004 • Trust the pull
Invisible threads in the not-knowing.
“When I listen to you it feels like looking at my future through a window”.
That’s what a dear friend told me a few days ago, while I was updating her on some of the latest. Mostly a few things of what this journey called entrepreneurship is teaching me, across so many layers.
She’s a close friend I met about a year ago, someone I called “a friend from another life” not long after we’d shared a few conversations. A certain level of resonance, you can’t fake that.
Anyway, back to her comment.
I took it in, and I immediately connected to what she meant. I smiled at her genuinely, as a sign of empathy and companionship. I said: “I know.”
I sat with that moment again, though. A few versions of me ago, I wouldn’t have been able to respond that way. I would have shied away. I would have heard that comment as evidence that I was further ahead, better, while simultaneously believing I didn’t deserve any of it. Where were the proofs? The achievements? The version of me that had made humility a condition for being liked would never have wanted to be seen as someone “ahead”. That perspective came from a lack of self-esteem, of confidence.
From here, the reflections can take many routes.
There’s one, specific and clear, I want to put into words. It has to do with gratitude. One of the most difficult feelings to experience in its purest form, in an embodied way. At least for me.
This week was glorious. It held a lot of that. And if words are a tool for remembering, let them be.
It’s been about a year that I’ve been living in this space of “not-knowing.”
Resigned from my corporate job, studied again, chose entrepreneurship. I’m one of those Millennials who was handed life-defining questions and chose to dive deep into what they opened up. The journey is anything but linear: the shaping of my work moves in step with the shaping of my Self. It takes time, and most of that time is spent sitting with questions rather than collecting answers. Yes, even now, when all kinds of knowledge seem to be available. But the knowledge of what’s within, nobody creates that but you. And this “not-knowing” is a demanding space. At times exhausting, at times lonely. It is also full of creativity, life force, and passion. No matter the mood of the day, the bottom line is: I cherish it, I embrace it, I chose it.
My friend’s words pointed me toward the gratitude I felt. I found myself thinking of three people I connected with this past year.
Eleonora Valenti, my career coach, who named her practice Human Careers. Wil Brown, my movement coach, who named his Figuring Things Out. Tom English, my very first teacher, who founded the movement collective Ferus Animi // Terra Nova. It’s Latin, and hard to translate, but the closest attempt gives something like “fierce, wild spirit meeting (or belonging to) a new world.”
Human Careers. Figuring Things Out.
A fierce, wild spirit meeting a new world.
I love it. I feel connected to each of them. The names alone feel like a confirmation of the steps I’ve taken.
So how did I get there? To meeting them, choosing them, learning with and from them?
This is where a beautiful metaphor comes in. One I borrowed from my coach Ele: being connected through invisible threads.
An invisible thread has a pulling quality. It’s energy and intention; it becomes a voice, a name, a face, a body in time, when you finally meet whoever is on the other side. Invisible threads ask for patience. You don’t always need them, but when the pull comes, when it’s time to be guided and held, it is imperative to follow.
And trust. Trust, and trust again.
The guidance that arrives is uplifting, inspiring, and it keeps you free. Free to grow, to reshape what you’ve received until it becomes yours, and to spread it, if that’s what you wish.
These three invisible threads manifested as professional relationships I chose to say yes to. They have been anything but transactional. I draw courage from witnessing what each of them has built, and joy from being part of it.
I am grateful, and that gratitude came through grief.
That infamous feeling I opened the door to a year ago, when the choice was between leaving a place I loved deeply, with its community, or proving self-respect to myself. I chose the latter.
Grief is long-lasting. It moves in waves, and it still does.
Without it, though, I would never have sought the guidance I found. I wouldn’t have trusted the pull. So thank you, grief. Maybe this is the deepest sign of acceptance yet.
These invisible threads are becoming easier to notice. I feel surrounded by good people, my people. And even though loneliness remains my number one fear, I know now, more than ever, that I have allies, companions, and friends.
And I can be, and become, an invisible thread too.
Take care.
There’s no better ending than a poem. Breathe in, and read it out.
“This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.”
These reflections are part of my ongoing practice. The newsletter goes deeper, and offers something that might invite your curiosity. Subscribe here.
Or if something in you is ready to explore your journey with me, a discovery call is where we begin. Book it here.
Eleonora Ricci is an Embodied Wellbeing Coach, ICF ACC credentialed, based in Amsterdam, working in person and online with individuals, teams and communities who are ready to quiet the noise, deepen self-awareness and live with more curiosity, intention and clarity.
