There is a part of us that longs for certainty.
The plan. The checklist. The five-year timeline is where everything unfolds just as it should. We crave the comfort of knowing exactly what’s next, of being able to draw a straight line from where we are to where we want to be.
But life rarely offers us that kind of clarity.
More often, we are handed a foggy path. A faint direction. A tug in the chest that says, This way, without promising what’s waiting at the end.
And that uncertainty can feel unbearable.
Because it means we can’t predict. Can’t control. Can’t guarantee that our efforts will work out. It means we have to make decisions with incomplete information. To move without knowing what’s around the corner.
And yet, that’s where so much of life happens.
In the fog.
In the in-between.
In the space after something ends but before something else begins.
We often think of uncertainty as the enemy. As a problem to solve. But it isn’t.
It’s a companion on the path of becoming.
When we let go of needing to know everything, something else opens up possibilities. Creativity. Flexibility. A deeper trust in our own inner compass, rather than waiting for the map.
Because sometimes the map doesn’t exist.
Sometimes you are writing it as you go.
“You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards.” - Steve Jobs.
It’s true.
We want to see how it all fits together before we take the first step. But that’s not how growth works. Growth asks you to begin anyway. To walk into the unknown. To build the bridge while crossing it.
That’s not recklessness. That’s courage.
And it doesn’t have to be big.
It can look like applying for the job even if you’re not 100% ready.
Starting the project even if the outcome isn’t guaranteed.
Speaking the truth, even if you’re not sure how it will be received.
The people we admire for their boldness? They were uncertain, too. They just decided not to wait for the fear to leave before they moved.
Uncertainty is a teacher, if we let it be.
It teaches us how to listen inward. How to stay curious. How to respond, not just react.
It teaches us that we are more adaptable than we imagined.
That we can hold space for not knowing and still take action from love, from values, from instinct.
It teaches us how to stay awake to life as it is, not just as we wish it to be.
The truth is: control is often an illusion.
We don’t control the timing. We don’t control other people. We don’t control the outcome.
But we do control how we show up. What we choose. What we pay attention to. What we plant.
And the more we practice living without a map, the more we realise we’re okay.
We’re still standing.
We’re still learning.
We’re still creating something meaningful in the middle of the unknown.
So if you’re walking through a foggy season, know this: you’re not alone.
Many of the most beautiful paths are found that way by feel, not by formula.
You don’t have to have it all figured out.
You just have to take the next kind step.
And trust that the road will rise to meet you.
Thank you for reading. Your time and attention mean everything. This essay is free, but you can always buy me coffee or visit my shop to support my work. For more thoughts and short notes, please find me on Instagram.