Finding your True North

For a long time, whenever I felt like I was getting lost in life, I thought the solution was to find the right path. I usually do this when I didn’t feel like myself anymore or when I feel like my decisions are based from my reaction instead of choosing with intention.

So I would search. I would look through social media, research things and somehow, the more answers I found, the more lost I became.

Knowing what other people are doing doesn’t really tell you what you want to do. I think maybe the goal isn’t really to find the right path. Maybe it’s to find your own.

If you ever seen a compass, there’s a needle that spins around and points north. It’s actually pointing towards the magnetic north, a direction created by Earth’s magnetic field that shifts over time. The true North on the other hand is the exact top of our planet in the north pole and it never moves.

Long ago, sailors and explorers learned that if they only trusted the compass needle they could end up going the wrong way. So they had to find other ways to find their direction. One of them was by looking up at the stars. While most of the stars seemed to move across the sky during the night, the North Star barely moved at all because it sits almost directly above the North Pole. For sailors, it was like a giant signpost in the sky that points them towards the true north.

Life can sometimes feel a lot like that compass. Friends, fear, comparison, social pressure and wanting to fit in, all of these things can pull at us and make it difficult to tell which direction is actually ours. If you filtered out all those external noise you’ll be left with what you genuinely believe. What you value and what you genuinely want. People started calling that “true north” too. Just like the real North Pole, it’s something you can look toward when you’re pulled in ten different directions and don’t know what you want anymore.

So how do you find your true north? How do you know what you really want?

Having a “true north” sounds nice but I think people sometimes mistake it for that vague feeling of wanting to be successful or happy. But those aren’t really directions. They’re destinations that are so broad you could spend your whole life chasing them without knowing if you’re actually getting closer. A real true north is something you can actually navigate by, which means it needs a little more structure.

For me, I think finding your true north starts with having a clear vision instead of simply following whatever you feel in the moment. Mapping out your goals, timelines, and milestones could help. A true north you can’t describe is a true north you can’t actually walk towards.

One of the first things I did, without even realizing I was doing it for this reason, was trying to understand myself. I got interested in things like Ikigai and MBTI because I wanted to know myself better. I wanted to understand what I was good at, what I enjoyed, what kind of things mattered to me, and why I naturally think and behave the way I do. At the time, I was just thinking, I need to figure myself out.

Before you can set a direction, it helps to know what you’re actually working with. Who are you, really? What are you good at? What do you enjoy, what matters to you, what kind of life feels natural to you? I think this is an important part of finding your true north because your direction can’t be completely separate from who you are. If you build a life around someone else’s definition of success, even if you manage to reach it, you can still end up somewhere that doesn’t feel like you.

This is why I found things like Ikigai and MBTI interesting. They’re not going to tell you who you are with absolute certainty, and they’re definitely not going to hand you a five-year plan. But they can give you somewhere to start. In case you’re not familiar with those two: Ikigai, looks at the overlap between what you love, what you’re good at, what the world needs, and what you can be paid for. MBTI gives you another way of thinking about how you naturally process information and interact with the world. They aren’t the final answer, but they’re useful starting coordinates.

Once you have a better idea of who you are and what matters to you, then I think it becomes easier to decide where you actually want to go. Choose a final goal or at least a few big goals then reverse-engineer it. What do I want my life to look like in five years? What would need to happen this year to move me closer to it? My values? What habits do I need to build, and which ones do I need to let go of? What kinds of people and environments bring me closer to the person I want to be, and which ones pull me away from it?

Once you have a direction, you can also study people who’ve built something similar. Learn their steps, mistakes, timelines, and regrets. Keep what fits you and skip what doesn’t. Sometimes you’ll even realize a goal isn’t what you actually want once you see what it takes and that’s useful too.

I also think there’s something to be said for being a little delusional. Dreaming bigger than what currently feels reasonable can push you further than playing it safe. Aiming high has a way of raising your ceiling, even if you never fully reach it.

But I’ll be honest, it can backfire too. If the dream stays so big and vague that it never turns into an actual plan, it stops being motivating and becomes a comfortable fantasy that lets you avoid the small work you need to do today. That’s why the dream alone isn’t enough. You need something steadier underneath it: a true north.

And I don’t think your true north is just a list of things you want to accomplish. It’s also a sense of who you want to be while you’re accomplishing them. Your values and priorities. The kind of life you want to live or the things you don’t want to sacrifice just to arrive faster. In that sense, your true north is both a direction and a reference point. It tells you where you’re going, but it also helps you to recognize whether the person walking there is still you. Because what would be the point of reaching your destination if you had to become someone you don’t recognize to get there?

For that direction to hold, I think it also has to be something you can move toward on your own. Not something that depends on someone else to make it possible.

That doesn’t mean rejecting people or refusing help, though. If someone comes along and wants to walk beside you, let them. They might even change your vision for the better. Your true north doesn’t have to be completely fixed; sometimes the people you meet show you possibilities you couldn’t see on your own. What it shouldn’t do is disappear the moment these people leave.

I think that’s what makes a true north different from simply having goals. Goals can change. Plans can fall apart. People can leave. You can discover that something you once wanted isn’t actually what you want anymore.

Its like building your own life system. It looks different for everyone, sometimes its a daily routine where in the morning you wake up early and dance to something because you really like dancing or it lifts up your spirit and you want to start the day like that, followed by a list of tasks you created every weekend then at night you drink chamomile tea for a better sleep. Sometimes a life system is going out on a solo date every month and buying yourself flowers even when you’re in a relationship because receiving flowers makes you feel loved and you don’t want your experience of love to depend entirely on someone else, going to the sea atleast once a year, taking an overseas trip atleast once a year or maybe going to the gym, joining fun runs, learning a new skill, trying a new hobby every quarter or hiking once a year.

Your true north is the reference point you can return to when you’re lost, when you’re torn between options or when everyone around you seems to be moving in a different direction. It isn’t necessarily the exact life you will end up living. It’s the direction that still feels like you.

What If I see The Starry Night And Felt Nothing?

When I imagine myself standing in front of The Starry Night by Van Gogh, I always assume I’d cry. I’d stare at the painting, and it would somehow stare back at me. All the emotions I’d unknowingly kept hidden would finally pour out. The Starry Night is, after all, a painting that has inspired millions.

I’ve never seen The Starry Night in person, but I think I’ve already ruined it for myself. I’ve convinced myself that if I don’t experience some kind of spiritual awakening in front of it, then I’ve somehow failed both Van Gogh and myself. I think I do this with almost everything. Trips, concerts, meeting people, birthdays, and especially New Year’s. I spend so much time imagining these moments. And once I’m actually there, I don’t know what to do with myself.

Somewhere along the way, I think I convinced myself that meaningful experiences are supposed to look a certain way: goosebumps, tears, perfectly timed background music, and one dramatic inhale. I fear one day I’d stand in front of The Starry Night and think, Oh… it’s smaller than I imagined. Then I’d look at everyone around me to see if they’re having a better emotional experience than I am. It is ridiculous. It’s like trying to enjoy a sunset while checking whether you’re enjoying the sunset correctly.

I once read that our brains are surprisingly good at imagining rewards and surprisingly bad at receiving them. That probably explains online shopping. And crushes.

But anticipation is real. Maybe it’s just doing a different job. Maybe its purpose is simply to get us there. After that, we’re on our own.

The more I think about it, the more I wonder if the moments that change us aren’t obvious at all. Perhaps we’re busy looking for fireworks that we don’t see what’s really happening.

Maybe, when I finally see The Starry Night, I’ll stay a little longer. Maybe I’d notice the silence, someone coughing in the corner, or a little kid walking straight past The Starry Night painting without a second glance. Its incredible how childrens ignore what everyone else has agreed is important, while adults spend half their lives wondering if they’re reacting correctly or how to react or what to feel. I guess that’s the reason why I keep waiting for life-changing revelations, when our lives really are often built from small moments that seem ordinary at first.

I’m afraid of feeling nothing but I’m more afraid that I’ll miss what was actually there because I was too busy comparing it to the version I’d already lived a hundred times inside my head. If that ever happens, I hope I remember to stay a little longer or just look again but not harder.