On Deciding without Clarity
Most of us are taught, implicitly or explicitly, that good decisions come from clarity.
We gather information. We weigh options. We wait for the moment when things finally feel obvious enough to act.
But in practice, many of the decisions that matter most don’t arrive that way.
They show up when evidence conflicts.
When experience doesn’t line up with theory.
When the data is incomplete, the stakes are personal, and time is still moving.
In those moments, clarity isn’t something we achieve and then decide from. It’s something we hope for — often as a way of postponing the discomfort of choosing.
I’ve seen this pattern repeat across very different domains: in women’s health, where recommendations shift faster than bodies do; in belief and religious life, where certainty can feel safer than curiosity; and in business settings, where disagreement is often treated as a problem to eliminate rather than information to examine.
What tends to stall us isn’t a lack of intelligence or effort. It’s the assumption that we’re supposed to feel sure before we move.
But many, maybe most, decisions don’t work that way.
Real, Honest Decisions
The truth is that real certainty about what’s best, or what will happen when we choose to do X or Y activity, doesn’t exist. There’s no way to know for absolute sure.
Every time we make a choice, we’re weighing best guesses about what will happen.
If X, then Y. If Y, then Z.
What should we do about this?
I’ve come to think that one of the most important skills we can cultivate is the ability to decide with uncertainty rather than waiting for it to disappear — to make choices that are thoughtful, provisional, and responsive rather than perfect.
That is, we choose X, and we tell ourselves: I’ll see what happens, and maybe pivot to Y or Z or come up with a new plan based on what happens.
This isn’t resignation. It’s not giving up on good decisions. It’s a different, maybe stronger, foundation for a peaceful life: one that releases rigid control of outcomes and says I’ll just keep doing my best.
This births a new kind of confidence:
the confidence that we can remain attentive, revise when needed, and stay in relationship with the truth as it unfolds.
As I continue writing here in this space, if nothing else, I hope it offers a reminder that you’re not failing when clarity feels elusive. You may simply be in the middle of learning — and deciding — at the same time.
— Stefani