Start Slow; Small Steps.
Our snorkel boat’s location on a map, surrounded by the bright blue expanse of the Coral Sea.
I sat on the edge of the snorkel platform, my legs dangling in the Great Barrier Reef. It was a June morning, the Coral Sea’s response to the start of winter marked by the cool water lapping against my skin. Bright blue water dotted with boats glistening under the Australian sun filled my line of vision in every direction, the sheer expanse of it all both beautiful and overwhelming.
I had fitted my feet into flippers, snapped the closures of my life jacket into place, and secured my snorkeling mask over my mouth and nose. I knew I was ready. There were no more steps to take other than the small scoot into the water. And yet. I was clinging to my time on the snorkel platform as if the longer I sat and surveyed my surroundings, somehow the water would get warmer and the sea would shrink.
Anticipation is a powerful emotion, and it has shaped much of my creative workflow. I often find myself dreaming up captivating curations of photos, powerful pieces of writing, immersive IRL moments for people to experience a brand in— the list goes on and on. Amidst all of it, it’s easy for me to give into the belief that my ambition will outswim me. That my “doing” will never be able to keep up with my “dreaming.” Maybe, reader, you’ve felt the same.
It’s important now to make one thing clear: much of the anticipation we feel towards starting is rooted not in an absence of ambition, but in the presence of pressure to perform with perfection. The problem with this may be obvious to you, reader, but I’ll say it out loud to myself as well as to anyone who may be glad for a gentle reminder: there is no perfection when it comes to dreams.
The last moments spent on the snorkel platform before swimming in the Great Barrier Reef.
What I mean is, that brand you admire will keep sharing campaigns so striking that you’ll wish you thought of it. That creator you follow will post a photo so beautifully composed that you’ll wish you took it. That founder you look up to will share a message so powerfully moving that you’ll wish you said it. As long as you’re on the snorkel platform, you’re practicing a perpetual watch-and-wait of everyone and everything, everywhere that you’re not. You’re on the edge of your seat, your legs may even be dangling in the water, but the cold is daunting and the expanse is overwhelming. There are a million ways you could go wrong— or maybe more relevant to your thought process, a million ways you could fall short of perfection. It feels like perhaps you should wait just a little longer, watch what they do for one more week, and then, surely, you’ll take that step.
Truth: the water may not get warmer, and the sea may never shrink. Start. Start slow. Take a small step— just one will do for now. Don’t stay on the snorkel platform— it was made to be a springboard for you to start swimming.
Your friend, Hannah Lathika David