Clarity Without Certainty
In Radiant Body, as we move from January’s theme of clarity into February’s theme of expanding our capacity, I’ve been sitting with a familiar moment that keeps showing up in my life, the kind where I can feel exactly what the next step is. Yet, I can’t explain it logically, and I can’t predict how it will unfold. It isn’t that I lack clarity; it’s that I lack the kind of certainty my mind and ego want: an outcome, timeline, and guarantee that I will be safe, and when that guarantee isn’t available, the step can suddenly feel bigger than it actually is.
I know that edge, the place where something in me knows and something in me hesitates, and the gap between those two can feel like an ocean.
I found Kabbalah in my early twenties and fell in love with it, and while I drifted from it for a while, I returned to it more fully last January after my car accident, and it really supported me over the last year. I’m sharing a few of the lessons I’ve been sitting with lately, and one of them comes from a story where people stand at the water’s edge with the sea in front of them and pressure behind them, the definition of a moment with no clear way through. After the prayer and the pleading comes the turning point, the reminder that there is a time for prayer and alignment, and there is also a time to move with trust, and that the sea does not part while everyone waits safely on the shore, it parts as they step in and begin to walk into the unknown.
I don’t hear that as dismissing prayer or inner work, but as something I recognize in myself, which is that I can be deeply aligned, intuitive, aware of what’s true, and still use waiting as a way to avoid risk. Waiting can sound reasonable, even spiritual, like I’m just waiting for clarity, or I’ll do it when I feel better, or I’m not sure if it’s meant to be, when underneath it is simply: I’m not sure it’s safe.
In my life, that unknown is the moment right before I begin, right before I start the business, share the thing, make the call, have the conversation, commit wholeheartedly, and choose what I know will change my life.
Right now, if I’m honest, Radiant Body is that edge for me, because I’ve been nudged in this direction for years, and the voice behind the nudge has never been forceful, but it also hasn’t gone away; it’s steady, quiet, persistent, and the longer I try to ignore it the more obvious it becomes that it isn’t going anywhere. I still don’t know what to expect, or what it will become, but I do know that I can’t keep pretending the call doesn’t exist.
What makes these moments complicated is that my ego has its own logic, and it isn’t trying to ruin my life as much as it’s trying to keep me safe, but its definition of safety depends on predictability, approval, and guaranteed outcomes. Ego safety for me looks like staying where I am, keeping small and quiet, keeping my world small enough that nothing can really fail, and waiting until I can see the whole path before I take the first step, even though that kind of certainty rarely comes.
Intention doesn’t always arrive as certainty, but it does arrive as honesty, and it sounds like I’m doing this because I’m called to, or I’m choosing this because it feels true, or I can’t do this anymore, and sometimes that intention is the only part that feels crystal clear, and maybe that is enough to begin.
One of the most honest parts of this teaching, for me, is that it shows that I freeze when I don’t feel safe and I can’t predict the future, and my ego wants motivation to be transactional, like if I do this I’ll get that, if I start I’ll succeed, if I risk it will pay off, but the most meaningful shifts in my life haven’t worked that way.
The moments that changed me were often the moments when I knew something was true and still couldn’t see how it would unfold.
This is also why living halfway has felt so exhausting, because there have been times when I think the problem was that I didn’t have enough energy, motivation, or discipline, but when I look closer, what drains me most is usually the place where I am split. I’m posting but holding back because I don’t want to be fully seen, I’m trying while also protecting myself from disappointment, I’m offering effort while quietly waiting for someone or something to validate it before I give my whole heart, and I’ve felt this in relationships too, noticing how much strain gets created when expecting a sign, response, or an assurance before I give wholeheartedly.
It doesn’t feel like love when it’s filtered through calculation, and it doesn’t feel like freedom when I’m constantly scanning for proof that it’s worth my energy.
The teaching that helped me most is this idea of going all the way, not as intensity, or as pushing until I collapse, but as wholeheartedness without negotiation or expectation, simply because that is who I am, and because pushing that exhausts me is usually the kind that comes from my ego’s limited tank, the one that is asking what am I getting back.
Another is that you don’t wait for awakening from above, you begin with awakening from below, meaning you take the next step, you initiate the effort, you show up with what you have, and then clarity, support, strength, and timing meet you in response to that movement, not as magical thinking, but as a spiritual law of motion.
When I look back, I can see how many times I have lived this, I’ve moved, started over, ended relationships, and from the outside it might look scattered, but from the inside it has always felt like a knowing, a moment when I could feel that a path was no longer aligned, even if it looked stable on paper. There is usually an ache, but there is also always a moment that follows where the path becomes clearer once I’m moving and taking the action, I get the next step and then the next step until what was foggy becomes surprisingly clear.
Aviation was one of those chapters for me, where I put so much effort into becoming a pilot, teaching flying, building my hours, and then had to face the truth that it was no longer my direction. I didn’t see the whole road, but I did see the next step. I’ve had many more since then.
A big reason I hesitated to go all the way was the fear of wasting my time or energy if things didn’t work out, and for years, I judged myself for how many chapters I’ve had, as if it meant I couldn’t commit or that something was wrong with me. I’ve been many things: a manager, a pilot and instructor, a medic, I’ve worked in the oil field and driven heavy-duty equipment, I’ve been a realtor, and more, but when I slow down and really reflect, I can see that every chapter has given me something that came with me afterwards. The energy I invested never disappears because a chapter ends, energy is never lost, and I love that because it removes the illusion that wholehearted effort is a gamble; if I give myself fully to something and it ends, I haven’t failed, I’ve built capacity, skill, depth, and awareness that become part of me, and the tank I filled moves with me into the next chapter unless I decide it was wasted and turn it into regret.
What softened me most is the reminder that wholeheartedness isn’t only for big decisions, it’s for the in-between moments too. When I hold back, life continues, the other person or project loses nothing, but I’m the one who misses out, because I miss the chance to build my vessel, to meet the moment fully, and to receive the clarity that only comes through wholehearted presence and action. I don’t need the full map, but I do need to take the next true step, because clarity often comes after I move, not before.
So what I’m practicing now is moving when the quiet voice is clear, even when the outcome isn’t, showing up without waiting for proof, giving my energy without negotiating, and trusting that clarity arrives when I take action. And maybe the invitation is simply: take one honest step forward with an open heart, and let the path meet you there.
If you want to practice this in real time, you’re welcome to join me tomorrow, Sunday, February 1, at 7:30 am PST for a complimentary 60-ish minute Full Moon Kundalini class, just comment below and I will send you the link, or start in the Start Here section whenever it’s right.
And if you want to, here are some reflections I played with:
Where is there a quiet knowing in me that I’ve been delaying because I can’t predict the outcome?
What does ego safety look like for me right now, and what is it trying to protect me from?
Where am I half in, and what would wholehearted look like for one week?
What is one small step I can take in the next 24 hours that would count as movement?
🤍Kristi
