Two North Stars

Not one, but two North Stars — different in their teachings, but together they helped me find my own way.

—

The First Star

Dyer came first,

when I was still muscling through life —

pushing,

fixing,

pretending I was fine.

Then I read:

“You’ll see it when you believe it.”

It turned my world inside out.

I’d always waited for proof before I trusted —

evidence that things were safe,

working,

headed the right way.

In a childhood ruled by unpredictability,

promises were just words.

My father, on good days,

promised beach trips and family time

that never came.

So I learned not to believe too quickly.

To listen for tone,

not words.

To brace for disappointment.

Waiting for proof became my armor —

the only way to stay steady

in a house that wasn’t.

Dyer’s line wasn’t philosophy.

It was a dare.

Trust before evidence.

Believe without guarantees.

It sounded reckless.

But something in me leaned in.

Carefulness had kept me safe —

but it had also kept me small.

So I began practicing a quieter faith.

Not religious —

just the kind that notices

when something feels right

before it makes sense.

It wasn’t magic.

It was a shift:

the slow loosening

of my white-knuckle grip

on certainty.

I began to live by The Knowing —

that quiet inner nod

when something inside says yes

before the mind can explain why.

—

The Second Star

Where Dyer gave me faith,

Covey gave me framework.

The Knowing had opened an inner compass —

but I’d just stepped into a world

of clocks

and hierarchies.

I’d been promoted into FedEx management.

Military time.

Chain of command.

PSP philosophy.

Precision

and procedure.

For someone wired by intuition,

it felt like another planet.

Covey arrived like a translator.

He showed me structure

wasn’t the enemy of intuition —

it could serve it.

His habits —

Begin with the end in mind.

Put first things first.

Seek first to understand.

became a bridge

between how I naturally moved

and how this world

required me to move.

Structure didn’t feel like confinement.

It felt like fluency —

a language I could learn

without losing myself.

With these tools,

I didn’t just survive.

I thrived.

Discipline became an act of grace —

not a cage,

but a container

that let the soul

move freely.

—

The Bridge Between

Dyer taught me to trust what I sense.

Covey taught me to act on what matters.

One turned me inward.

The other helped me

find my way out again.

Together,

they built the bridge

I still walk every day —

between belief and behavior,

intuition and discipline,

the quiet of the soul

and the motion of the world.

—

You don’t have to reinvent the wheel.

The world’s already full

of good tools —

faith,

structure,

intuition,

discipline.

Choose what feels right for you.

That’s the real art —

learning to trust

your own compass.

Listening for harmony,

Mary

—

This story lives in Compass Point 10 — How Do I Hold It All Together?

Photo by Buddha Elemental 3D on Unsplash