Imagine if a butterfly thought like a human.
“First, I’ll land on the tulip at 9:00 AM. By 9:30, my plan is to sip from the lavender. Then I’ll take a strategic detour toward the dandelions before circling back for a networking session with the marigolds.”
Or worse—it would obsess: “Should I start with the lavender? But what if the tulip is better? And what’s my Plan B if the daisies don’t bloom? What if another butterfly gets to the good flower first?”
It would spend so much time thinking, planning, and worrying . . . it would forget to fly.
Of course, butterflies don’t act like this. They’re not fixated on safety. They don’t worry about scarcity. They don’t sit on a flower stressing about the next one.
They taste, explore, delight.
And when it’s time to move on, they move—trusting there’s more where that came from.
Humans, on the other hand, default to a different kind of navigation. We make decisions based on what feels safe, instead of what feels sweet. We stick to the “safe” job. We stay in relationships that “make sense.” And with every “sensible” choice, we give away a little piece of our soul.
I know that trap. I’ve fallen into it more times than I can count.
And yet, every time my life has expanded—every time it’s cracked open into something wilder, richer, more aligned—it’s because I let curiosity pull me instead of fear push me.
I call this “following the nectar.”
The nectar isn’t the plan. It’s the pulse.
It doesn’t speak in logical terms. It doesn’t display safety warnings or estimated arrival times.
It just whispers: “That looks interesting. Let’s go there.”
It’s the thing that brings you alive, even if you can’t explain why. A sudden impulse to create. A belly laugh. A stray sentence in a book that lights up your insides. A conversation that buzzes with aliveness.
That’s nectar.
It usually doesn’t make sense on paper. It often looks risky. But it’s never empty. And it almost always takes you somewhere you couldn’t have planned for—but needed to go.
Every time I follow the nectar instead of fear, something shifts. The outcomes I once chased—book deals, speaking invitations, creative flow—start arriving on their own. Not because I push harder, but because I’m alive in the work. And that draws the right people in.
So if you’re standing at yet another crossroads, trying to strategize your next move…
Don’t ask, What makes sense?
Instead, ask, Where’s the nectar?
And then—just like the butterfly—follow the nectar.
Not with a PowerPoint. Not with a parachute.
Just with trust. With wonder. With wings you may not even know you have.
You don’t need to see the whole path.
Just follow what glows.
The rest will meet you there.
P.S. One of the nectars I’ve been following lately is teaching people how to use AI in ways that fuel—rather than flatten—their creativity.
If that sparks something for you, I created a free masterclass where I share 5 ways to turn AI into a creative partner that not only boosts your ideas—but saves you 10+ hours a week. I’ll also show you how to get limited-time access to my online course, The AI Advantage.
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