The Beauty of Not Knowing Yet

Editor’s note: This is written from my current vantage point

Welcome back, curious minds and kind hearts, to next chapter in the Think Again series, where we’re exploring the power of curiosity and alignment by questioning old assumptions, embracing uncertainty, trusting ourselves, and letting go of what no longer fits so we can become more like ourselves.

If you missed chapter 1, When I Stopped Explaining, it explores a moment that challenged the way I viewed communication, understanding, and myself. So, I encourage you to start there before continuing.

What if not knowing isn’t a setback? What if it’s an invitation?

For a long time, I thought adults had all the answers. As if somewhere along the way they were handed a guidebook on how to navigate life’s series of unfortunate events, detours, and mistakes. Because most people I knew seemed to know exactly where they were headed, who they wanted to become, and what steps it would take to get there. They had career plans, five-year goals, and a clear sense of direction.

Therefore, I thought I had to do the same.

I believed that not knowing what came next meant I was behind. If I couldn’t see the path ahead, I assumed I had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Upon looking back, I realize I wasn’t afraid of uncertainty itself, I was afraid of what I believed it said about me.

To me, not having everything planned out meant I didn’t know where I was going or what I wanted. I felt like everyone around me had life all figured out while I was still searching for answers.

And I wonder how many of us mistake uncertainty for failure simply because we’ve been taught that having a plan is the same as making progress.

Anyway, the more I tried to predict my life, the less present I was in it. I became caught up in trying to solve tomorrow that I forgot to experience today. Meanwhile, the more I looked ahead, the more tension I felt. And the more I searched for certainty, the more unsure and indecisive I became.

That way of thinking followed me for years. That was until one simple habit slowly began to change my perspective.

It was when I started taking long walks.

Not just any walks, but long early morning walks. No matter the weather, I’d head outside before the world had fully woken up, often just in time to catch the sunrise. Before long, those mornings began to wake me up more than coffee ever could.

At first, I walked to clear my head. I hoped the fresh air would quiet the constant stream of thoughts and bring a little clarity. But over time, something unexpected happened.

I stopped trying to understand everything. I stopped replaying every “what if”.

Instead, I started paying attention to the next step. I challenged myself to walk a little further, explore a new trail, pause when something beautiful caught my attention, and trust my instincts about where to go next.

Some mornings I’d stop by the water and notice how perfectly calm it was. Often wishing I could stay there all day, simply taking it all in from the sunrise to the stillness to the sound of nature waking up because it reminded me that not everything had to be rushed.

Almost instantaneously, I felt like I no longer had to have every answer before moving forward. I became more comfortable trying new things on my own. I found myself slowing down long enough to admire a beautiful sunrise, watch the sunset, notice how clear the water was, or simply appreciate where I was instead of constantly thinking about where I should be.

More importantly, I learned to trust my instincts instead of waiting for certainty.

I realized that uncertainty hadn’t changed, I had. What once felt overwhelming had slowly become an invitation to explore, trust, and remain open to whatever came next.

Looking back, I didn’t notice the change all at once as it happened gradually. One walk, one sunrise, one step at a time. Before I knew it, I wasn’t just approaching my mornings differently, I was approaching life differently.

And so, today, I see uncertainty differently.

Rather than see it as a sign that I’m behind, I see it as a reminder that anything is possible. That I don’t have to rush. I don’t need the whole map before taking the next step. For the first time in a long time, not knowing felt less like failure and more like freedom.

Before, not knowing felt limiting. Today, not knowing feels limitless.

So much so, it’s given me peace, a calmer mind, creativity, hope, presence, freedom, openness, and a willingness to branch out in ways I never expected.

It also made me realize how much of my life I had spent trying to arrive somewhere instead of experiencing where I already was.

Sometimes I wonder who I would be if I had stayed at my old job, surrounded by the same people, or followed the same routine.

I don’t think I would’ve changed in the ways I needed to. I think I would’ve stayed where I was comfortable. And while comfort isn’t inherently bad, I don’t think it would’ve challenged me to grow, rediscover myself, or to step outside the life I had always known.

Because certainty kept me comfortable. But uncertainty invited me to grow.

If uncertainty has given me anything, it’s hope.

I still don’t know exactly where life is leading me, but I’ve stopped seeing that as something to fear. After all, some of the most meaningful parts of my life have come from paths I never planned to take.

And maybe that’s the beauty of not knowing.

It’s not that it guarantees everything will work out exactly as we imagined. It’s that it leaves room for something we never could have imagined in the first place.

For me, that realization came on quiet early morning walks. For someone else, it might come while journaling, creating, praying, gardening, or simply sitting in silence. The place matters less than the space you need to create to stop chasing certainty long enough to notice what’s already unfolding.

So, let’s take a moment to reflect: What would you change if you stopped seeing uncertainty as something to solve, and started seeing it as an invitation to discover what’s possible?

In the meantime, I’m sending you love, light, and hope.

And be sure to check back next Monday, for the next chapter of Think Again, What I Can Control.

As a signature of my blog, I’d like to end this post with a suggestion to “Pass on kindness.” There’s no time like the present to Inspire Those Who Inspire You. Acts of kindness, no matter how big or small, can have a direct, positive impact on someone else. Go out there today and change someone’s life for the better!

***These are my personal opinions and may not be those of my employer.***

Kelci

Hi, I’m Kelci — a wanderer of thoughts, collector of moments, and believer in the quiet power of truth. I write to make sense of the mess, to find meaning in the mundane, and to honor the beauty in being fully human. Inspire Those Who Inspire You is my love letter to those who’ve felt too much, hoped too hard, and dared to keep going anyway. You’re not alone here—and that matters.

https://www.linkedin.com/in/kelcihogue/
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When I Stopped Explaining