There’s more to learn from embracing the unknown than flailing or fleeing from it in the search for control. When we find ourselves plunging into it, our first instinct is to scramble — overanalyse the situation, expedite scrappy solutions, and protect ourselves emotionally from what we think will come next. We want clarity and resolution as soon as possible. But true growth lies in resisting that urge and sitting with the discomfort instead.
Most of the worthwhile moments we experience tend to come from loss, crisis, or wandering in the dark. Not from moments of panic, where you were caught proclaiming things such as, "I need to sort this out now!” but from the standstill and basking in vulnerability — where you were unmoored from your typical ways of thinking and being but refused to change a thing.
The unknown paradoxically has enormous creative potential if we muster the courage to dive into it. When we stop flailing against the waves and instead learn to float, we start being present with the intensity of our feelings without judgment or the compulsion to change them. From there, we discover how precious and vibrant life can be.
I learned that only once you know how to float do you notice how many people flail and swim hopelessly against the tide. You can see how much fear is in everyone’s eyes. You can hear how they flood their mouths with words and proclamations instead of questions. They don’t lay back, relax, and wait and see. They fight the discomfort of sitting still with what they don’t know.
Learning to float isn’t easy, no doubt. But the problem is that few people even try.
I grew up in and around those who were told repeatedly that strong feelings are pathetic and need to be controlled. It was in our culture to repulse emotion or else be ridden with shame, fear, and self-doubt.
This is why intimacy and connection can be so difficult to develop, both with others and ourselves. Defensiveness, dismissiveness, and disconnection stem from discomfort, over-intellectualisation, and trying to impose simplified stories and the illusion of control. True intimacy means making space for the full range of human emotions, allowing your flawed humanity to unfold authentically over time without trying to shape the narrative. You need patience, room to play, and a calm refusal to let shame and control suck the life out of the important moments in your life.
Ultimately, surrendering to the present reality over fantasising about how we wish things were lets us cultivate honesty and flourish. It is difficult as our culture constantly reinforces that strong emotions must be stifled or fixed. But when you can admit, “I feel too much right now… I feel afraid, inadequate, lost,” and let those feelings exist, your body will find unexpected relaxation.
Recently, a set of comments a few people online made about something I wanted to achieve brought me down more than I expected. No matter what I did at the time to relax and forget about it, I couldn’t stop caring too much about what they said. But I’m writing about this now because I found a solution that worked brilliantly. Inadvertently, I stopped striving to control the situation — which was only making me feel more fragile — and accepted the reality of how it was making me feel.
Sometimes, just doing that is enough. Instead of panicking and trying to turn back on my goal out of the fear of sinking, I felt alive from letting what was happening… happen. Hasty analysis and panicked attempts to close off a situation can lead us to wrong conclusions. But if you lie down and talk to yourself about how you’re feeling, it can be enough to make you loosen up, slow down, and take a deep breath again.
In that moment, you finally let go of control. Everything you care about can be improved by admitting how much you care about it. Dare to believe in fully feeling and engaging with the good and bad. Let yourself float through the turbulent waters. Allow yourself to be buoyant and bright rather than cynical. When you acknowledge how you feel and stop trying to always fix yourself, everything good can begin.