The Hardest Thing in Life Isn't Getting What You Want - It's Knowing What You Want

Lessons from an osprey in 52-degree water

Thursday truth: The hardest thing in life isn't getting what you want. It's knowing what you want in the first place. And at 46, I'm embarrassingly still figuring this out.

This morning I went down to a beautiful Salish Sea beach in 54-degree weather to swim in 52-degree water (yes, I'm slightly masochistic, and yes, that's Fahrenheit for everyone wondering). While I was psyching myself up to dive into the water (remind me to tell you about the joys of standing around in cold water) that would make a polar bear reconsider its life choices, I witnessed something that stopped me in my tracks.

The Osprey Who Knew

An osprey dove near the shore, going after a fish for breakfast. She came up empty-handed - or should I say empty-taloned. But here's what struck me: she didn't give up, she didn't second-guess herself, she didn't spiral into existential doubt about whether fish were really what she wanted for breakfast.

She knew exactly what she wanted. Food. Specifically, fish. For breakfast. Right now.

She circled around, assessed the situation with the cold calculation of someone who understands that sometimes the buffet has been sitting out too long and you need to find a fresher spot. Then she moved to better hunting grounds with the confidence of someone who has never questioned whether her desires are valid.

No overthinking. No analysis paralysis. Just clear intention and decisive action.

The Human Confusion

Meanwhile, I'm standing on the beach nearly naked, watching this display of clarity while being a walking contradiction of confusion. I'm 46 years old and still don't know what I want career-wise. I can tell you with crystal clarity what I DON'T want - I've got that list memorized, laminated, and filed alphabetically.

But sitting with what I actually WANT? That's terrifying territory.

It should be simple, right? We're humans. We have complex brains, emotional intelligence, and the ability to plan for the future. We should be better at this than a bird whose entire decision-making process appears to be "see fish, dive for fish, eat fish, repeat."

But we're not. At least, I'm not.

Why Wanting Is So Hard

Here's what I think happens: our brains get in the way of our desires. Where the osprey sees a fish and thinks "breakfast," we see opportunity and think "but what if I'm not qualified, what if I fail, what if it's not practical, what if people think I'm crazy, what if it doesn't pay enough, what if I'm too old, what if I change my mind later?"

We've been conditioned to want the "right" things, the practical things, the things that make sense to other people. We've learned to distrust our desires, to question our instincts, to overthink instead of just diving.

The osprey doesn't care if other birds think fish is a basic choice. She doesn't worry about whether diving is the most efficient hunting method or if she should have a backup plan. She wants fish, she sees fish, she goes for fish.

The Career Want Confusion

I'm in the thick of this confusion right now. After 20+ years in one industry, facing the reality that my skills might be obsolete, trying to figure out what comes next. The practical answers are clear - go back to what I know, take any job that pays, stop being picky about meaning and purpose.

But my heart and gut are saying something different. They're whispering about courage and authenticity and building something meaningful. They're suggesting that maybe this disruption is actually a gift, a chance to finally align my work with my values.

My brain, however, is having none of it. "Be realistic," it says. "Pay your bills," it insists. "Stop being naive about what's possible at your age," it lectures.

And caught between these voices, I freeze. Like an osprey who forgot how to hunt because she started overthinking the aerodynamics of diving.

What Animals Know That We Forgot

I believe knowing what you want is the key to getting it. But somewhere along the way, we complicated the knowing part. We made it about strategy and practicality and other people's opinions instead of about the clear, simple pull of desire.

Animals don't have this problem. The osprey doesn't need a vision board or a five-year plan or approval from other ospreys. She needs breakfast, she spots an opportunity, she takes action.

Maybe wanting isn't supposed to be this complicated. Maybe we've intellectualized something that's meant to be felt. Maybe the answer isn't in our heads but in our bodies, in that pull we feel toward certain things, in the energy that rises when we imagine certain possibilities.

The Ask for Wisdom

Today, I learn to want with osprey clarity instead of human confusion.

I'm putting this out to the universe, to anyone reading this who has figured out some piece of this puzzle: How do you know what you want? How do you distinguish between what you think you should want and what you actually want?

Have you ever had a moment of osprey-like clarity about your path? What did that feel like? How did you trust it? How did you act on it?

I'm genuinely asking for advice here. I'm open to wisdom from anyone who has navigated the space between knowing what you don't want and discovering what you do want.

The Cold Water Truth

As I finally dove into that 52-degree water this morning (because sometimes you just have to do the thing even when your brain is screaming about hypothermia), I thought about how the shock of cold water strips away everything non-essential. In that moment, all that matters is breath and movement and the primal satisfaction of doing something your body said was impossible.

Maybe that's what wanting is supposed to feel like - that clear, immediate, undeniable pull toward something that might be uncomfortable but feels absolutely right.

Maybe the trick isn't thinking our way to clarity but feeling our way there. Maybe we need to stop asking "Is this practical?" and start asking "Does this make me feel alive?"

The Questions for You

What do you want? Not what you think you should want, not what would make sense to other people, but what actually calls to you?

Have you gotten your want? If so, how did you figure it out? If not, what's standing in your way?

And most importantly: What would you do if you had the clarity of an osprey and the courage to dive, even into cold water?

I'm listening. The confused human needs all the wisdom she can get.

Speaking the truth means admitting you don't have all the answers and asking for help finding them.