The Difference Between Believing Something and Knowing It in Your Bones | Blog

For years, I’ve noticed that what we believe about ourselves and the world often sets the stage for how we experience life.

But lately, as Aila Coats and I have been co-creating an upcoming new offering, one that reflects our body of work over the last 25 years (30 for me; I am a bit older after all 😁), I’ve been reflecting on something deeper:

It isn’t just belief. It’s what we know to be true at our core.

The kind of knowing that doesn’t live in the head, but in the bones. The kind that doesn’t need to be rehearsed or remembered, because it simply is.

A few mornings ago, I woke up to a voice message from Aila. It touched me deeply. With her permission, I want to share a part of it with you.

She spoke about the familiar phrase, “we’re spiritual beings having a human experience.” For years, she said, that was more of a beautiful idea, a belief shared with her via her spiritual teachers and mentors. She believed it, but it was abstract.

And then she shared about losing her daughter, Rowan. In the midst of the grief, something unexpected revealed itself.

Aila described the raw waves of pain, moments where it felt like she’d never escape, like she might die from the intensity. And yet, at the very same time, she experienced something else: a witness inside her, an untouchable essence that was not destroyed by the loss.

One moment, she was in primal sobs, the next, she and Dhiraj, her husband, were laughing hysterically.

Both experiences were real. Both lived side by side.

As well as the witnesser: observing, seeing the grief, the despair, the joy, the thinking, and processing. Watching it all shift, move, and come back again.

In that paradox, she came to know something that had only been a concept before:

“I’m a spiritual being. Nothing in the human experience, not even the greatest loss, can touch that essence.”

“There’s a divine nature and it’s experiencing all of this.”

That realization changed her. It changed how she moved through grief and how she now shows up with others.

When she sits with someone in heartache, failure, or uncertainty, she sees both their humanity and their deeper nature. She knows they will be okay, even if they don’t yet.

That’s a powerful space to hold for others.

This core knowing seeps into parenting, coaching, and her own well-being.

What we know to be true at our core shapes everything.

I’ve seen this in my own life, too. For a long time, I lived with a quiet fear underneath. Fear of upsetting others, fear of getting things wrong, and a fear of hard things.

That fear kept me from having hard conversations. It was often disguised as getting over it, seeing their point of view, and hurrying to compassion and understanding, while overriding how I felt.

It had me put off big challenges at times when I felt totally in the dark about what to do.

But over time, something else began to take root: I’m ok no matter what. Wisdom will come to me and help me rise to the occasion.

I can handle being vulnerable and sharing myself more honestly. I can handle tough challenges that require me to face the unknown or uncomfortable consequences.

That knowing changed the way I moved through life. Suddenly, the hard conversations were still uncomfortable, but it no longer made sense not to share myself more honestly. The big challenges and outcomes were still uncertain, but they no longer stopped me.

Like Aila’s realization, this wasn’t about repeating an affirmation or trying to convince myself. It was lived. It shows up in the moments when I need it most.

What we know to be true at our core shapes how we move through everything – grief, failure, love, and business.

If you know you aren’t fragile at your essence, setbacks won’t define you.

If you know resilience and creativity are your nature, you’ll put your trust there, rather than trying to control yourself or life.

If you know you’re ok no matter what, you can face life’s challenges without shrinking back.

Beliefs can inspire us, but lived knowing transforms us.

And when what you know in your bones becomes the ground you stand on, life, in all its pain and possibility, is no longer something to fear, but something to meet fully.