I have a feeling, one of those gut feelings, that I'll make

Hear now the words of Paul Thomas Anderson, the maker of visions and the weaver of moving images: “I have a feeling, one of those gut feelings, that I’ll make pretty good movies the rest of my life.” This is no boastful cry, nor idle prophecy, but the quiet fire of a man certain of his path. In this simple yet profound statement lies the essence of faith—not blind faith in fortune, but a trust born deep within, a trust in the gut feeling that guides the soul when reason falters.

The meaning of his words runs deeper than cinema alone. To say “I’ll make pretty good movies the rest of my life” is to declare confidence not in a single triumph, but in the enduring flame of creativity. Anderson speaks of lifelong dedication, of an art not as a fleeting pursuit but as a covenant with himself and with his craft. The gut feeling is not arrogance, but instinct, that primal voice which whispers to every creator: continue, for this is your path.

The ancients knew this voice well. Consider the story of Homer, who, though blind, saw the battles of Troy and the wanderings of Odysseus with a clarity unmatched. Who told him these tales? Not his eyes, but his inner vision, his feeling that he was destined to sing the songs of heroes. And he obeyed that feeling, shaping words that still resound through the ages. Just so does Anderson’s confidence echo the eternal truth: the artist’s worth is measured not by fleeting applause, but by the faithful following of one’s inner compass.

Think too of Leonardo da Vinci, who, with brush and chisel, with pen and mind, touched every field of human wonder. He could not have known in advance the reach of his works, yet he trusted his instinct, pursued his fascinations, and left behind marvels that no generation could erase. His life proves the same wisdom Anderson embodies: that when a person listens to the gut feeling within, the work they produce carries the stamp of destiny.

What, then, is the lesson for us who hear these words? It is that each soul carries within it a quiet voice, sometimes drowned by fear, sometimes mocked by doubt, but always waiting. This voice is not reason alone, nor is it mere whim; it is the sum of all that we are—our talents, our desires, our hidden courage—woven into one unshakable instinct. To ignore it is to drift like a ship without a rudder. To follow it is to set sail upon the true course of our lives.

Practical wisdom follows: pause in your own journey and ask yourself, what do I feel in my depths? Not what others tell you, not what the world demands, but what your soul insists you were born to do. Then act upon it. If you feel you are called to teach, then teach with fire. If to build, then build with patience. If to create, then create with faith. Do not wait for perfect assurance; the gut feeling itself is enough to begin.

So let us honor Anderson’s words, not as the musings of a filmmaker alone, but as the timeless creed of every creator, every dreamer, every seeker. For to live by instinct joined with dedication is to ensure that the works of our hands, whether seen by millions or only a few, shall be “pretty good” not merely in craft, but in truth, in courage, and in the mark they leave upon the world.

Thus, remember: the noblest achievements of man are born not from certainty, but from the willingness to trust the unseen compass within. Follow your feeling, as Anderson followed his, and the rest of your life shall bear fruit worthy of remembrance.