Stop Leaving Yourself to Chance
- Dave Lundberg
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read

Most of us leave too much to chance.
Not intentionally.
We don’t wake up and decide to drift through the day disconnected from ourselves. We don’t choose to hand our sense of direction over to whatever happens around us.
But it happens.
Somewhat organically.
Maybe we were never really taught how to be creators of our own lives.
So we move through our days reacting to what shows up: the pressure of the moment, the needs of someone else, the mood of a room, the story we tell ourselves after something goes well, or doesn’t.
And somewhere in that daily movement, we stop listening.
Not because there is something wrong with us.
Maybe we are just missing an important piece of awareness.
We stop listening to the deeper movement inside us.
And I think most of us know what that feels like and have experienced it.
It can show up as hesitation. A pull. A knowing. A quiet sense that something is aligned, or not aligned.
Something inside us is speaking.
But we don’t always know what to do with that voice.
So we override it.
We explain it away, look outside ourselves for confirmation that the voice is wrong, or let circumstance decide what matters. We hold back.
And then, when things don’t work out, we chalk it up to failure and say, “See, it was never meant to be that way.”
Or even worse, we start interpreting what the world is telling us about ourselves.
That we are not capable.
That we asked for too much.
That this is just how life works.
That maybe we should stop wanting that thing.
But maybe that is the old idea we need to throw out.
The problem may not be that we wanted too much.
It may be that we never fully oriented ourselves around what we wanted in the first place.
This is not about becoming hyper-focused on every internal feeling. And it is not about manifesting in some loose, vague way.
This is about clearly organizing your internal landscape so it can support the life you are trying to build.
Some thoughts are just thoughts. Some emotions need attention but not direction. Some instincts are useful, and some are old protective patterns trying to run the show.
So no, this is not about blindly following every internal signal.
But there is something powerful about organizing your life around a clear internal system: values you can name, grounded beliefs you actually stand behind, and a sense of what you are here to create, protect, practise, and become.
Not as a rigid plan.
As an orientation.
Something you can return to when the outside world gets loud. Something that can hold steady when pressure starts to build.
Maybe we can think of it as a set of agreements with ourselves.
Not rules.
Agreements.
A way of saying: this is what matters to me, and this is the direction I want to keep returning to.
The work here is to get honest about when you’re not listening.
Not in a harsh way or judgmental way.
Just honestly.
It means noticing where you are drifting, where you are reacting, where other people’s expectations have started shaping your choices, and where you are waiting for permission from a world that may never give it to you.
And maybe the harder question is this:
Have you actually defined what you want?
That question can bring up a lot.
For some people, wanting feels dangerous. It can expose and make some feel vulnerable.
Naming it clearly can feel risky. What if you don’t get it? What if you’re not worthy of it? What if you choose wrong? What if you become trapped by the thing you said you wanted?
We have all heard some version of, “Be careful what you wish for.”
And maybe that phrase has done more harm than good.
Because wanting something clearly does not imprison us. It does the opposite. It creates possibility.
It gives us something to work with.
Something we can reorient to.
That may be one of the most beautiful parts of being human.
We are not locked into who we were yesterday, and we are not required to keep living from old beliefs. We are allowed to notice when something no longer fits.
And we are allowed to change.
Of course, change can be hard.
It can be layered and slow. It can ask us to seek support. It can mean untangling years of patterns that once made sense.
But change does not always begin by adding something new.
Sometimes it begins by going back inside and rediscovering what was already there. Reorienting around what still matters. Redistributing your energy toward what you actually want. Tweaking the internal system so your thoughts, behaviours, and actions more honestly align with the life you are trying to build.
This is the pause.
Not to escape the world.
But to remember it is not the only thing shaping you.
There will always be things outside your control. Other people’s choices. Timing. Outcomes you didn’t expect.
That part doesn’t change.
What does change is where you place your energy.
You can keep chasing what you can’t control.
Or you can come back to what you can influence.
Your attention.
Your direction.
What you choose to practice.
What agreement you return to when you drift.
Because a life built only on chance leaves you constantly interpreting outcomes instead of choosing direction.
In a simple way, it is just listen inwards, clarify what matters and focus your energy there.
And when you drift, because you will, come back.
Not with shame.
Just with a clearer sense of what matters.
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