50 Thoughts: Heart Over Mind (Reflection 1)

Fifty. It’s a big number, isn't it? As I sit here at my desk, the light catching the steam rising from my mug, I’m realizing that I’m standing on the threshold of a whole new decade. There’s something about approaching fifty that makes you want to stop, look back, and really sift through the luggage you’ve been carrying. Some of it needs to be unpacked, some of it needs to be tossed, and some of it needs to be polished until it shines.

But if I’m being honest, it’s more than “luggage.” It’s a full-on life review.

I’m trying to determine as I review my life what I want out of it before I leave this plane. And saying it like that makes me feel exposed. Dramatic, maybe. But also… real. Because fifty isn’t just a birthday. It’s a marker that time is actually happening.

This is the first of fifty reflections I’ll be sharing as I count down to my 50th birthday. I’m calling them my "50 Thoughts." They aren't lectures or clinical advice—I’ve spent plenty of time in those worlds. Instead, think of these as letters from my heart to yours. I want to take you behind the scenes of my own soul journey, my writing process as I bring my fantasy world to life as Evangeline Sol, and the simple, quiet moments that make up a life.

And today, the question underneath all my questions is simple:

How can I tell what my heart truly wants when my mind takes over?

When the Mind Becomes the Leading Actor

If you’re anything like me, your mind is a world-class storyteller. It’s fast, it’s efficient, and it is incredibly loud. My mind loves to take a tiny seed of a situation—maybe a missed text or a project that didn’t go quite right—and grow a whole forest of "what-ifs" around it. Within minutes, I’ve written a three-act tragedy where everything is falling apart.

And lately I’ve been noticing something that feels… tender to admit:

My mind doesn’t just commentate on my life sometimes. It tries to star in it.

It wants top billing. It wants the script. It wants the final edit. It wants to be the one calling "CUT!" any time something feels uncertain.

As I get closer to fifty, I’m realizing how long I’ve let that happen. How often I’ve chosen what’s “smart,” what’s “responsible,” what makes sense on paper—while something quieter in me is like, Hello? I’m down here.

Because the mind isn’t evil. It’s protective. It analyzes, it judges, it plans, it tries to keep us from getting hurt. But it also gets loud. And when it’s loud, it can drown out everything meaningful.

So this is the question I’m sitting with as I approach 50:

How can I tell what my heart truly wants when my mind takes over?

Because my mind is basically yelling into a microphone. And my heart—if it’s speaking at all—feels like it’s trying to talk from another room.

Hearing the Heart Under All That Noise

I’m not trying to become a person who ignores logic. I like logic. Logic has helped me build a life, raise kids, keep commitments, and (let’s be honest) meet deadlines.

But I’m starting to see that “mind-led” has become my default setting. And when I live that way for too long, life gets technically “fine”… but it feels flat. Like I’m doing life instead of being in it.

Even with my writing—building the world of Evangeline Sol—I can feel it instantly.

If I’m writing from my mind, the prose gets stiff. I’m counting words, hunting plot holes, thinking ten steps ahead. But when I drop down into my heart, the characters start to breathe. They surprise me. They tell the truth. The scene has a pulse.

And that’s what I want for this next decade. A life with a pulse.

So here’s another question I keep coming back to, especially now that I’ve lived more than half my life:

What is actually meaningful to experience now?

Not what I can justify. Not what looks impressive. Not what I can “optimize.” I mean the stuff that turns into memories. The kind you can feel in your chest when you look back—because you were there, fully there.

I don’t want to just maintain. I don’t want to just manage. I want to live.

And I think that’s the part that scares my mind the most—because living is messy. It doesn’t fit neatly on a calendar. It can’t always be defended with a spreadsheet or a “good reason.” Sometimes it’s just this quiet inner knowing that says, This matters. Do it anyway.

I don’t have clean answers yet. But I do know this: the heart doesn’t usually shout. It nudges. It whispers. It shows up as a quiet yes… or a heavy no… or that strange ache you can’t explain but can’t ignore either.

And I’m learning that if I want my heart to lead, I have to stop handing the microphone to my mind all day long.

The Practice of Softening

So, how do we actually do this? Especially when the world feels loud and our to-do lists are miles long?

It starts with a simple "softening." When the mind starts to spiral, the body usually follows suit. Your shoulders creep up toward your ears. Your chest tightens. You might even hold your breath without realizing it.

The first step in choosing the heart is to physically soften. Drop your shoulders. Take a breath that actually reaches your belly. This physical shift signals to your brain that you aren't in immediate danger. It creates a tiny bit of space between you and your thoughts.

Once you’ve softened, you can "be-with" whatever is happening. Instead of trying to fix the thought or argue with the mind, just notice it. "Oh, there’s that story again. My mind is really worried about tomorrow." And then, gently, bring your focus back to your heart center. Imagine a warm light there, or just feel the physical sensation of your breath in your chest.

The Digital Hearth and the Soul Journey

In this season of my life, I’m finding so much peace in the "Digital Hearth" I’ve been building. For me, that means creating an atmosphere that supports the heart. It’s the soft lighting in my office, the specific playlist that feels like a hug, and the commitment to showing up as I am, not as I think I "should" be.

It sounds small, but it’s not. It’s how I remember to come back to myself.

Because when I’m in “life review mode,” my brain wants to turn everything into a problem to solve: What should I focus on? What should I fix? What should I have done differently? What should I do next so I don’t regret it later?

And I’m trying to live differently in this last season. I’m trying to create days that feel like something. Days that become memories. Days I’ll be glad I lived.

When I lead with the heart, I can admit what I actually want: meaningful experiences. Connection that’s real. Creativity that feels alive. Space to breathe. A life that isn’t just productive, but present.

The mind hates that—it wants certainty. But the heart is comfortable with the unknown. The heart just wants me to be here for it.

The Narrative is Shifting

As I look at the reflections ahead, I realize how much of my life has been spent trying to "mind" my way through problems. I thought if I just thought hard enough, or planned well enough, I could avoid disappointment or pain. But the heart knows better. The heart knows that pain is part of the story, and disappointment is just a sign that we cared about something.

And right now, I’m not even trying to solve anything. I’m trying to listen.

I’m trying to determine as I review my life what I want out of it before I leave this plane—and I keep running into the same wall: my mind takes over. It gets loud. It gets persuasive. It tells me what’s practical. It tells me what’s safe. It tells me what other people will understand.

But what I want to know is this:

How can I tell what my heart truly wants when my mind takes over?

Because I don’t want to reach the end and realize I spent this “last season” managing my life instead of living it. I want meaningful experiences. I want to make memories I can feel. I want to be able to say I showed up—imperfectly, bravely, and all the way.

For now, I’m holding that question gently. Not forcing an answer. Just making room for it.

With love,

Ang