One of my biggest struggles as a wise, intelligent, insightful, aware, caring, loving, experienced kickass adult, is to shut my big mouth before advice, counsel, and strategies topple out in the “AARGH, Matey!” of hearty intention, burying those I love in words as worthless as a chest of gold doubloons.

I know it’s human nature to give advice to people struggling – and sometimes the right words can be very healing. But in my experience, “advice” is a way to minimize ones own anxiety about treading in murky waters. We give advice either because we are not really present to the other person and are thinking about our own experience — assuming our experience is the same (it’s not); or we are entirely uncomfortable sitting with another’s pain; it hurts, it’s too big, it shivers our timbers and we want to steal it away from the ones we care about in all haste. Sometimes we make “the problem” the enemy and force it to walk the plank; other times we minimize the weight of it, and try to pack it all up and stow it efficiently away. In either case, we hope to move on swiftly in one blustery, sweeping, well-winded narrative.

But whether we rush in out of love or mindless habit or because we’ve been there, too, it can be a very dangerous adventure to embark upon. Rushing in to fix is a great way to imprint our own map of the world directly over the tiny, emerging text and lines of another’s discoveries. It’s a great way to eclipse any light that may be dawning over shadowy territory; a sure path directly toward the raging waters of misunderstanding; and of course, a proven way to completely halt another’s journey to whole new worlds.

It’s piracy, is what it is. It steals the very treasure from the depths of one’s unique experience. And while the sound of our own brilliant advice may leave us swaggering in our puffy shirts feeling like we are captain oh captain of all we purvey, the person we love is left kidnapped, stunned and lashed to the mast – and sometimes, deeply hurt by our ill-gotten gain. And they aren’t the only ones who suffer.

When we rush in to fix or rescue, we ourselves can end up lost at sea. We end up circling the same exact waters all of our days, living with nothing but our own ghostly bones of decay. Because stealing another’s story ironically leaves you no room to move forward from your own — if you don’t bear witness to the journey unfolding before you, nothing new can refresh you. You are stuck living the same old storyline, wandering for all eternity in the same old tatters, telling the same old salty tales, to the same old sorry shipmates.

I think the human soul was meant to be witnessed, not rescued. I think it was meant to be discovered, not kidnapped. I think it was meant to be seen, not buried. I think our souls are like the sea, the horizon, the stars. They are already beautiful — they just need to be noticed! Small, navigational suggestions can be useful, yes. But don’t go overboard. Bear witness to the great and creaking adventure before you; become a reflection that moves alongside, a vessel for knowing, a safe passage to new worlds. Witness those you love navigate their way to new understanding, and you’ll find a new way to navigate to love.