A Lesson from Childhood

When I was a child, I was afraid of the dark.

At night, I would get thirsty. I needed to go to the kitchen for water. But the walk from my room seemed so long and scary.

In the day, the hall was fine. I played there. But at night, it changed. Everything looked different. I heard noises. I felt scared.

I stayed in my bed. I did not move. I was stuck.

I waited. I hoped my thirst would go away. But it did not.

So I had to do something.

I did not jump out of bed. I was not brave. I just did one tiny thing. I said to myself, "Put one foot down."

So I did.

Then I said, "Now stand up." I was still scared. It was still dark.

I reached out my hand. I touched the wall. The wall felt solid. I knew this wall. It would lead me to the kitchen.

I held onto the wall. I took a small step. Then another. I moved very slowly.

I was not looking. I was just feeling the wall and moving my feet.

Then I saw it. A little light from the kitchen. It was not a big light. But it was enough. It helped me see a little. I kept walking. Soon, I was in the kitchen. I got my water. I was not scared anymore.

The Grown-Up Parallel

Now I am grown. Sometimes I feel the same way. I have a problem. I cannot see what to do. I feel stuck. I want to see the whole answer before I start.

But I remember the dark hall. I remember the wall. I remember the small steps.

You do not need to see the end. You just need to hold on. And take one small step.

1. Stop Staring into the Fog

I used to just sit with my problems, worrying them over and over. I was convinced that if I just thought hard enough, the solution would finally show itself.

It never did. All I was doing was staring into a thick fog. The longer I looked, the more my imagination ran wild, conjuring monsters in the haze. I’d end up completely paralyzed, unable to move a muscle.

I remember a specific job problem that had me frozen. For days, I just sat there, making endless lists and imagining every possible way I could fail. I didn't take a single real action.

It completely drained me. The problem only grew bigger and more menacing in my mind. I wasn't working on a solution; I was just feeding my fear.

I don't do that anymore. Now, when I can't see what's ahead, I make myself look at what's right in front of me, something solid I can actually touch.

I tell myself, "This staring is getting you nowhere."

So I do one small, simple thing instead. Maybe I clean off my desk. Or I walk outside for five minutes. Sometimes, I just read one page of a book.

It always breaks the spell. The fog might still be there, but I'm not afraid of it anymore. I'm busy doing something tangible.

So remember: Don't fix your gaze on the distant, blurry unknown. Find one clear, small thing you can see and do right now.

2. Find the One Small Step

So you've managed to stop staring at the fog. That's a good first move. But then what?

I used to get stuck here, too. My mind would jump straight to the enormous final goal, and the sheer size of it felt like a weight on my chest. It made me want to quit before I'd even started.

Then I figured out the secret: Don't think about the whole mountain. Just look for the first pebble to kick.

I had a massive project once that I avoided for days because it felt so overwhelming.

Finally, I had a simple, clear thought: "You don't have to finish the project today. You just have to put on your shoes."

So I did. I just put on my shoes. That was the only task.

And something clicked inside me. I had started. That one tiny, physical action made the next small step feel possible.

This is how I operate now.

If a task feels too big, I find the absolute smallest starting point. If a walk feels too long, I just decide to walk to the first lamppost. If a room is a mess, I just put one single thing away.

Make your step so small it feels almost silly not to do it. So small that your resistance has nothing to push against.

Don't even think about step two or three. Just focus completely on step one. One small, simple action.

That's how you begin. That's how you move. One small step, then another.

3. Feel Your Way Forward

I used to crave a perfect, detailed plan for everything. I wanted a guaranteed map that showed every turn and landmark before I dared to take a single step.

But life, especially anything new, rarely hands you a map. It just doesn't work that way.

My attempt to start writing is a perfect example. I made grand plans and detailed outlines for months. But I never actually wrote anything. I was a prisoner of my own perfect plan.

So I changed my approach. I let the plan go. I committed to writing just one small thought. Then another.

And a funny thing happened. As I kept putting one word after another, the direction began to show itself. A comment from a reader would spark a new idea. One sentence would naturally lead to a question that became the next paragraph.

This is what I mean by feeling your way forward.

The first step is always the hardest. The next one is a little easier. Soon, you find a rhythm, and you're moving forward almost without thinking about it.

Don't wait for the perfect, foolproof plan. It's a mirage. Take one small step. Then, from your new position, you'll see what to do next.

The path isn't something you find before you walk. It's something you create with each step you take.

Conclusion: You Make the Path by Walking

So please remember: you will never see the whole way clearly before you start.

I know that stuck feeling. I've lived in that room, waiting for courage to arrive, waiting for the stars to align. But waiting never moved me an inch.

Here is what actually works:

First, tear your eyes away from the overwhelming big picture. That only feeds the fear.

Next, find one laughably small action you can take. Something as simple as putting one foot on the floor.

Then do it. And find the next small thing.

Before you know it, you're moving. The way forward gets clearer not as you stare, but as you walk. You literally build the path by walking it.

This is my practice now. When I feel stuck, I don't look for motivation. I look for the one tiny, physical action I can do. Then I do another.

You can do this, too. You don't need a surge of bravery to begin. You just need to begin, and the bravery will find you along the way.

Don't search for the path. Start walking, and watch it form behind you with every step.