“I used to think when you had a decision to make,” Coach Steve says, “when you needed to say yes or no to something, that it was the right thing to do to decide. If I couldn’t decide, I’d feel bad—like I was just procrastinating, or chicken, or disorganized… that I should instead be a strong, smart leader and just make fast decisions.”
I say, “Oh, yes, like what management gurus used to say, ‘Don’t worry so much about making a RIGHT decision—make a decision and then make it right!’”
“Yes,” he says, “there can be a tremendous amount of pressure from the outside or from yourself. But now my thinking on this has evolved. I no longer see it as only two options, A or B—yes or no. There is a valid, legitimate third option—wait for clarity.”
That sentence lands in my mind, gut, and heart, all at the same time.
Because so many of us were taught that not deciding is a failure of character. That if we pause, we must be weak. That if we hesitate, we must be afraid. And yet, lived experience tells a different story.
There is a kind of waiting that is avoidance—and there is a kind of waiting that is wisdom.
One feels restless and tight, filled with self-criticism and mental noise. The other feels alert, grounded, and more like I’m connected rather than disconnected.
Waiting for clarity doesn’t mean disengaging from life. It doesn’t mean checking out or putting your head in the sand. It means (and requires) staying present long enough for more information to arrive—internally or externally. It means noticing what is unfolding instead of forcing an answer.
Once you realize you’re in that third option—waiting for clarity—you’re not powerless. There are small, intentional actions that support the process of becoming clear. You might make a simple pros-and-cons list, not to force a decision but to see what emerges. You might meditate, take a long walk, or pray—not for an answer, but for insight and guidance. You could talk with a trusted mentor, journal honestly, or even use tools like ChatGPT to explore angles you hadn’t considered. These aren’t ways to rush clarity; they’re ways to signal your intention: I’m paying attention.
One of my mottos is “velocity is a function of clarity.” If you feel stuck in any area of life, be more intentional about gaining clarity.
“Carpe Diem” is often translated as seize the day, but it doesn’t mean rush the day. It means be awake to it. Fully present. Fully attentive. Fully alive to what this moment is asking of you.
And this same wisdom applies to writing a book.
Many people delay writing because they’re “not clear yet”—about the message, the structure, or whether now is the right time. They assume clarity must come first.
But writing is often how clarity arrives.
You don’t write a book because everything is settled. You write because something in you is asking to be heard. The page becomes a place of discernment, where meaning takes shape one sentence at a time.
If the idea of a book keeps returning, it may not be a yes or a no you’re waiting for. It may be that third option again—the quiet invitation to begin gently and see what reveals itself.
Carpe Diem doesn’t mean finishing the book today. It simply means honoring the nudge.
And perhaps the clearest next step is not deciding whether to write— but opening the door and letting the words meet you there.
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