Two instruments, two moments. One prices the decision in front of you. The other audits the journey you're already on. Where are you right now?
Nothing is saved or sent anywhere — both instruments run entirely on your screen.
Ninety seconds, three checks: how much certainty does this decision actually deserve?
A few words is enough. Naming it makes the verdict land.
Honesty correction: research shows we feel doors as heavier than they are — people pay real money to keep doors open they'll never use. Whatever your gut says, the true door is probably one rung lighter.
An open decision is a 50% you carry everywhere — and a 50% chance of pain is measurably more stressful than a 100% certainty of it.
The trap question. Can you name the specific information that's coming, and the date it arrives, that would actually change your answer? (People given half the facts feel just as informed as people given all of them.)
That the move is right, as a percentage. The gut number is the honest one.
From the Wayfinder Assessment if you've taken it, or your honest guess. Used to calculate your personal certainty tax.
Once you're moving, the instrument changes. The Threshold gets you through the door; the Bearing Check keeps you honest on the other side. Run it on a cadence — monthly for big moves.
The Certainty Threshold builds on Jeff Bezos's one-way/two-way doors and Colin Powell's 40–70 rule — credited, then extended: the threshold is set by the decision's reversibility and clock, not a fixed band or your temperament. Directional, not diagnostic.
You already walked through the door. Three questions — answer with your gut, not your résumé — tell you what the journey needs now. Question three can overrule the other two. That's by design.
The move, the role, the venture, the chapter of life.
Not "am I busy" — closer. Visible progress in meaningful work is the single biggest driver of motivation; its absence is the earliest warning light.
Goals here are waypoints you sail by, not destinations you're married to. The field research is blunt: people change course only when new information collides with their beliefs — so this question forces the collision on a schedule, before sunk cost answers it for you.
The question nobody else asks — and the tiebreaker. You can be getting closer to an unchanged goal and still be paying for it in the only currency that matters. Arrival never redeems a becoming you couldn't stand.
Cadence matters more than precision: monthly for big journeys, quarterly for steady ones. The check takes ninety seconds; drifting for a year takes a year.
If this reading surfaces a new decision — a change of role, route, or commitment — don't agonize at the new door. Price it.
The three questions are the book's framework in interrogative form: progress (make the 1-degree shifts), bearing (set the direction), becoming (build the identity). Question three holds veto power on purpose.