Knowing and Not Knowing

A reflection on staying grounded when everything feels fluid

I was in a meeting last week where a simple question derailed everything for twenty minutes. We were discussing outreach using some new communication tools, and someone asked: "So for the contact collection—are we supposed to gather everyone's info and submit it as one big list, or send out the form for people to fill individually?"

Silence. Then a chorus of "I thought we were..." and "Wait, didn't we decide..." and "Let me check my notes."

In that moment, I watched something fascinating unfold. Rather than spiraling into frustration, a few people started paying closer attention—not just to who was saying what, but to the how of what was happening. Our project lead kept glancing off screen, suggesting they were checking something. When the reason for the gathering the information in the first place was mentioned, the energy in the room shifted slightly. These weren't grand revelations, just small cues that helped us understand what was actually going on beneath the confusion.

It's becoming almost mundane to talk about how unprecedented our current times are in terms of change in the United States, and even globally, in terms of technology and political conflict. The question in our daily lives becomes how to move forward with purpose despite of this uncertainty.

I've been thinking lately about how we stay committed to what matters when the ground keeps shifting beneath our feet. How do we maintain confidence in our direction when we can't see the full path ahead?

The answer, I'm learning, isn't about having all the information. It's about developing a different kind of attention. We need to tune into the subtle signals that emerge when we're present enough to notice them. It may seem counter-intuitive, but to make better plans, stop trying to think ahead, and focus your effort on thinking more deeply in the now.

In our meeting, the breakthrough came when someone said, "You know what, let me just call Sarah right now and ask." Sarah is the one who is dealing with the list once it's collected, and while she wasn't at the meeting, she was the person closest to the best answer to the problem. Simple. Direct. And it revealed something important: sometimes the best response to uncertainty isn't more planning—it's more connection.

The communications moved forward. We got our answer (individual forms, for what it's worth). But what stuck with me was how the quality of our attention changed everything. When we stopped trying to force clarity and started noticing what was actually present—the hesitations, the glances, the small reveals—we found our way through.

This feels like a practice worth cultivating: staying rooted in purpose while remaining fluid in approach. Being confident in our commitment to what matters, even when we're not certain about the specifics of how it will unfold.

What if our confidence doesn't have to come from knowing the outcome, but from trusting our ability to sense what's needed as we go?

What are you paying attention to lately? I'd love to hear about the small cues you're noticing in your own work and relationships.

Thanks for reading. If this resonated, feel free to share it with someone who might appreciate it too.