Certainty is not necessary

They didn’t know how it was going to turn out. (Image by Christo Anestev)

They didn’t know how it was going to turn out. (Image by Christo Anestev)

If you have watched the Hamilton movie on Disney Plus — or were lucky enough to see it in person before the world shut down — you might appreciate seeing Lin-Manuel Miranda’s performance of an early version of the musical’s opener, “Alexander Hamilton,” at the White House back in 2009.

Already a seasoned performer, the twenty-nine-year-old Miranda channels his nervous energy into his rapping and singing, creating that magical feedback loop between soloist, accompanist, and audience, elevating the moment and getting everyone on board with something entirely new. At the same time, you can see that the concept is not fully formed, and the piece is definitely not polished. It’s a high-wire act, with all the danger that implies, and Miranda, with the support of Alex Lacamoire, just barely managed to make it to the other side.

The nature of an artist’s role is to bring new ideas to life and test them. In Miranda’s case, he was still a ways a way from turning his mixtape into a musical, and years away from Hamilton’s debut and subsequent acclaim. There was no way to know, in 2009, whether the thing would work or even if he’d have the stamina to complete it — or even what “complete” would ultimately look like. The fact that Hamilton exists — or that any piece of art exists — is a testament to the courage and fortitude of an artist who pressed forward despite uncertainty.

In the work I do as a teacher and a coach, I am a constant witness to the discomfort that uncertainty causes people. They are looking for a way around it — a way around these feelings of nervousness, fear, confusion, frustration, awkwardness, and shame that they feel when they try to do something new or difficult. They take these negative emotions as a signal that something is wrong and want to resolve them before moving forward. What’s more, they want to be sure that what they are doing is right and that they will not share something that will leave them open to criticism or ridicule.

In fact, you don’t have to wait to resolve all of the uncertainty before beginning. You can’t, so you can just choose to do the work. Doing the work is the way through all of those feelings, some of which may never leave you. Years later, you’ll wake up in the middle of the night and think, “What the hell am I thinking!?!” Believe it or not, that doesn’t mean your idea is foolish. It just means you are challenging yourself in new ways. You can get used to that feeling over time. The uncertainty becomes a familiar friend.

It has to be that way, because you can never be sure that what you’re doing is right. There’s no such thing as “right” in this context. Doing anything leaves you open to criticism and ridicule. Not all of us will present our works-in-progress for the president of the United States, but submitting a term paper or clicking “send” on an email to 500 people can be nerve-wracking. You just never know whether your plan will succeed or how it will be received.

That fundamental uncertainty is stressful, but also freeing. There are lots of people who can tell you that your work is wrong or bad, but no one person or institution who is the arbiter of such things. But even if you think your work is wrong or bad, you can continue to take action anyway. And over time, you’ll learn and improve and your results will get better.

Whatever the scary thing is that you’re not sure about, you can push forward anyway and take action. All around you, the people who are taking action are reckoning with the same uncertainty you are facing. They just push it to the side and keep going. Certainty is not necessary. All you need is the willingness to try, regardless.