You don’t need a five-year plan.
You need a spark. A hunch. A quiet thread of curiosity worth tugging on.
Most of us were raised to believe that the path forward should be clear, measurable, and locked in. You pick a major. You choose a job. You stay the course. But for those of us who think in questions, not conclusions, that kind of structure feels more like a cage than a compass.
The truth is, life rarely unfolds in straight lines. And for creative generalists, multipotentialites, and anyone who bristles at the idea of committing to one thing forever, a better approach might be this: treat your life like a series of small, low-stakes experiments.
Not experiments in the scientific sense—no lab coats or control groups required. Just intentional tests. Little shifts. Curious nudges. Ways of saying, “Let me try this and see what it teaches me.”
You don’t need certainty to move—you just need a reason to try.
What makes something an experiment instead of a life-altering decision? The stakes. You’re not betting your future on a single move. You’re exploring a possibility. Giving it shape and texture. Seeing how it fits.
Start a newsletter without promising to keep it forever.
Offer a service you’ve been secretly sketching in the back of your journal.
Block off your mornings for deep work and see what it changes.
Test a new workspace. A new rhythm. A new version of your voice.
These aren’t commitments—they’re clues. Each one leaves behind a trail of insight regarding what energized you, what drained you, what made you feel most like yourself.
That’s how direction starts—not with a master plan, but with small moves that reveal what fits.
Experiments lower the stakes so you can raise your awareness.
One of the most powerful things about an experimenting mindset is that it gives you permission to act without needing to be certain. You don’t have to know whether something will work. You just have to be willing to observe what happens.
You’re not trying to impress anyone.
You’re not even trying to get it “right.”
You’re looking for patterns. Preferences. Possibilities. The kind of insight that only shows up once you’re in motion.
Every experiment is a tiny act of trust in your future self—the version of you who will take what you learn and use it to shape what comes next.
The best experiments are simple, short, and specific.
Over the years, I’ve found that experiments work best when they’re reversible, doable, and reflective. In other words:
Can I undo this if it doesn’t work?
Can I try it in less than a week or in less than an hour a day?
Will it teach me something about how I think, work, or feel?
You don’t need to overhaul your whole business or pivot your entire path. You just need one thing to test. One hunch to follow. One idea to get out of your head and put into the world.
Clarity doesn’t come from thinking harder—it comes from paying attention.
Marie Forleo didn’t build her brand by mapping out a linear path. She explored. She tested. She danced—literally and figuratively. The clarity came later, through the act of trying.
That same permission is available to you.
Try something this week. Make it small. Make it light. Make it yours.
Let the outcome be a bonus. The real value is in what you’ll learn about what fits you best—not in theory, but in practice.
Ready to keep exploring?
If experimenting feels like your kind of progress, you’ll probably love the Refuse to Settle Manifesto.
It’s a short, clear starting point for designing a life and career that actually fits—on your terms.
Read the Manifesto and see what resonates. Take what you need. Leave the rest. There’s no one right way forward—only the one that works for you.
I love this so much. Each daring step leads to the next. It's a lighter (and still bold) way to be. This is a beautiful "antidote" to overthinking!
Not for Everyone. But maybe for you and your ‘Thinker’ patrons?
Hello Jenn,
I hope this finds you in a rare moment of stillness.
We hold deep respect for what you've built here—and for how.
We’ve just opened the door to something we’ve been quietly handcrafting for years.
Not for mass markets. Not for scale. But for memory and reflection.
Not designed to perform. Designed to endure.
It’s called The Silent Treasury.
A sanctuary where truth, judgment, and consciousness are kept like firewood—dry, sacred, and meant for long winters.
Where trust, vision, patience, and stewardship are treated as capital—more rare, perhaps, than liquidity itself.
The 3 inaugural pieces speak to quiet truths we've long engaged with:
1. The Hidden Costs of Clarity Culture — for long term, irreversible decisions
2. Why Judgment, ‘Signal’, and Trust Migrate Toward Niche Information Sanctuaries
3. Why many modern investment ecosystems (PE, VC, Hedge, ALT, spac, rollups) fracture before they root
These are not short, nor designed for virality.
They are multi-sensory, slow experiences—built to last.
If this speaks to something you've always felt but rarely seen expressed,
perhaps these works belong in your world.
One publication link is enclosed, should you choose to start experiencing…
https://helloin.substack.com/p/from-brightness-to-blindness-the?r=5i8pez
Warmly,
The Silent Treasury