A few days ago, I got an email from a long-time Driftyland reader (whatwhaaat). This lovely person told me a deeply intimate story about a situation they were going through (opted not to include that here), but asked a question that I’ve been asked a few times now.
“Melissa,” this person concluded their (quite moving) email with. “How can anyone be positively certain about anything?”
I mused over it for a few minutes, then replied with: “I’ll explain, but also…. can I write a kick-ass blog post about this?”
They agreed, and I sent a draft of this before I published anything. I’d like to note that I also gave this person some private feedback that I don’t think the world needs to know. I just find the overall topic to be intimidating and I’d like to open the floor for discussion.
So, the question was: how does anyone know anything for certain, or specifically, how do I?
My answer: I don’t. I never try to be certain. Certainty is too elusive, it’s too quick. Certainty doesn’t want to be hunted down and hung over a mantle. It’s a reward after a period of learning, trust, and exploration.
It’s a treasure, not a trophy.
I used to be a huge advocate of tracking down certainty. My life was about neatly and efficiently organizing decisions and situations into a yes or no category. Anything in-between was grey and undeserving of my time.
But within the grey is where the magic happens. That’s where the lessons are learned. That’s where certainty comes to light.
I don’t think people actually want certainty as much as they say they do. They want a guarantee. They want things to be easy. They assign certainty because it enables them to leave something in a place of permanence…
…and walk away from it. Because once something is certain, it can’t change. It can’t evolve. It’s complete.
My love for travel, for example, hasn’t been a certainty, but a journey. It’s been a struggle, a challenge, but one that humbled me, stretched my limits, and made me uncomfortable. The road to certainty was twisted and complicated. It was an easy thing to love, but it wasn’t an easy thing to be certain about.
My decision to quit my last job was the same. I racked my brain for months on whether or not I should quit. Even in moments I felt what I thought could be certainty, I also felt fear, anxiety and boredom. Instead of acting on those feelings, I let nature run it’s course without putting too much pressure on it…
…and it led me to certainty.
So I challenged my reader, as I would anyone, to try to take the pressure off by replacing the word “certain” in any instance they were using it. Recognize that no one is entitled to certainty, and it rarely shows up when you’re demanding it’s presence.
Instead of saying, “I’m certain that was the right choice,” or “I’m not certain what I should do about this,” try “I’m optimistic that was the right choice,” or “I know I’m not ready to decide what I should do about this.”
Don’t rob yourself of the beautiful and imperfect of the challenging unknown – don’t squash it under the impossible weight of certainty. Don’t rob yourself the opportunity to treat your uncertainty with the fragility and gentleness it deserves.
Make friends with your uncertainty. Let it breathe. Thrive in it. Give yourself the freedom to float in uncertainty, all Drew Barrymore in Ever After style. When you throw yourself into the flawed, you stay curious. You stay alert.
You grant yourself permission to just be.
As a result, after you’ve surrendered your need of safety and control to the unfamiliar, your certainty might find you when (and where) you least expect it.