I Don’t Know What I’m Doing (And That’s Okay)
I want to let you in on a little secret: I don’t know what I’m doing.
Well, sometimes I have a general idea of where I’d like to go, but I rarely know exactly how to get there.
A lot of people feel they need clarity before they can begin something new—or at least someone to guide them through the process. And thank goodness for that (my work as a teacher depends on it!). But here’s the truth: we don’t actually need all the answers before we start.
Think about it, one of the biggest projects a human can ever take on is raising a child. And most people start with zero experience. They learn as they go.
That’s how it works with art, parenting, and even facing injustice: action matters more than certainty.
The Creative Process
Too often we only see the polished, finished version of things. We hear about the “right” way to do something, and if we don’t feel qualified, we hesitate to even begin. That hesitation can cost us the chance to create something truly wonderful.
If I’d thought that way forty years ago, I wouldn’t be where I am today as an artist. I wanted to hand-color my black-and-white photographs, but all I had was a fifty-year-old book, no teacher, no clear path. So I experimented. I didn’t want the traditional pastel effects of historical hand-coloring, so I had to find my own way.
To this day, I rarely start an artwork with a clear vision of the finished piece. I usually know the imagery, but not the final form. I move step by step: collage, image, color. The piece unfolds in front of me. Sometimes it feels scary. Sometimes it feels like a miracle.
What’s surprising is that when I do have a strong idea of how I want something to turn out, and I try too hard to force it, I’m usually disappointed. The most magical results come when I let myself play.
Even in photography, my still life compositions evolve as I move objects around until something clicks. That’s how a tiny turtle gained dragonfly wings, or a pair of seahorses ended up cradled in eggshells. When working in assemblage, it’s how a handful of wooden houses turned into a tree-covered village. None of it was planned, I just started.
Figuring It Out in Life
It’s the same with life. When my husband and I became parents more than thirty years ago, we knew the basics of baby care, but like every new parent, we were still figuring it out as we went. Now we’re grandparents, and once again we’re learning as we go.
And right now, we’re all in a time unlike any we’ve lived through before, watching our government discard due process, slash healthcare and environmental protections, and punish dissent in ways we’ve never seen in the United States. I don’t know what I’m doing in the face of this, but I know I can’t stay silent.
At the very least, I’ve started to speak up. Some people think I’m wrong or naïve but starting somewhere matters. And as I speak, I discover others who see the same dangers and feel the same unease. Together, we’re beginning to form community.
It’s messy at first. It takes practice to hold both the dissonance of what’s happening in the world and the weight of everyday responsibilities. But community is the first step.
An Invitation
So here’s my encouragement for you: take a step, even if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. Whether it’s a creative project, a new community, or something bigger, just start.
It will feel scary. It may feel awkward. But when we bring our small offerings together, something stronger emerges.
That’s what we’re doing with our Flourish gatherings. We’re just getting started, but more opportunities—both in person and online—are coming soon.
Share this with a friend who needs to be reminded: you don’t have to have all the answers before you begin.
And if you’re stepping into something new, reach out and let me know. I’d love to cheer you on.
Because hope and healing happen when we come together.
