Uncertainty, Risk, and the Self

The only certainty in life is the actions we will take. We can say nothing of their outcome. But we can take action. We have control over that. For example, my major goal for this new year is to become fluent in Icelandic. That is a goal, and it will not happen unless I do something about it. So, I’ve been reading my old books. I’ve spent about five hours reading the first one page. I have five pages of notes. And I did learn quite a lot. My action was reading intentionally, taking notes, and committing to making this a habit.

Similarly, I want to see this gallery project my friend and I started to the end. I gave away many of my shifts at work, and I will ask my supervisor — when I see her on Monday — to give me Wednesdays and Fridays off. I will use that time to work on my gallery, my next book, studying, and everything else I want to do. The risk, of course, is that this gallery doesn’t work out, that I’m not able to write, that older Icelandic doesn’t click, that I sacrifice too much income.

The question is, however, do any of those worst-case outcomes matter? I think what separates passion from ambition is the process. Ambition says, “I will achieve this”; passion says, “This brings me meaning, joy, and purpose.” There’s nothing wrong with having both, but I’ll say that passion is the important one.

In the few short weeks I’ve been making these adjustments to my life, I can already see the world around me changing. Most simply, I feel better. I’m working towards achieving my dreams and enjoying the process. One project has already failed — before it even started, thankfully — because the person I wanted to start it with forgot about our meetings. Twice. So, rather than pushing them to get themself together, I chose to reason: they must not be thinking actively about the project, and they must therefore not be excited about it. Well, so be it. I’ll move along. I will keep on moving. I will not allow myself to become stuck. I used our scheduled meeting times to study Icelandic instead.

I did my first photoshoot in years a few weeks ago, and that inspired me to go out and buy a new camera, finally. It was an alright price, but rather than justifying the price, I simply acknowledge that it will let me take more pictures. I want to take pictures, not sit on money. Photography brings me joy, not a bank account.

I wrote some time ago against the modern world’s idea of “next, next, next.” People are always in a rush to get things done, move on to the next thing, and advance. As I said, that’s a matter of pure ambition: the will to succeed. But when it comes to passion, there is no such thing as a proper pace. Everything happens as it happens, and we must run with that. If I want to take a day off, I do. If I want to spend my entire day working on these things, I do. Perhaps the key here is that there is no pressure. It’s my life on my terms. What does a new and better job matter? What does others’ perception of me matter? I get to be myself because I take control of life. Thus, my job becomes nothing more than a means to an end.

In that way, the “secondary” work becomes more enjoyable. When I show up to work having spent the day before working on my passions, I am in a better mood. That mood shows and brings the overall mood up. Even if it isn’t the best day, I know that I’ll have time soon enough to return to what I enjoy. It’s all a matter of embracing the self, not allowing circumstance to get the better of us.

An argument could be made saying that not everyone has the luxury of time. Some people must work to a draining degree: to pay off debts, pay their bills, support their families, make up for lower income. This comes down to such a case-by-case basis that I won’t address this issue directly. Rather, I’ll say that we should prioritize our well-being above all else, as best as we can. After all, what is the point of anything if life is going to be a sad, dull drag? I believe there are solutions to be found.

The last thing I want to say is that nothing is so difficult. In less than a year, how did I manage all the things that I accomplished? I simply talked to everyone I knew. “I’m doing this,” and, “I want to do this,” and, “we should do this.” That’s how it all started. Specifically, it all started when I uttered the phrase, “Want to start a writing group?” That was on the 6th of June, 2024.

Now, on January 3rd, the cofounder and I met with our first artist, a good friend of mine, to continue our gallery project in full force. The meeting went phenomenally well. Then, we came up with a name for our project, planned the next few steps, and had a great conversation about life and art. A message here, a message there, a whole lot of passion and some great people, and voila: a collective art gallery/community is born. It still amazes me to think of how real this all feels — the fact that in literally one month, everything went from a mere idea to actual fruition.

What will happen next? Who knows. Life loves its twists and turns. And as I’m dealing with right now, its circles, too. What a wild, crazy ride. Once again: we may as well enjoy it.

I found some unfinished poems from a few months ago. In the light of recent events, I decided to finish one last week using my current perspective on the events it was originally written about:

The sun's gaze weakens to the sounds of the wind, taking away the duty of giving name to the day and darkness to the night. Closing clouds constrict its smile, final scenes of grimaced lips whose corners turn to frown. Unannounced is the night. Unfinished is the day. Incomplete are the thoughts left turning in the mind still yet to be turned to sound. Tomorrow is to come. Today is set. Undefined is the moment that steals the breath and quickens the heart. Uncertainty; and unknown.

The wind brings with it gentle rains who fall to faces looking up, lost to awe and forced to see the force of nature, tears born free. The course of life is course enough, no night predicts the day. The sky is certain, ever clear, whatever comes between. And the sun is ever distant: lost in memory. The cold reminds me of the warmth of smiles. The emptiness reminds me of the warmth of company. The stars I’ve yet not given name remind me of the sun who came so close to warm me.

I would change it now — only one week later as life would have it — by adding one final line:

Yet would I not shiver, would the light of dawn not turn the morning dew to diamonds.

Forget the gallery and everything else I am planning or working towards. All that aside, in a word, I am hopeful. What else matters?