that won’t let go. The detour you took because something felt alive there becomes the path that reshapes everything else.
It doesn’t deliver a clear destination. It reveals layers. Each step shows you something about who you’re becoming that you couldn’t have seen from where you stood before. The pull doesn’t promise certainty—it promises aliveness. Information. The kind of learning that only happens when you’re actually engaged, not just thinking about engaging.
Your desire knows things your planning mind can’t access yet. It recognizes resonance before you can name why. It moves toward growth that doesn’t announce itself with credentials or guarantees.
Following what pulls you means trusting that the clarity comes through the doing, not before it.
That the path reveals itself as you walk, not while you’re still standing at the threshold asking for proof it leads somewhere worthwhile.
Some pulls fade after a few steps—their job was to move you, not keep you. Others deepen, opening territory you didn’t know existed. Both teach you something essential about your own aliveness, about what actually matters when you strip away what you think should matter.
Moments with Breah
What Lin Followed Without Permission
Lin had been staring at the pottery class flyer on the community board for three weeks.
Every time she walked past, something in her chest would lift slightly. A warmth. A quiet yes.
And every time, her mind would step in with reasons: You’re busy. You’re not artistic. This isn’t practical.
But the pull kept returning.
One Thursday, Lin walked past the studio on her way home. Saw people through the window, hands covered in clay, laughing. That warmth bloomed again.
She stood there for a moment. Then walked in and signed up before her mind could intervene.
The first class felt awkward. Her bowl was lopsided. Her hands didn’t know what to do. But something in her had settled—like a part of herself she hadn’t heard from in years was finally getting air.
By the third week, she realized something: the pull toward pottery wasn’t about becoming a potter. It was about needing her hands to make something, to work with material that responded to pressure and patience.
It was about remembering she could create without a deadline or outcome attached.
When Breah asked what she’d been up to, Lin held up her misshapen mug. “Following something that made no sense.”
“And?” Breah asked.
“It’s teaching me more about how I want to work in the rest of my life than any book has.”
Breah smiled. “That’s what desire does when you stop asking it to justify itself.”
— Bibi Ohlsson
Written by: Bibi Ohlsson
I write in the space where life tilts—those small, unmistakable moments when something inside you moves first, and the rest of your world begins to follow.
This is where recognition becomes direction.
Here, we explore the questions that stretch you, the patterns that reveal you, and the subtle shifts that quietly rewire the way you meet your days.
If you sense a truer version of your life just within reach, you’re already in the right place.
What you read here is meant to spark ideas and offer education—not to replace medical, mental health, financial, or legal guidance.
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