Hey there,

Before we dive in, two quick updates:

1. I renovated my website. Not everything is perfect, but at least it should be much easier now to browse the library and find an article you'll enjoy.
2. I want to simplify this newsletter by cutting out my ancient structure of idea + content recommendation + inspiration. Instead, the issues from now on will be micro essays. Short and sweet like chocolates. The reason is that I don't want each email to feel as stuffed as a turkey on Thanksgiving. Sure, maybe I'll still include some content recommendations here, some things to ponder there. But only if they previously echoed through all of my brain chambers and I can't help but share them.

That said, I haven't felt this excited about writing in a long time and can't wait to share some fresh ideas with you.

The benefits of being clueless

I never knew what I wanted to be when I grow up. I also never knew what to do on a free Sunday morning, what book I should read next, or how to start my articles. Very often, I still don't know what I'll have for dinner twenty minutes into meshing random ingredients.

My natural instinct has always been to brush up on my uncertainty, like painting over dark spots on a white wall. I'd pretend I know exactly what to do with my life. How to navigate a foreign city. How to greet strangers. (Is it handshake, fist bump, hug, or kisses? Asking for a friend...) Because uncertainty, I've learned, is unsexy.

But here's the thing. Uncertainty, being clueless, not knowing the answer, feeling lost -- these things are like annoying guests at a party. They show up unexpectedly and stay much longer than you'd like. In other words, uncertainty will dip in and out of life -- regardless of age, profession, or money in your bank account.

That's why it seems rather strange to me to label uncertainty as a negative trait. If this is something that accompanies our entire lives (which it does) we shouldn't judge it or push it away like potatoes we didn't order. Instead, we might as well make the most of it.

First, we can acknowledge that uncertainty is what makes life exciting. A good life is not about eliminating uncertainty altogether; it's being uncertain about the right things. For instance, when I walked the Camino de Santiago last year, I may have known where to go (Santiago de Compostela) and what to do (just keep walking). But the great uncertainty that always remained was if my blistered feet would carry me until the end. Now, if I had known from the beginning that I'd make it, the journey would've lost any thrill. It's why most romcoms are so boring: you already know the protagonists are going to live happily ever after. But isn't it that the best episodes of television and life leave us completely clueless about what will happen next?

Along the same vein, uncertainty provides space to think and grow. I don't envy anyone who always knew what they wanted to do with their life. Because if their path was so clean and clear, there's a good chance it wasn't their path to begin with. It was someone else's. Something they were told by parents, teachers, or movies. Of course, it can be efficient to go down clear-cut paths and paved highways -- sometimes even necessary. But it's only through doubt and uncertainty that we consider fresh routes. A glimpse of what we really want.

Obviously, this is all easier said than done. Yes, uncertainty teaches. But it also tortures. As exciting as it can be not to know what happens next, it can quickly turn into an excruciating twist in the chest. Because the piercing problem that remains -- at least for me -- is, how the hell do you actually do it? How do you deal with those overwhelming questions, like, "What should I do with my life?", "Who do I want to spend my time with?", or "Who am I, really?"

Well, you don't.

At least that's what the Austrian poet Rainer Maria Rilke would advise. In a letter to his 19-year-old protégé, Franz Xaver Kappus, Rilke beautifully writes:

Maybe we should dare to live the questions rather than seek solutions. After all, asking questions with genuine sincerity seems far more exciting to me than pretending to have all the answers. And if the pang of uncertainty crashes the party, we might as well invite it for a cup of tea.

Until next time,

Stephan

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