It Isn’t Confusion. It’s Exhaustion.
In October of 2024 I set up a jeweller’s bench.
Not as a hobby. As a business — Jim’s Jewelry by Design. I made pieces people could hold while they were thinking: beads, knots, things with a weight to them. I bought the tools, learned the techniques, took the orders, did the books.
In May of this year I closed it.
I closed it because I did not have the time to do everything I needed to do. The writing and the coaching mattered more. They had to take center stage, and something had to go.
That is the tidy version. The honest one is less flattering. I am an Eight on the Enneagram, and here is what an Eight does: if I see something shiny lying in the sand, I rush over, pick it up, and turn it into a business. I have done it my whole life. A pest control company. A bread store. A jewellery bench. Each time the thing itself was real and worth doing. Each time the picking-up was automatic.
My focus is narrowing now, the way it does as you get older. And by the spring I was exhausted from keeping all the balls in the air.
That last word is what this post is about.
The thing we call confusion usually isn’t
I came across a piece recently by Cameron Trimble, a pastor and author, in Richard Rohr’s daily meditations from the Center for Action and Contemplation. She makes a distinction I have not stopped thinking about.
When people say they do not know what to do, they describe it as confusion. But confusion means you are missing information. Most of the time, she argues, what people are carrying is exhaustion — holding more than any one person should be holding.
Those two feel identical from the inside. They are not the same problem.
If it is confusion, more information helps. Get the numbers. Talk to someone who has done it.
If it is exhaustion, more information makes it worse. You are not short of input. You are overloaded, and every new consideration is one more thing to carry while you try to think.
I spent most of 2025 treating an exhaustion problem as a confusion problem. I read more, asked more people, made more lists about the bench — margins, time per piece, what it would take to make it work. I was very busy being thorough. None of it touched the actual thing, because the actual thing was that I had too much in my hands and no way to put any of it down.
The question was never is this a good business. It was how many things can one man in his seventies actually carry. No amount of research answers that one.
William James saw this in 1902

There is a passage in The Varieties of Religious Experience that I keep returning to, and it is not the one people usually quote.
James describes what he calls the field of consciousness — everything present to you at a given moment. It has a centre of interest, and around that centre the rest fades out to a margin “so faint that its limits are unassignable.” He compares it to a magnetic field, “inside of which our centre of energy turns like a compass-needle.”
Then he says this: “At other times, of drowsiness, illness, or fatigue, our fields may narrow almost to a point.”
Fatigue narrows the field. Not age, not weakness of character — fatigue. A tired person is not seeing less because they have become less; they are seeing less because the field itself has contracted, and from inside a contracted field there is no way to tell that anything is missing.
That is the whole trap. The exhausted person experiences their exhaustion as a failure of clarity, and reaches for more information — which requires more field, which they do not have.
Deciding and discerning are different jobs
Trimble’s second distinction is the one I had been circling for years without naming cleanly.
Deciding operates on a set of options. Someone has put three things on the table and your job is to pick the best one. Business is very good at this. There are frameworks, matrices, and people who will charge you a great deal to improve your hit rate.
Discerning happens before any of that. It asks whether the table is yours.
Here is why the difference costs money. A person who decides well clears options off the table quickly and confidently. That is a real strength. It is also exactly how you end up two years into something you never chose — because nobody asked whether they were the right options, and the speed of the deciding disguised the absence of the asking.
An Eight picking up something shiny from the sand is deciding, and deciding well. The business will probably work. The question nobody asks at that moment is whether it was his to pick up.
Trimble’s word for what people are actually after is attunement rather than certainty. Flatter version: most people chasing certainty want a guarantee about the outcome. What is available is a better read on what the situation is asking of you. Different purchases, and only one of them is for sale.
The in-between is not wasted time
One more thing from her piece — a reframe of a very old story.
A people leave one place and spend a long stretch in the desert before arriving anywhere. The usual reading of that stretch is dead time: a gap between the real chapters, to be endured.
The rabbinic reading she points to is the opposite. The time in between is not the delay before the thing happens. It is where they stopped being one kind of people and became another. They walked in carrying the habits of the place they had left — fear, scarcity, waiting to be told. Changing their location was the easy part. Changing that is what the years were for.
Out of the desert and into an ordinary working life: a transition is not the empty bit between two chapters. It is where you get re-made. Spend it entirely on getting out of it and you arrive as the same person who went in, which is generally how people make the same mistake in a new setting.
I have done that. Twice, at least.
And in that story nobody gets a map. They get a day’s food at a time — enough for today, nothing banked, no visibility past tomorrow. Her point, and mine: that is not a failure of provision. It is a description of how this works. You get enough for the next step, and the next step is enough.
For anyone who plans for a living that is uncomfortable. I ran a company for thirty-eight years on five-year horizons. But look at what the alternative demands: before you can act, you need a picture of an outcome several years out that nobody can honestly give you — and while you wait for it you do nothing, and call the nothing prudence.
What Insight actually is
This is the third domain of spiritual emotional intelligence, and the first two did the groundwork.
Awareness established that your own account of yourself is unreliable. Belonging asked who you are actually among, and whether a person can be among you with nothing to offer.
Insight is what becomes possible once those are in place. Not choose better between the things in front of me. Something narrower: work out which of them is mine.
Three questions, in order. Ten minutes.
One. Is this confusion or exhaustion? If you cannot name three specific facts you are missing, it is exhaustion. Stop researching. Your field has narrowed and no amount of reading will widen it.
Two. Who put these options on the table? If it is anyone but you, you are deciding rather than discerning, and the real work is upstream of the choice you think you are making.
Three. What is the next step, as against the plan? Not the strategy. The one thing you could do this week that you would not regret however the rest turns out.
That third question is most of it. Most people can answer it immediately and then refuse to act on it, because it feels too small to be the answer.
It is the answer. It is just small.
The bench
I still have it.
I have not decided what it is yet — whether it becomes a practice without being a business, or goes to someone who will use it better than I did. And for the first time in my life, not knowing by the end of the month does not feel like a failure of planning.
Enough for the next step turns out to be enough.
Post 3 of 3 on the domains of spiritual emotional intelligence. Part 1: The Last One to Know — Awareness. Part 2: What Do You Need First? — Belonging.
Peace and every good.
A companion workbook for this post: Is This Mine to Carry? (PDF).
About Jim & Dr. Lynette Vaive
Jim and Dr. Lynette Vaive are the co-founders of Spirit of EQ and co-authors of The Mystical Seeker. Jim is a Master Certified Coach and Lynette a Professional Certified Coach; both are certified Narrative Enneagram teachers and Certified Spiritual Directors. Together they hold credentials in Spiritual Emotional Intelligence (SEQ) — a framework rooted in Lynette’s Doctor of Ministry research — and serve individuals, small groups, and organizations across faith traditions. Learn more at spiritofeq.com.
Sources and credits
The distinctions between confusion and exhaustion, deciding and discerning, and the reading of the wilderness years are drawn from a piece by Cameron Trimble, pastor and author, published in the Center for Action and Contemplation’s Daily Meditations (Richard Rohr). The applications to business and to my own decisions are mine, not hers.
William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience (1902), Lecture X. The passage on the field of consciousness and its narrowing “at other times, of drowsiness, illness, or fatigue” is quoted from that lecture.










