This really resonated with me because it challenges something many of us do automatically: treating discomfort as a problem that needs an immediate solution.
What I appreciated most was the distinction between gaps that need to be closed and gaps that need to be understood. We often rush toward answers because uncertainty feels uncomfortable, but some of the most important questions in life can't be solved on demand. They need time, attention, and a willingness to sit with not knowing.
The line *"The gap wasn't asking me for an answer. It was asking me to pay attention"* is such a powerful insight. Sometimes what feels like stagnation is actually a period of listening. A time when our values are shifting, our identity is evolving, or a new direction is quietly taking shape beneath the surface.
I also loved the idea that the answer wasn't hiding, the question was still forming. There is something incredibly reassuring about that. Not every period of uncertainty is a sign that we're lost. Sometimes it's simply the space where understanding is still becoming itself.
A thoughtful and refreshing reminder that not every discomfort is a signal to act. Sometimes it's an invitation to listen more closely. 🤍
In some ways, I think you might have captured the idea here better than I did.
For a long time, I assumed uncertainty meant I was missing an answer somewhere, but these days I'm starting to be more certain that some periods of uncertainty exist because the question itself is still taking shape.
Dear Frames That Linger: I love your comment "Sometimes what feels like stagnation is actually a period of listening. A time when our values are shifting, our identify is evolving"....I took a Great Course about the Creative Process. There is an incubation period after you start a creative project (for me it's writing) and it has a life of its own...working below the surface in our unconscious, and you know this because after a while, it bubbles to the surface as an "epiphany"...which it isn't. The same is true for evolving identify, shifting values, and all the rest. None of this can happen in a hurry, and it certainly cannot work by writing down a list of pros and cons in a chart on a notebook page.
Such an honest piece! We live in a world that demands immediate clarity and pivoting, so your defense of the slow, messy process of a question forming is incredibly healing. Thank you for this fierce reminder that staying in the in-between isn't a failure of will. It’s often the only way to ensure we don't just solve the discomfort, but actually outgrow the story that created it.
It's interesting to me how many of us are circling similar themes. My memory is not reliable, but I know I've read a few other posts this week that would read well alongside your thoughts. I love that synchronicity! (And I just subscribed!)
Last week I wrote about the rush to certainty and how discomfort is just an experience, not necessarily a message to move. Some similar themes as well.
If you're interested in reading, I'll leave the link here:
Dan, this is so profound and true. I love this part of the headline: "Sometimes the question is still forming." We want discomfort and anxiety to be solved immediately, don't we? We hate uncertainty. We want a definite plan that is bound to work. But we can't always know these things in advance. For example, the "dream job" that looks so good when you're interviewing for it turns out to be a bust. I once took one like that and quit after just 3 weeks (to be fair, it was a contract job, and that was the only time I had ever quit suddenly like that....but the job was bad in every way). Anyway, marriage can be like that, too. Your boyfriend/girlfriend is on his/her best behavior when you're dating, or even engaged...but what about after five years of living together? It can be totally different. Also, even when the job or partner does NOT break promises, we may gradually discover it's not what we wanted after all. Jobs change us, relationships change us, life changes us. I am not the same person I was ten years ago (when I retired), but there is a core of me that actually goes back to my childhood. That's what we have to search for -- what and who are we, really?
I also love these sentences of your essay:
Sometimes the gap between the life we’ve built and the life we crave is pointing toward a change that needs to happen.
Sometimes it’s revealing a value we’ve neglected.
Sometimes it’s exposing a story we’ve outgrown.
…especially this part: " the story we've outgrown." So often we listen to the voices of society and the "should's", and absorb the guilt we're supposed to feel, instead of listening to our own voice and our own self. That's hard, and I learned to do it with the help of an excellent therapist.
Also, and this is the most important part: While it's hard to remember your past self (long past, I mean), it is actually impossible to know your future self. Who knows what will shape you in the next five years, ten years? You will change, that's for sure. So, when we think we misunderstood something in our past (and beat ourselves up for past "mistakes"), in fact, maybe we didn't misunderstand after all. Maybe that was what our past self of that time simply had to do, because our past self was a different person.
I really like what you wrote about our past selves.
I think one of the reasons I spent so many years feeling frustrated during that period was that I kept assuming there would be a correct answer that I was somehow failing to find.
But I don’t think that is the right way to understand that period.
Your comment made me think about how often and easily we can judge previous versions of ourselves through the lens of who we’ve become.
The person asking those questions five years ago didn’t have the knowledge or experience I have now. He hadn’t lived through the next five years yet. He couldn’t see what I can see now because, in some ways, he was a different person.
A thought that sometimes returns to me is whether hindsight might create its own illusion of certainty.
Because the path looks so obvious once we’ve walked it. The lesson feels so clear once we’ve learnt it.
But while we’re living it, things don’t feel so clear.
And that’s one of the reasons why your observation about not knowing our future selves resonated with me. I think we often talk about self-discovery as if there’s a fixed version of us waiting to be found somewhere.
My experience hasn’t really been that I found someone, but rather like a gradual process of becoming.
And as you said, that process doesn’t really stop.
Jobs, relationships, and parenthood change us. Writing has changed me a lot as well. And some parts of us seem to remain surprisingly consistent across decades.
I appreciate you taking the time to write such a thoughtful comment. I realize I started rambling a bit, and as you can probably tell, it gave me something to think about.
Dan, exactly! Love your comment about hindsight: "It creates an illusion of certainty". Also, love your comment about how we think there is a correct answer, and we just have to find it. I have been divorced twice (now in third marriage for 34 years), but when I was going through my first divorce, which took a long time to accept, I did have an epiphany. It was this: "There are no right or wrong answers, only the choices we make" (and the consequences that follow). And BTW, rambling is okay! You already know that it's one of MY habits. LOL Doris
"There are no right or wrong answers, only the choices we make."
I can see why that stayed with you.
I think part of what I had been wrestling with is how much energy I've spent assuming there was a 'correct' path hidden somewhere, and that my job was to find it.
But the older I've gotten, the less convinced I am that life works that way.
And I have to admit, I smiled when I read that you've been married 34 years. That's almost as long as I've been alive.
There's something I enjoy about conversations like this. We're looking at some of the same questions from very different points on the timeline.
And your comment about divorce also connects back to something we've both mentioned here: Looking back, it's easy to imagine there was a right answer that should have been obvious. But in reality, you're making the best decisions you can with the information and understanding you have at the time.
At least for me, the certainty seems to arrive afterwards.
And thanks for the permission to ramble. I suspect that's one habit neither of us is going to completely outgrow :)
Yes, I figured you were in your 30's. It sometimes shocks me that my current marriage has lasted almost as long as my life before it (after 2 previous, very-different "lives"!) It is great to ponder the same questions from different perspectives. Actually, you are remarkably reflective for a young person. And that's a good thing! :-)
As someone who’s in the process of “what to do next” and I between this resonated deeply and at the same time made me feel less alone in it. Uncertainty fills our lives yet so many of us feel a bit -for lack of a better word- almost afraid at the unknown and not finding the answers to soothe me while navigating these periods. Thanks for sharing and writing this deep provoking thoughts
Wow, this really hits home. You have such a gift for articulating that quiet, internal friction, like when everything works on the outside, but something inside is still searching. The idea that the gap itself isn't the problem, but rather how we treat it, is incredibly liberating. Beautifully put, Dan! 🩶
This resonated with me. I’ve noticed that some of the most important seasons in life aren’t the ones where we find answers quickly, but the ones where we learn to sit with questions long enough to understand what they’re really asking.
The idea that, the question was still forming and hit particularly hard. We often pressure ourselves to have a clear plan, when sometimes uncertainty isn’t a sign that we’re lost, it’s a sign that we’re still becoming. Thank you for sharing such an honest perspective on the difference between forcing clarity and allowing it to emerge.
For a long time I treated uncertainty as something to eliminate as quickly as possible. Lately I've been wondering if some of the most important changes happen precisely when we don't yet have the answer.
I wonder if some questions only become clear after we move, not before. Waiting for the question to fully form can sometimes be another way of staying inside the gap.
This resonated with me because I think many of us have been conditioned to believe that uncertainty is a flaw in the system.
If something feels off, we assume we need a plan. If we feel restless, we assume we need a solution. If there's a gap, we assume our job is to close it as quickly as possible.
What stood out to me was your distinction between a gap that is asking for action and a gap that is asking for attention. Those are very different things, yet I suspect many of us treat them the same.
The line, "The answer wasn't hiding from me. The question was still forming," may be my favorite part of the piece. Looking back on my own life, some of the most important shifts didn't happen because I found the right answer. They happened because I finally understood what question I was actually trying to answer in the first place.
I also appreciate that this isn't an argument against action. It's a reminder that action taken too early can sometimes become a way of escaping uncertainty rather than learning from it.
Thank you for sharing this. It gave me a new way to think about those uncomfortable in-between seasons that so many of us experience.
When I was in the Special Forces I was expected to carry a 100 lbs rucksack 12 miles. At 148 lbs my body told me that was impossible. My mind told me I could do it I just concentrated on taking the next step. I finished the course. I look at where I am and where I want to be and looks like an impossible journey If when I go to bed at night I'm just a little bit better of a person than when I got up that morning...I took a step. 👋
A few years ago, our small missionary church in downtown Clarksville, Tennessee was run by five volunteer, retired and active duty Special Forces NCOs. We provided food, clothing, limited rent, council and occasionally helped pay for and arrange rehab to the poor and homeless. The music was live with guitars, and percussion by us.
This was all out of our own pockets. All services were free. It wasn't exactly preaching. Anyone in attendance could contribute to the conversation.
In the Special Forces Forces there is a running joke, "I was in the last hard class".
One Sunday as a warm-up to the service I started out with a jab at the other volunteers. I was the oldest of the old-timers by a good 20 years.
"I was in the last hard class. I had to carry 100 lbs of heavy equipment. In my day my HF radio and batteries alone weighed 45 pounds . You guys had it easy. With today's technology everything is much smaller and lighter. You guys only had to carry 100 pounds of lightweight equipment.
Special Forces is a “hearts and minds” community. If you expect a battalion of indigenous forces to follow you into combat you better be out front. If you expect the homeless and downtrodden to follow you into the church you better be out front.
This really resonated with me because it challenges something many of us do automatically: treating discomfort as a problem that needs an immediate solution.
What I appreciated most was the distinction between gaps that need to be closed and gaps that need to be understood. We often rush toward answers because uncertainty feels uncomfortable, but some of the most important questions in life can't be solved on demand. They need time, attention, and a willingness to sit with not knowing.
The line *"The gap wasn't asking me for an answer. It was asking me to pay attention"* is such a powerful insight. Sometimes what feels like stagnation is actually a period of listening. A time when our values are shifting, our identity is evolving, or a new direction is quietly taking shape beneath the surface.
I also loved the idea that the answer wasn't hiding, the question was still forming. There is something incredibly reassuring about that. Not every period of uncertainty is a sign that we're lost. Sometimes it's simply the space where understanding is still becoming itself.
A thoughtful and refreshing reminder that not every discomfort is a signal to act. Sometimes it's an invitation to listen more closely. 🤍
Thank you, Frames That Linger.
In some ways, I think you might have captured the idea here better than I did.
For a long time, I assumed uncertainty meant I was missing an answer somewhere, but these days I'm starting to be more certain that some periods of uncertainty exist because the question itself is still taking shape.
I'm glad that part resonated with you.
Dear Frames That Linger: I love your comment "Sometimes what feels like stagnation is actually a period of listening. A time when our values are shifting, our identify is evolving"....I took a Great Course about the Creative Process. There is an incubation period after you start a creative project (for me it's writing) and it has a life of its own...working below the surface in our unconscious, and you know this because after a while, it bubbles to the surface as an "epiphany"...which it isn't. The same is true for evolving identify, shifting values, and all the rest. None of this can happen in a hurry, and it certainly cannot work by writing down a list of pros and cons in a chart on a notebook page.
Such an honest piece! We live in a world that demands immediate clarity and pivoting, so your defense of the slow, messy process of a question forming is incredibly healing. Thank you for this fierce reminder that staying in the in-between isn't a failure of will. It’s often the only way to ensure we don't just solve the discomfort, but actually outgrow the story that created it.
Thank you Life Inside My Mind.
“outgrow the story that created it”. I really like that phrase.
It feels very close to what I was trying to put words to with this piece.
You’re welcome!
It's interesting to me how many of us are circling similar themes. My memory is not reliable, but I know I've read a few other posts this week that would read well alongside your thoughts. I love that synchronicity! (And I just subscribed!)
Last week I wrote about the rush to certainty and how discomfort is just an experience, not necessarily a message to move. Some similar themes as well.
If you're interested in reading, I'll leave the link here:
https://haidewallgiesbrecht.substack.com/p/living-in-the-midst-of-the-unknown?r=22heqr&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web
Thank you and welcome aboard.
I’ve noticed the same thing lately. It feels like a lot of writers are exploring different parts of the same landscape.
I’ll read your piece as well.
Dan, this is so profound and true. I love this part of the headline: "Sometimes the question is still forming." We want discomfort and anxiety to be solved immediately, don't we? We hate uncertainty. We want a definite plan that is bound to work. But we can't always know these things in advance. For example, the "dream job" that looks so good when you're interviewing for it turns out to be a bust. I once took one like that and quit after just 3 weeks (to be fair, it was a contract job, and that was the only time I had ever quit suddenly like that....but the job was bad in every way). Anyway, marriage can be like that, too. Your boyfriend/girlfriend is on his/her best behavior when you're dating, or even engaged...but what about after five years of living together? It can be totally different. Also, even when the job or partner does NOT break promises, we may gradually discover it's not what we wanted after all. Jobs change us, relationships change us, life changes us. I am not the same person I was ten years ago (when I retired), but there is a core of me that actually goes back to my childhood. That's what we have to search for -- what and who are we, really?
I also love these sentences of your essay:
Sometimes the gap between the life we’ve built and the life we crave is pointing toward a change that needs to happen.
Sometimes it’s revealing a value we’ve neglected.
Sometimes it’s exposing a story we’ve outgrown.
…especially this part: " the story we've outgrown." So often we listen to the voices of society and the "should's", and absorb the guilt we're supposed to feel, instead of listening to our own voice and our own self. That's hard, and I learned to do it with the help of an excellent therapist.
Also, and this is the most important part: While it's hard to remember your past self (long past, I mean), it is actually impossible to know your future self. Who knows what will shape you in the next five years, ten years? You will change, that's for sure. So, when we think we misunderstood something in our past (and beat ourselves up for past "mistakes"), in fact, maybe we didn't misunderstand after all. Maybe that was what our past self of that time simply had to do, because our past self was a different person.
Doris Waltz Walters
Royal Oak, Michigan
Doris, Thank you for such a thoughtful response.
I really like what you wrote about our past selves.
I think one of the reasons I spent so many years feeling frustrated during that period was that I kept assuming there would be a correct answer that I was somehow failing to find.
But I don’t think that is the right way to understand that period.
Your comment made me think about how often and easily we can judge previous versions of ourselves through the lens of who we’ve become.
The person asking those questions five years ago didn’t have the knowledge or experience I have now. He hadn’t lived through the next five years yet. He couldn’t see what I can see now because, in some ways, he was a different person.
A thought that sometimes returns to me is whether hindsight might create its own illusion of certainty.
Because the path looks so obvious once we’ve walked it. The lesson feels so clear once we’ve learnt it.
But while we’re living it, things don’t feel so clear.
And that’s one of the reasons why your observation about not knowing our future selves resonated with me. I think we often talk about self-discovery as if there’s a fixed version of us waiting to be found somewhere.
My experience hasn’t really been that I found someone, but rather like a gradual process of becoming.
And as you said, that process doesn’t really stop.
Jobs, relationships, and parenthood change us. Writing has changed me a lot as well. And some parts of us seem to remain surprisingly consistent across decades.
I appreciate you taking the time to write such a thoughtful comment. I realize I started rambling a bit, and as you can probably tell, it gave me something to think about.
Dan, exactly! Love your comment about hindsight: "It creates an illusion of certainty". Also, love your comment about how we think there is a correct answer, and we just have to find it. I have been divorced twice (now in third marriage for 34 years), but when I was going through my first divorce, which took a long time to accept, I did have an epiphany. It was this: "There are no right or wrong answers, only the choices we make" (and the consequences that follow). And BTW, rambling is okay! You already know that it's one of MY habits. LOL Doris
"There are no right or wrong answers, only the choices we make."
I can see why that stayed with you.
I think part of what I had been wrestling with is how much energy I've spent assuming there was a 'correct' path hidden somewhere, and that my job was to find it.
But the older I've gotten, the less convinced I am that life works that way.
And I have to admit, I smiled when I read that you've been married 34 years. That's almost as long as I've been alive.
There's something I enjoy about conversations like this. We're looking at some of the same questions from very different points on the timeline.
And your comment about divorce also connects back to something we've both mentioned here: Looking back, it's easy to imagine there was a right answer that should have been obvious. But in reality, you're making the best decisions you can with the information and understanding you have at the time.
At least for me, the certainty seems to arrive afterwards.
And thanks for the permission to ramble. I suspect that's one habit neither of us is going to completely outgrow :)
Yes, I figured you were in your 30's. It sometimes shocks me that my current marriage has lasted almost as long as my life before it (after 2 previous, very-different "lives"!) It is great to ponder the same questions from different perspectives. Actually, you are remarkably reflective for a young person. And that's a good thing! :-)
As someone who’s in the process of “what to do next” and I between this resonated deeply and at the same time made me feel less alone in it. Uncertainty fills our lives yet so many of us feel a bit -for lack of a better word- almost afraid at the unknown and not finding the answers to soothe me while navigating these periods. Thanks for sharing and writing this deep provoking thoughts
Thank you. 🤍
I think that’s exactly what I was trying to explore.
The uncertainty itself is difficult, but so is the feeling that everyone else seems to know where they’re going while you’re still figuring it out.
I’m glad the piece helped you feel a little less alone in that.
This articles is really impactful and worthy.
Just highlighting this part
Whenever someone asked what I wanted to do next, I could tell them why I wanted to leave.
But I never knew how to answer the second half of the question.
The conversation would usually stall there.
And looking back, a few of the gaps I was most desperate to escape turned out to be the places where I learned to listen.
Keep writing 💫
Thanks Ved.
Wow, this really hits home. You have such a gift for articulating that quiet, internal friction, like when everything works on the outside, but something inside is still searching. The idea that the gap itself isn't the problem, but rather how we treat it, is incredibly liberating. Beautifully put, Dan! 🩶
Thank you Marga 🤍
That was one of the realizations behind the piece.
I had treated those gaps as evidence of something being wrong. But now I’m more inclined to see some of them as questions that are still forming.
This resonated with me. I’ve noticed that some of the most important seasons in life aren’t the ones where we find answers quickly, but the ones where we learn to sit with questions long enough to understand what they’re really asking.
The idea that, the question was still forming and hit particularly hard. We often pressure ourselves to have a clear plan, when sometimes uncertainty isn’t a sign that we’re lost, it’s a sign that we’re still becoming. Thank you for sharing such an honest perspective on the difference between forcing clarity and allowing it to emerge.
Thank you. 🤍
I love the phrase "still becoming."
For a long time I treated uncertainty as something to eliminate as quickly as possible. Lately I've been wondering if some of the most important changes happen precisely when we don't yet have the answer.
The question is still forming, and so are we.
I wonder if some questions only become clear after we move, not before. Waiting for the question to fully form can sometimes be another way of staying inside the gap.
That’s a fair challenge.
There have definitely been periods in my life where movement has created clarity that thinking never could.
One of the hardest things, at least for me, is figuring out when uncertainty is asking for patience and when it’s asking for a step forward.
I suspect we’ve both made mistakes at different times.
And your comment actually gave me a few ideas for additions to the piece. I think it's something I should explore further.
This resonated with me because I think many of us have been conditioned to believe that uncertainty is a flaw in the system.
If something feels off, we assume we need a plan. If we feel restless, we assume we need a solution. If there's a gap, we assume our job is to close it as quickly as possible.
What stood out to me was your distinction between a gap that is asking for action and a gap that is asking for attention. Those are very different things, yet I suspect many of us treat them the same.
The line, "The answer wasn't hiding from me. The question was still forming," may be my favorite part of the piece. Looking back on my own life, some of the most important shifts didn't happen because I found the right answer. They happened because I finally understood what question I was actually trying to answer in the first place.
I also appreciate that this isn't an argument against action. It's a reminder that action taken too early can sometimes become a way of escaping uncertainty rather than learning from it.
Thank you for sharing this. It gave me a new way to think about those uncomfortable in-between seasons that so many of us experience.
Thank you for this Genovie.
I particularly liked your phrase “uncertainty is a flaw in the system”
I think I spent years treating it that way.
I’m glad the distinction between action and attention resonated with you.
When I was in the Special Forces I was expected to carry a 100 lbs rucksack 12 miles. At 148 lbs my body told me that was impossible. My mind told me I could do it I just concentrated on taking the next step. I finished the course. I look at where I am and where I want to be and looks like an impossible journey If when I go to bed at night I'm just a little bit better of a person than when I got up that morning...I took a step. 👋
I like that way of looking at it.
There’s something reassuring about measuring a day by whether we took a step, rather than whether we arrived.
Life's journey doesn't end until the day we die. Even on that day we learn something.
A few years ago, our small missionary church in downtown Clarksville, Tennessee was run by five volunteer, retired and active duty Special Forces NCOs. We provided food, clothing, limited rent, council and occasionally helped pay for and arrange rehab to the poor and homeless. The music was live with guitars, and percussion by us.
This was all out of our own pockets. All services were free. It wasn't exactly preaching. Anyone in attendance could contribute to the conversation.
In the Special Forces Forces there is a running joke, "I was in the last hard class".
One Sunday as a warm-up to the service I started out with a jab at the other volunteers. I was the oldest of the old-timers by a good 20 years.
"I was in the last hard class. I had to carry 100 lbs of heavy equipment. In my day my HF radio and batteries alone weighed 45 pounds . You guys had it easy. With today's technology everything is much smaller and lighter. You guys only had to carry 100 pounds of lightweight equipment.
I really like the image of 5 special forces NCO's running a small church together and helping people.
It feels like a very different kind of strength than the one most people imagine when they hear "special forces"
Special Forces is a “hearts and minds” community. If you expect a battalion of indigenous forces to follow you into combat you better be out front. If you expect the homeless and downtrodden to follow you into the church you better be out front.
I agree.
People are far more willing to follow what they can see being lived, rather than what they can hear being preached.
Faith comes in all shapes and sizes.
Yes! Sitting with ambiguity is very hard for us but so important. We have to sit long enough to understand what is really going on.