Desperately Seeking Certainty

I recently watched the Oscar-nominated film Conclave, a fictional, behind-the-scenes account of what will take place on May 7th, when the process of choosing a new pope begins. The significance of this event brings to mind the symbolic colour of smoke—something I remember vividly from my time anchoring CNN's coverage of the death of Pope John Paul II. Grey signified indecision, while white heralded the declaration of a new leader. For centuries, that smoke has come to symbolise certainty, marking a new chapter for the Church.

In the film, there was one particular speech that caught my attention. It would be where Cardinal Lawrence, played by Ralph Fiennes, talks about the concept of certainty. He says: “Over the course of many years in the service of our mother the Church, let me tell you, there is one sin I have come to fear above all others: certainty. Certainty is the great enemy of unity. Certainty is the deadly enemy of tolerance. Even Christ was not certain at the end. “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” he cried out in his agony at the ninth hour on the cross. Our faith is a living thing precisely because it walks hand in hand with doubt. If there was only certainty and no doubt, there would be no mystery, and therefore no need for faith. Let us pray that God will grant us a pope who doubts.”

In my coaching practice, I often meet clients in the grip of uncertainty, desperate for the certainty that comes with knowing everything is or will be ok. They want answers. They want guarantees. And most of all, they want to feel sure before they take any steps forward. In fact, it is the presence of uncertainty that would lead many to feel stuck, handcuffed even, by the lack of certainty that life provides. That search for certainty comes in the form of statements like, "I will be happy when...", or "I will know I have succeeded when...".

On any given day, on any given situation, and in any given goal, there are certain emotional needs that drive us. In my coaching, I use a framework whereby there are six main emotional needs that dictate the decisions we make in life and how we make them. They are the drivers of our thoughts, beliefs, and patterns of behaviour. The American psychologist Abraham Maslow taught us that before we can thrive, the need we must first satisfy is that of safety which includes—being fed, housed, loved--only then can we look towards growth and self actualisation. The emotional needs draw upon Maslow's theory but takes it further to focus on our emotional drivers. They include our needs for: certainty, variety, significance, connection, growth, and contribution. Unlike Maslow’s pyramid, there’s no fixed order here. Each of us prioritises these needs differently, certain needs will show up more depending on what area of our life we are looking at, and how we meet those needs shapes everything—from the goals we set to the risks we avoid.

We live in a time where uncertainty abounds. Everywhere we look we can see that what was once certain isn't. From a generation that spent a lifetime in one job to jobs that haven't even been created yet. It goes even further to deeply held beliefs that were shared by mostly everyone including: that hard work would lead to success; that relationships would last if you loved hard enough; that stability meant safety; that adulthood came with clarity; that identity was fixed, not to mention gender roles. Even nature doesn't show us that certainty we had come to expect with the seasons.

So how do we navigate our way through life knowing that the only certainty, aside from death and taxes, is uncertainty?

It begins with learning how to dance.

Being agile with our emotions and expectations enables us to respond to situations with dexterity. How we do that is by understanding our values.

If life is a dance with uncertainty, then our values are the steps we move to no matter the rhythm. They guide our choices, our reactions, our ability to pivot when the music changes unexpectedly. Knowing what is authentically important to us, what we hold dear, what is aligned with that very clear voice within (the voice that often gets drowned out by that of others), is what will soothe the frayed nerves battered by the fears of the unknown and unfamiliar.

It took me a long time to realise that the certainty I was searching for wasn't going to come from a title, a salary, a relationship status, or the keys to a house. In fact, they didn't.

The world had told me that's where certainty lived — in things you could prove, measure, own. And being a child of immigrants and being an immigrant myself, those were the things that could prove my worth in a new country. That's what I was taught.

But real certainty — the kind that steadies you when everything else feels shaky — comes from knowing what truly matters to us.

For me, when it comes to my work it comes to down to having autonomy. Being able to be present for my son. Staying curious about human nature. Making a difference to the incredible clients I work with. Being close to nature. Constantly growing. Earning a living doing what I love to do.

In life, my values aren't very different. They mainly focus on family and my home.

Those are my guiding principles. My anchor.

When we lose sight of our North Star, our guiding principles, we chase, we grasp at straws, believing they would make us feel secure because in feeling secure we feel we have control of our life.

But certainty doesn't come from chasing. It comes from choosing. From getting clear on what matters most — and having the determination to go after it, again and again, no matter how noisy the world gets no matter how shaky the ground. It's as Dr. Ellen Langer, Professor of Psychology at Harvard says, " "Rather than waste your time being stressed over making the right decision, make your decision right."

We chase certainty in the hopes that we will avoid pain. In the hopes that life is smooth. We run from discomfort because we are not equipped to sit with it. To understand it. To listen to it and learn what it is trying to tell us.

Maybe that discomfort is telling us that we are in unfamiliar territory and that is exactly where we need to be.

Maybe that resistance we feel is actually a sign that we are outgrowing a life that isn't serving us anymore.

Maybe that pain is asking us, prodding us even, to consider how much more of the same are we willing to accept?

But there is one thing of which we can be certain. We cannot outrun pain.

You see, the unfamiliar is perhaps exactly where we need to be in order to live that life which we dream. Certainty will not get us there. After all, you can't expect a different result doing the same thing and making the same choices right? And the fears we feel? They're to be expected--that is definitely something you of which you can be certain. But they aren't facts. Our emotions are real, but they aren't always reliable reflections of the truth. They’re simply information shaped by our past experiences and expectations.

Some of the most joyous emotions we experience — hope, anticipation, love, excitement, gratitude — only exist because the outcome isn't certain.

After all, the very nature of hope and anticipation is that something wonderful might happen — but it’s not guaranteed.

Think of children on Christmas Eve: it’s not just about knowing presents will appear. It's the excitement of imagining what could be waiting for them. The wonder, the guessing, the possibility.

If they knew exactly what was coming, exactly when and how, without any surprise or magic left, they wouldn’t wake up at the crack of dawn, bursting with excitement.

The same is true of love. By its very nature, love is uncertain. Even in marriage. It’s not a given — it’s a choice we make every day to nurture, support, and grow with someone.

Love, like life, is unpredictable. And it’s that unpredictability that makes it so precious — something never to be taken for granted.

Without doubt we would never refine our approach to things; we wouldn't prepare for the unexpected; we would never keep learning. Without uncertainty we would never take risks. Without uncertainty we would never change careers or push ourselves to get that job we always wanted. Without uncertainty, I wouldn't have my son, I wouldn't have this life in the countryside that I so cherish. I wouldn't be a coach, a career that brings me more fulfilment than I have ever felt. It all comes with a price--everything does and if you're self-employed you'll understand that uncertainty is ever-present--but believing in what is possible allows me to dance with that uncertainty.

Believing in what's possible doesn't mean I am oblivious to the very real fears of not being able to pay bills. It's one of the most primal fears we face, and when you're unemployed or self-employed, the only certainty might be the thought of “just get a job.” But even a job today isn't a guarantee for having that job tomorrow.

The key is to stop fighting the uncertainty, and instead, use it to fuel your curiosity. Being curious of what this moment is showing you and and exploring how you can respond in a way that is different from the process that got you to this place will take what I like to call creative thinking. There is a lot of wisdom deep within us we just never respect our creativity and imagination enough to take it seriously. We believe other people's opinions, fears, and insecurities before our own knowing of what is right for us.

My husband and I are both self-employed so that uncertainty is ever-present for us. We are constantly moving between our fight or flight response and wanting to keep expanding this unconventional life that we are continually building day by day. But this is the price we pay for making the choice to honour one of our values and that is to be present parents for our son and working from home. My husband loves his spreadsheets--it's how he works through the uncertainties he feels. I would like to say I bring in perspectives and solutions he may not have considered before. Together we try to work through it all without losing our grip on what is a real fear and what isn't. You see, when our body perceives a threat, whether real or imagined, it activates the fight-or-flight response—the survival mechanism that is hardwired into our nervous system. Our body’s fight-or-flight response floods us with stress hormones, narrowing our focus and shutting down rational and creative thinking. This makes us react impulsively rather than thinking things through clearly.

Does it mean my husband and I are comfortable with financial insecurity? Hell no. But we've had to learn to move with it — to build the muscles of hope, trust, creative thinking, and action. Muscles that keep us from spiralling into fear and help us make choices that could shape a better tomorrow. I keep asking myself, "What might this situation be asking of me?" That one question pulls me out of fight-or-flight, reminds my body that it's safe, and opens up the space I need to think and act clearly.

Hope, trust, and faith — whether you're religious or not — aren't about guaranteeing an outcome. They're about creating the calm we need when certainty isn't available. They're what allow us to steady our nervous system, step out of reactivity, and respond in proactive ways.

We all crave something to hold on to when everything feels uncertain. We're all waiting for that white smoke to appear miraculously in the sky as if to point the way forward. But perhaps it's not about that definitive sign to hold on to—perhaps it's about learning how to move when we can't find the definitive answers. It's about noticing and feeling the discomfort, acknowledging the fear, and choosing to put one step in front of the other anyway.

Because life isn’t meant to be mastered—it’s meant to be lived.

And if we can live it by the values that matter most to us—whatever they may be—and add curiosity to the mix, we may not always feel certain, but we will feel rooted. And in those moments of doubt or fear, we can return to those values like a compass, pointing us toward what matters, directing us toward a way forward that may not be mapped out but worth a courageous try.

As Susan David writes in Emotional Agility, “Courage is fear walking.”

So we walk.

With hope.

With trust.

With aligned action.

Not because we’re certain of the outcome but because we know that the next step, however uncertain, when based on what truly drives us, is the one we’re meant to take.

Monita xo

If you're not sure what your values are, start here:

You don’t need to have a perfect answer. Just curiosity. Here are a few questions to sit with—not to impress anyone, not to check boxes, but to hear the quiet voice inside that often gets drowned out by noise or expectations.

You might journal them. Or walk with them. Or just let them simmer.

1. What moments in my life have made me feel most alive?

Think back—not just to achievements, but to feelings. A conversation, a project, a risk you took. What mattered to you in that moment?

2. When have I felt out of place or out of alignment?

These are often the moments where something important to you was being ignored or stepped on. What felt “off”? What felt missing?

3. What do I long for—not just to get, but to give?

Sometimes our deepest values are tied not to what we want to receive, but what we hope to offer the world.

4. If I weren’t afraid of failing, what would I try?

The answer often points toward what we value—growth, freedom, creativity, contribution—but are too afraid to honour.

5. What do I want to be known for, by the people who matter most to me?

Strip away status and ego. What qualities would you want to be remembered for?

This isn’t about finding the “right” answer. It’s about getting closer to your answer. And it’s okay if it doesn’t come all at once. Let it unfold. Keep asking. Keep listening.