Born knowing the way

Ever seen turtles hatching? 

If you haven’t, make a point of being right there on our sandy shores when this quiet miracle plays out. Tiny turtles, no bigger than a child’s palm, erupt from the darkness of their buried nests. They have never seen the world before, yet they know exactly what to do. In frantic unison, they scuttle towards the sea—drawn by glimmers on the horizon, the downward slope of the sand, the pull of waves. Predators are waiting, and many won’t make it. But the race is on, urgent and unhesitating.

What feels like chaos is really ancient choreography. Light, slope, surf, even the earth’s magnetic field—all combine to whisper the same instruction: go to the water, now. It’s a primal dash coded across millennia, giving fragile new lives a chance in the vastness. To watch it is to be reminded: nature wastes nothing, and when the moment comes, hesitation is death. The turtles don’t pause to ask why. They just move, together, towards survival.

When they finally hit the water, they are suddenly in their element: quick, elegant, utterly at ease. Even from that first “frenzy swim,” they begin imprinting the geomagnetic signature of their natal beach, which helps them navigate back decades later to lay their own eggs.

Nature is truly amazing. And it governs human life as well—but we bury our instincts under the dead weight of overthinking.

When the hatchlings burst from their nests, they don’t hold a meeting or conduct a risk analysis. They just run. Their primeval code kicks in, telling them that hesitation is death and motion is life. We carry our own deep coding, too—curiosity, resilience, connection—but we bury it under layers of doubt and hesitation. We stall when we should dash. We second-guess when we should lean into instinct.

The little turtles remind us of the power of urgency. They don’t pause to calculate the odds of survival; they know they must go, now. Humans are masters of dithering—what if this, what if that? The truth is, you never get to know the odds in advance. You move, or you don’t. And not moving is its own kind of slow death.

There’s also something joyful in that scramble across the sand. It’s frantic, yes, but also full of gusto and energy. The hatchlings embrace life in all its peril. We could learn something here: that the fullness of life comes not from avoiding risk but from entering the waves, heart pounding, spirit alive.

And yes, many don’t make it. Setbacks and losses are woven into the design. Yet the species endures, because enough turtles persist in the dash. Our lives, too, are full of bruises and reversals. But persistence is the code. When we move together, when we keep going despite the dangers, we echo that ancient choreography—and give ourselves a real shot at thriving.

The lesson is stark but beautiful: life isn’t won by waiting for guarantees, it’s claimed by those who move. Our deepest instincts already know this. Trust the code. Step out of the nest. Run at life with urgency and heart—and let the waves carry you forward.

THE SIGNAL IN THE NOISE

To be alive is to risk, to stumble, to swim anyway. The ocean doesn’t wait for the hesitant.

Buy Sunny Bindra's new book
The X in CX
here »