Awakening Your Inner Gaze: An Exercise in Shared Resonance

Have you ever felt a jolt in the middle of your hectic day when you catch yourself wondering, “Do I really know what I’m good at?” You might dismiss it at first as a fleeting doubt: “I’ll figure it out later.” Yet that simple question tends to resurface whenever tasks pile up, meetings overlap, and your calendar swallows every moment of reflection.

What’s curious is that—even with years of professional and personal experience under our belts—many of us have learned to manage projects, lead teams, or close deals, and still ignore that inner voice whispering, “There’s a hidden talent here.” We assume it’s normal to communicate or negotiate skillfully—until we pause and realize we’re operating on autopilot, without fully understanding why we shine in one area and stall in another.

Speaking out loud, I see that this feeling is almost universal. I know colleagues who, after delivering a standout presentation, chalk it up to luck; others who, when they’re in the role of helper, end up asking for help themselves. And I’m not talking about people without training—I mean professionals who’ve invested in ongoing development, and yet are surprised to uncover skills they’ve been using naturally all along.

I believe this bewilderment stems from the gap between doing and being. We were taught to meet goals: launch products, adopt methodologies, run teams. But not so much to ask ourselves honestly, “Which part of me is flowing here?” or “What absorbs me completely so I lose track of time?” That paradox—being adept at action while remaining strangers to our own source of motivation—is what gives rise to that ignored inner voice.

And yet, when we stop—even if just for a moment—and tune into those moments when everything seems to click, something shifts. It’s not a productivity hack, but an act of self-recognition: admitting, “This right here—this connection with myself—is what works.” That awareness doesn’t require magic formulas or grand plans; it only asks us to honor that spark as a starting point.

By releasing the urgency to find “the right answer” and instead acknowledging, “I feel that too,” we make room for a more genuine conversation. Questions emerge without the weight of a manual: “When do I forget to look at the clock?” or “What actually refuels me when everything else drains me?” We’re not building another checklist; we’re mapping an inner territory that deserves our attention.

When we share those doubts with peers, something powerful happens: we realize we’re not alone. We see ourselves in each other’s experiences, weaving a tapestry of stories that validates our own uncertainty. Paradoxically, that validation builds trust—because, in the end, wondering about your inner talent isn’t a sign of weakness, but of honesty with yourself.

You might not close this article today with a concrete plan. You may simply carry a small spark of curiosity: “What if I took one minute tomorrow to really listen to myself?” That spark—spoken aloud—is already a step toward transformation.