Trust your own instinct. Your mistakes might as well be your

Hear now the fierce wisdom of Billy Wilder, master of story and wit, who declared: “Trust your own instinct. Your mistakes might as well be your own, instead of someone else’s.” This is not the cry of arrogance, nor the counsel of reckless pride, but the eternal summons to walk one’s own path. For the soul that forever borrows another’s compass will never learn to navigate by the stars of its own destiny. To live without trusting your own heart is to wander as a shadow, shaped not by your own choices but by the will of others.

To trust your instinct is to honor the voice that whispers from within, the quiet guide formed by your experiences, your struggles, your very essence. It is a compass carved not in books or councils, but in the furnace of your being. If you silence it, you betray yourself. If you follow it, even into error, you grow wiser and truer. For what are mistakes but the sharp stones that shape the foot of the traveler? Each one wounds, but also toughens, until the journeyer strides with strength. Better to stumble upon your own chosen road than to march proudly along a path laid by another, only to discover it leads to emptiness.

Consider the story of Christopher Columbus, who defied the wisdom of his age. Learned men told him his dream was folly, that the seas beyond would swallow him whole. Yet he trusted his instinct, not their warnings. His voyage was perilous, marked by despair and near-mutiny, but at last it opened the way to lands unknown to his people. His mistakes were many—grave and tragic—but they were his own, born of his vision. The world was changed not by the caution of councils, but by the daring of one man who listened to his inner voice.

The ancients too cherished this teaching. Socrates walked the streets of Athens, questioned by mockery and condemned by the judges of his time. Yet he refused to betray the inner voice—the daimonion—that urged him to truth. Though it cost him his life, his fidelity to his own instinct gave birth to philosophies that outlived his city’s fleeting glories. Had he bent to the voices of others, his soul would have withered, and the world would have lost one of its greatest lights. His mistakes were his own, and through them, his legacy became eternal.

The meaning of Wilder’s words, then, is heroic and profound: you must dare to own your life. Do not cower beneath the opinions of the crowd, nor bind yourself to the safety of borrowed choices. For if you succeed, the triumph is yours, and if you fail, the lessons are yours. But if you surrender your will to others, both success and failure belong to them, and you remain but a shadow, never knowing the full measure of who you could have been.

The lesson is clear for all who hear: make your mistakes boldly, but let them be your own. Listen to counsel, but do not worship it. Weigh advice, but do not chain yourself to it. For the wisdom of others can guide, but it cannot replace the voice of your own heart. Trust yourself, and when you stumble, rise again. Each fall is a stone placed upon the foundation of your character. Each wound is a mark of authenticity, proof that you have lived as yourself, not as the echo of another.

Practical wisdom follows: when faced with a choice, do not ask merely, “What do others think?” Ask also, “What do I know in my bones to be true?” Take risks that align with your spirit, not simply with convention. Write your words, paint your vision, choose your love, follow your path—not because it is safe, but because it is yours. In doing so, you will carve a life of meaning, whether marked by triumph or trial.

Thus let Billy Wilder’s words endure in your heart: Trust your own instinct. Let your mistakes be your teachers, your scars your honor, your choices your truth. For a borrowed life, though smooth and safe, is an empty shell. But a life lived in fidelity to the inner voice—though filled with stumbles—is radiant, heroic, and wholly your own. This is the path of authenticity, and the only path worth walking.