The World Has Changed, But We Haven’t Been Taught How to Decide

How do you make a decision in a world built on lies?

A world where the news manipulates. The schools indoctrinate. The experts deceive.

Where everything feels chaotic, uncertain, and risky, and safety is the bait they use to trap you in inaction.

How do you move forward when nothing feels stable?

I’m going to show you how to move forward in life with confidence, even when you’re not sure.

Some people are stuck because they don’t know what they want.

Others are stuck because they do know, and it seems out of reach.

But both of them are stuck for the same reason: they don’t know how to decide what to do next.

And who can blame them?

In the past, we had fewer choices. Your life path was mostly laid out for you. If you were a man, you followed your father’s trade, joined the army, or entered the church. If you were a woman, you married and became a mother, or joined the convent. The options were limited, but so was the confusion.

You chose a spouse from the people in your village, people who were raised like you, thought like you, believed like you. Choosing between them didn’t require a complex vetting process. You were surrounded by older family members who knew what made a good man or woman. You had help. You had time. And you were taught how to decide.

Today, it’s the opposite.

Unlimited options. No guidance. No shared culture. No common values.

You can date someone from across the world. You can invent a job that didn’t exist five years ago. You can change careers, countries, identities. And for the top 10 percent of people, the naturally decisive, this chaos is freedom.

But for the rest, it’s been a disaster.

The more choices we give people, the more paralyzed they become.

Billions are stuck, not because they lack opportunity, but because they don’t know how to choose.

Not in a world like this. Not when almost everything around them is a lie.

Why We’re So Afraid to Decide

We were trained in school to look for the right answer. The one correct solution at the back of the book. Get it wrong, lose the points. Get it right, win the praise.

That worked in a closed education system with clear rules. It doesn’t work in real life.

We live in a world where the news lies. The experts lie. The data is cherry-picked, the studies are funded by “special interests”, and the people who stand to gain the most from our compliance are the ones telling us what to believe. Add to that decades of broken families, misfiring instincts, and constant psychological pressure to conform, and it’s no wonder most people are frozen.

They want to be 100% sure before they act.

But they’ll never be sure.

And one reason is that they’ve never been allowed to practice.

We don’t become decisive by reading books. We become decisive by taking small risks, jumping off the low wall as a kid, wandering just out of sight of home, doing something bold in love or business or life and feeling the sting when it doesn’t go our way.

That’s how we learn the limits of our strength. That’s how we develop judgment. That’s how we calibrate our inner compass. We get bruised, not broken, and we learn.

But today’s children are raised in padded cells. No wandering. No danger. No risk. Every choice is made for them. Every failure is softened. Every victory is fake and scripted.

So when adulthood hits, with its high-stakes choices, infinite paths, and real consequences, they’re lost. Their inner world has never faced outer pressure. The muscles of risk management have never been trained.

And the whiplash breaks them.

The very moment they’re given more freedom than any generation in history… they freeze.

Because they never learned how to use it.

Not because truth is unknowable.

But because the path to truth is no longer a straight line.

How to Decide: Falsify, Don’t Justify

So here’s how we move forward:

We start by eliminating what is false.

Most people try to justify their decisions. They gather arguments, seek validation, and look for reasons that make their choice feel safe, acceptable, or popular. Justification is how we convince ourselves to act without confronting the unknown.

But justification is fragile. It depends on stories that can shift. It leads to decisions that are fragile the moment reality pushes back. Worse, it’s the path to dead ends. You’ll talk yourself into choices that trap you.

Falsification is different.

Falsification doesn’t try to build a case for why something might work. It asks: what’s clearly false? What can be ruled out with confidence?

You don’t need to know the perfect path. You just need to remove all the fake ones.

That’s the beginning of clarity.

Once you’ve stripped away the lies, what remains is a field of real options. Not guaranteed success. Not painless wins. But choices grounded in reality.

Think of it like walking down a hallway full of doors.

Some doors lead to rooms that look exciting from the outside, but inside, they’re traps. The paint is fresh, the salesman in front wears a charming smile, but the space behind the door will drain you. Exploit you. Eat your time, your energy, your soul.

When you justify, you talk yourself into walking through one of those doors. When you falsify, you slam it shut and lock it away forever.

You don’t have to know which door leads to paradise. You just have to know and avoid the ones that lead to hell.

And when you close enough of the bad doors, what remains are doors that, while uncertain, are all worth taking the risk to walk through. They might lead to different kinds of good. One may be better than another. But none of them will destroy you.

That’s the power of clarity through falsification.

It protects you from the lies that dress themselves up as opportunities.

Action Is Survival

From there, you apply your nature, your circumstances, and your responsibilities to pick which doors to enter:

What works for your personality and instincts?

What works where you are in the world, with the people around you?

What’s the risk if you act?

What’s the risk if you don’t?

What’s the reward if you succeed?

Because that’s the piece almost everyone forgets:

Doing nothing is also a decision. And it to carries risk.

When you delay, you may lose the girl. Lose the job. Lose the property. Lose your moment.

When you freeze, life doesn’t wait. The opportunity doesn’t stay on pause.

Someone else steps in. The market changes. She marries someone else.

And while you’re stuck, something else is moving.

The default state of life is not stability. It’s entropy, decay, disorder, collapse. If you’re not actively choosing, creating, or correcting course, you’re drifting. Downward.

This is the law of the Red Queen. The figure from mythology and evolutionary theory who points out that “It takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place.” If you don’t run, you fall behind. If you don’t decide, you decay.

The longer you wait to act, the more your choices rot away. The more you stagnate, the heavier the weight of indecision grows. Those who fail to choose become victims of time itself.

Decision is not just how we grow. It’s how we survive.

A Simple Method for Hard Decisions

Let me give you a method I teach my clients:

When a meaningful decision arises (not something trivial, not something immediate), here’s what you do:

Set a clear deadline for when you’ll decide. Not “someday” or “when I know.” A real date in the near future.

Set a time box—how much time and energy you’ll spend researching or weighing the choice. This should be proportional to the importance and risk.

When that time is up, ask yourself one question: Do I want this? If the answer is a clear yes, move forward. If the answer is uncertain, the answer is no. If you realize it’s not right, then discard it and be done.

This sounds overly simple. But it works.

Does that method scare you?

Good. It should, if you haven’t built trust in yourself.

The fear you feel around decision-making doesn’t come from the size or risk of the decision. It comes from the gap between where you are… and the man or woman you don’t yet believe you are.

When you don’t trust yourself, your judgment, your ability to recover, your commitment to follow through, every risk feels enormous.

But trust can be trained.

You train it by making small decisions with real consequences. You risk your time. You risk your pride. You risk your money. You see what happens, and you adjust. That loop of risk and response is how you build the confidence you were never given.

Indecision is rarely about not knowing what to do.

It’s about not believing you can handle it.

And the only cure is proof, earned in the small struggles of daily life.

Because when you get a clear yes, it’s not because you’ve found the perfect option. It’s because, based on everything you’ve uncovered, the risk feels worth it for the potential reward and you trust yourself enough to make it work.

When you’re choosing between multiple paths, you pick the one that most closely aligns with your objectives. Sometimes that means choosing the higher risk for the greater reward. Other times, it means choosing the slower path with more safety. But either way, you choose.

You don’t wait for perfect. You don’t wait for total clarity. You weigh the risk, check your alignment, and you act.

Because clarity exists on the far side of commitment. And most people never make it that far.

They cycle endlessly, hoping to feel perfect before they act.

You won’t. That’s the point.

You choose anyway.

Building Fast Instincts: The OODA Loop

Now let’s talk about faster decisions. The everyday gut calls. The moment-to-moment action steps that don’t give you time to pause.

This is where you train your instincts.

You do that through the OODA loop: Observe, Orient, Decide, Act.

It’s a mental reflex system developed by fighter pilots. It teaches you to move fast without being reckless.

Observe the facts of the situation.

Orient to them based on what you care about.

Decide what action supports your goals.

Act—and learn from the result.

Each time you go through the loop, your instincts sharpen.

You start trusting yourself. You build internal speed. You stop outsourcing every decision to a spreadsheet or an influencer.

What It Looks Like in Real Life

Client #1: The High-Performing Perfectionist

He’s fit. Smart. Charismatic. Responsible. The kind of man who turns everything he touches into a win.

He works in a field where mistakes kill people. Engineering. Aviation. Medicine. High stakes. High accuracy.

And it works, at work.

But when it comes to women, it breaks him.

He dates women who love him. He gets into deep, meaningful relationships. And every time, just before it turns into marriage, he freezes.

“What if she’s not the one?” “What if I regret it?” “What if she changes?”

He wants guarantees. He wants proof. He wants certainty in a realm where certainty doesn’t exist.

What he doesn’t realize is this:

Marriage is not about choosing the perfect person. It’s about choosing someone who wants to become perfect for you, and you for her.

It’s about commitment first, then co-creation.

He was trying to optimize something that can only be chosen. And until he stops trying to think his way to love and peace, he’ll keep walking away from what could have been good enough to grow into great.

Client #2: The Lost Daughter

She’s smart. She’s capable. She’s surrounded by people who care.

But when I asked her what she wanted from life, she had no idea.

Not because she had no desires. But because every desire she had had been overwritten by other peoples expectations.

Her instincts told her to marry young and raise children. Her heart longed for love, safety, beauty and peace in a home of her own.

But school councillors told her to build a career. Her parents told her to make money. Her peers told her to chase titles, buy expensive things and travel.

So she found herself paralyzed. Not because she didn’t care, but because she cared too much about disappointing the wrong people.

The truth was simple. She didn’t need to decide based on fake options. She needed to remember what was already true about her. Her natural drives towards the domestic life.

And once she did, her future opened like a door she’d been leaning against for years. Deciding became easy.

Client #3: The Isolated Brother

He wanted to build something. A cooperative. A group of young men who’d pool money, buy property, and live with strength and dignity.

But he couldn’t find the men.

“I don’t trust anyone,” he said. “Everyone flakes.” “What if they screw me over?”

His dream was good. His fear was accurate. But his method was wrong.

He wanted to leap into a 10-man investment group without ever having built a 2-man friendship.

He wanted the reward without learning the risk curve.

So I taught him to start small:

Share a task with one man.

Share money with one man.

Vet. Watch. Adjust.

Repeat.

You don’t build trust by demanding guarantees. You build it by testing for truth, over and over, with increasing stakes.

That’s how competence grows. That’s how cooperation grows. That’s how the future is built.

The point is this:

You can’t wait for the world to give you certainty. You have to become the kind of person who doesn’t need it.

You eliminate what’s false. You learn how to vet. You develop risk competence. You build small loops of investment, with people, ideas, paths. You train your instincts. You move.

And when you don’t know what to do, ask yourself:

What’s fake?

What’s natural?

What’s healthy?

What’s the cost of staying here?

What do I want in life?

Then act.

Even a small act is better than the illusion of perfect inaction.

And if you get stuck, talk to me.

I’ll help you decide.

The future belongs to those who move.

Move.