Knowing Isn’t Always a Fact; Sometimes It’s a Feeling That’s Done Its Homework
Let’s begin with a gentle truth bomb:
I don’t always know how I know.
But I do.
And that knowing has texture.
It’s not a guess.
It’s not a vibe.
It’s a pattern that’s been quietly collecting receipts while I was busy alphabetising my snack drawer.
The Loop That Lands (Eventually)
Some truths arrive sideways.
They loop.
They revisit.
They hum in the background like a suspiciously catchy jingle until one day they say, “Right, I’m ready.”
This is spiral knowing.
It doesn’t rush.
It metabolises.
It arrives with depth, not drama, though sometimes it does wear a cape.
Examples of “I Know How I Know” (Even If I Can’t Cite It)
- I know someone’s lying because their tone sounds like a badly rehearsed apology email
- I know a project’s wrong for me because my enthusiasm evaporates mid-sentence like cheap perfume
- I know I’m onto something because my metaphors start breeding
- I know I’m safe because my shoulders stop auditioning for a role in “Tension: The Musical”
This isn’t magic.
It’s memory, pattern, and emotional fluency.
It’s lived experience disguised as instinct wearing a trench coat.
What to Say When Someone Asks “But How Do You Know?”
- “I’ve seen this shape before”
- “It’s not a hunch, it’s a pattern with a loyalty card”
- “My body flagged it before my brain did”
- “I’ve looped this thought enough times to trust it”
- “I don’t have a citation, but I do have a very convincing eyebrow raise”
Because not all knowing fits inside a footnote.
Some of it lives in the spiral.
Some of it lives in your bones.
And some of it lives in the part of your brain that only speaks in metaphor and snacks.
How to Honour Your Knowing (Without Needing to Justify It)
- Let it speak before you edit it
- Write it down, even if it’s shaped like a haiku written by a raccoon
- Share it with someone who won’t ask for proof, just vibes
- Build frameworks that include emotional logic and tea breaks
- Trust the timing, some knowing arrives late but lands true, like a plot twist in a slow-burning drama
Knowing isn’t just cognitive.
It’s relational.
It’s embodied.
It’s yours.
Even if it arrives wearing pyjamas and carrying a metaphorical baguette.
Final Thought: You Know More Than You Think And Differently Than You’re Told
You don’t need to explain everything you know.
You don’t need to flatten it into data.
You don’t need to apologise for sensing, looping, or arriving sideways with a glitter pen and a hunch.
You just need to notice:
What’s true for you?
What’s recurring?
What’s quietly insistent and slightly dramatic?
Know how you know.
Name it.
Tend it.
And let it guide you
Even if no one else sees the map.
Especially then.
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