We wait for certainty as if it were a permission slip.
We wait for the clouds to part, the signs to align, the voice inside to whisper a clear, confident yes.
We wait until we feel ready, until we've mapped every possibility, anticipated every risk, and prepared for every outcome.
We wait for the fear to subside, for the doubts to dissolve, for the perfect conditions to emerge.
But here's the truth that most of us learn the hard way:
Certainty is rare. Clarity is earned in motion.
As Anne Lamott once wrote, "Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come." And that's what taking action often feels like: showing up in the dark with only the faintest glimmer of what might be.
Sometimes, the most courageous thing you can do is move without knowing exactly where you're going.
Not because you're reckless, but because you're alive.
Because you've stopped demanding guarantees in exchange for growth.
You don't need to be sure to take the first step.
You don't need a full map to start the journey.
You just need a little faith, a little willingness.
A little spark that says, Try anyway.
We often mistake fear for a sign to stop. But fear is not always a red flag.
Sometimes, it's a signal that you're stepping beyond the familiar.
That your nervous system is waking up to change.
That you're moving toward something unknown and therefore, something powerful.
Fear doesn't always mean "no."
Sometimes it just means, "This matters."
You don't have to roar your way forward.
You just have to whisper, "I'm willing."
Because uncertainty isn't the enemy, it's the doorway.
It means you're in between stories, the one that's ending, and the one that has yet to begin.
This liminal space, this sacred threshold, is where transformation brews.
As the mystic John O'Donohue said, "You are in this time of the interim where everything seems withheld... What is being transfigured here is your mind."
In the quiet of that in-between, something profound happens.
You begin to listen, not to the loud voices of fear and doubt, but to the quieter voice of intuition.
You begin to sense what's right, not because it's clear, but because it resonates deeply within you. You begin to trust, not that everything will go perfectly, but that you'll meet whatever comes.
You don't need a perfect plan.
You just need presence.
Presence allows you to respond, not react.
To course-correct with grace, not shame.
To remain flexible without abandoning your values.
Every brave act begins this way, with shaky hands, an unsure heart, and a willingness to start.
You don't have to wait for the fear to vanish.
You don't have to wait for the most confident version of you to show up.
You have to take fear by the hand and walk forward anyway.
"Take the first step in faith," said Martin Luther King Jr., "You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step."
Because even when you don't know exactly what's ahead, you are still capable.
Still resourceful.
Still worthy of beginning.
That's the hidden gift of uncertainty.
It doesn't limit you, it expands you.
It teaches you to stay curious, to stay awake, to stay soft amid the unknown.
So stop waiting.
For perfect conditions.
For absolute confidence.
For the fear of leaving.
You don't have to be fearless to move.
You have to move with fear in your pocket, faith in your step, and presence in your heart.
And no, certainty may never come.
But peace?
Peace comes when you realise: I can live fully, even here. And that is more than enough.