For the past week or so, I’ve been sitting with a familiar feeling.
The quiet kind of hesitation that shows up right before you begin something new. It’s not panic. And it’s definitely not dread.
Just that subtle voice that says, maybe wait a little longer.
I then decide that I should wait until things feel clearer. Once I reach a certain level of clarity, then I can proceed; with more information & variables accounted for, I can make the ‘best’ decision.
If I’m honest, that voice & I go way back.
For most of my adult life, I’ve approached things with what I believed was thoughtful intention & preparation. In reality, it was often just control wearing a very convincing disguise.
I liked having a sense of the path before I started walking it. I liked knowing what I was getting into. From hobbies to career decisions, I’ve spent years trying to anticipate outcomes before allowing myself to begin. At the time, it felt responsible.
Looking back, it was also a little suffocating.
This past year has been the first time in ages where I can remember letting myself start things without that level of certainty. It began with small things. Curious things. I started making little home goods just to see what would happen. I perfected a night lip balm which somehow turned into a small tradition of gifting friends handmade cosmetics & even custom birthday candles.
I started making collagen cubes for soups, stocks, & occasionally dropping them into my coffee like some kind of kitchen alchemist. I recently tried my hand at metalworking—or something adjacent to it—after finding an old engraved bracelet at a thrift store & spending an afternoon sanding & reshaping it into something sleeker.
None of these things began with expertise. They began with a choice.
The same kind of choice that led me to walk away from the career I spent ten years building & step into something I knew almost nothing about. There wasn’t a dramatic moment where everything suddenly made sense. No lightning bolt of certainty. Just a quiet decision that I wanted to try. And somehow, that became enough.
Which brings me back to this week & that familiar hesitation.
The next thing sitting in front of me isn’t a hobby or a small experiment. It’s the production of my next short film, Picture Perfect. I’ve submitted applications to grants, accelerator programs, & just about every opportunity that might help bring it to life. Part of me keeps thinking the responsible thing to do is pause until someone says yes. Wait for the green light. Wait for confirmation that the timing is right.
But the truth is, I still get to choose to begin.
Even if the grants don’t come through. Even if the accelerators pass. Even if the path forward is unclear.
I can start simply because I’ve decided to start.
And if you’ve been sitting on something—be it a project, a dream, a pivot—wondering whether you’re ready yet, this letter is for you.
Dear You,
I know how convincing the voice of “not yet” can be.
It tells you that you need a little more clarity first. A better plan. More preparation. Maybe a bit more confidence. Just a few more pieces in place before you finally begin.
And so you wait.
You wait for the right timing, the right circumstances, the right version of yourself to show up. The one who feels ready, capable, & certain about what comes next.
But the truth is, that version of you rarely arrives before the first step.
Many of us learn to believe we need everything aligned before we begin. The plan mapped out. The outcome understood. The risk minimized. It feels safer that way.
But starting rarely looks the way we imagine it will.
It’s most often messy. Incomplete. Uncertain. You may not know what you’re doing yet. You may feel awkward or exposed or unsure of yourself. That doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. It usually means you’ve stepped into something new.
Beginning is not about having everything in place.
It’s about deciding that the unknown is no longer a reason to stay still. Sometimes, the only thing you need is the willingness to try before you feel fully ready.
You may discover that courage doesn’t show up before the beginning.
It grows because of it.
With you in the first step,
Kasim