Clarity Doesn’t Come Before the Leap—It Comes After.
We’ve all said it at some point:
“I’m just waiting for clarity.”
It sounds wise. Responsible. Like we’re gathering the data, trusting the process, making sure we don’t move too fast.
But here’s the real truth—
Most of the time, we’re not waiting for clarity…
We’re avoiding change.
What Really Keeps Us Stuck
It’s not confusion that holds us back.
It’s the fear of letting go of what’s familiar, what feels safe, or what others have come to expect of us.
We say we want clarity, but what we’re really craving is certainty.
And clarity and certainty are not the same thing.
Clarity often arrives mid-leap—in the messy middle, the breathless moment after the letting go and before the landing. It’s in the doing, the trusting, the becoming that we start to understand what’s real and aligned.
Waiting too long for a picture-perfect answer can become its own kind of paralysis.
Letting Go of the Outdated Version of You
So here’s your invitation:
What if you stopped waiting to “feel ready”?
What if you gave yourself permission to release the version of you that’s no longer aligned?
The one who stayed quiet to keep the peace.
The one who settled because it was comfortable.
The one who kept choosing what’s known over what’s possible.
Because the truth is, that version of you was never meant to come with you into your next chapter.
And the longer you hold on, the heavier it gets.
Making Space to Rise
When you finally release what’s no longer aligned, you don’t just make room for clarity—
You make room for transformation.
For the version of you who’s not waiting anymore.
Who’s ready to rise, even without a detailed map.
That leap?
It doesn’t have to be reckless.
It just has to be honest.
You know when it’s time.
And if your soul is whispering now…
Trust it.
Reflection Prompt:
Where in my life am I waiting for clarity, when what I really need is the courage to move?
What part of me is ready to be released?
And what might be possible if I let that version go—just a little bit—today?
All my best,
Cristan