Uncertainty is Not the Enemy
- Adam Perrell
- Apr 28
- 2 min read

When life shifts, most of us reach for the same thing: certainty.
We want answers. We want clarity. We want something to hold onto that feels solid, unshakable. We imagine that what we hold to be secure and safe will ground us.
But the truth is, certainty was never the foundation we thought it was. Certainty is a comfort we borrow, not a guarantee we own. Certainty is a logical story we tell ourselves of cause and effect—narrow in scope, limited in consequence, but predictable in outcome.
Transitions confront us with the uncomfortable reality that so much of life is uncertain—and always has been. Career shifts, losses, new beginnings, evolving identities: all of these expose the illusions we’ve built around control. They strip away the old structures, leaving us face-to-face with something deeper. Transitions peel away the layers of structures we have built around us and expose a raw core of strength, endurance, and human spirit.
Striving for certainty instead of embracing change can dampen that spirit. Carl Jung taught that change begins in the unconscious, long before it reaches the surface. The noise of daily life can drown out the buzz of personal transformation. Jessica Dore reminds us that real transformation often starts in moments of emptiness, uncertainty, and surrender. When we have silence and stillness, recognizing these shifts becomes a practice of listening. And Gabor Maté speaks to the ways our culture pressures us to cling to control, even when it stifles our healing. Resisting evolution to sustain a status quo that does not serve us is energy depleting, makes more distracting noise, and causes more unconscious discomfort.
If we look closely, uncertainty is not here to punish us. It doesn’t even acknowledge us. It is our challenge to face as a part of living. It prepares us—for something larger than what certainty could ever offer.
Ernest Becker wrote that we suffer most not from what happens to us, but from the stories we tell ourselves about what it means. The story of uncertainty doesn’t have to be one of fear. It can be one of opening. It can be the story of abandoning rigid structural crutches and embracing our inner strength to walk our own paths.
There is courage in admitting we don’t know. There is wisdom in allowing life to unfold without forcing it into a shape it isn’t ready to take. There is strength in surrendering—not as a resignation, but as an act of deep trust in our capacity to meet what comes.
We don’t need to know. We have what we need in ourselves and those around us to face what comes. Let’s listen, feel, and grow.
Reflection:
What if uncertainty isn’t a problem to solve, but an invitation to listen more deeply?
What new possibilities might emerge if you stop fighting the unknown—and start working with it?
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