At the end of a long strategic planning retreat, there’s a moment our team at Creation in Common has come to recognize well. The room is tired—deeply, honestly tired—from a day spent in creative collaboration. People have stretched beyond their usual roles, listened harder than they normally do, and begun to articulate a fragile, emerging story about what the world might need next.
And then comes the question: What happens now?
We usually respond by naming the next steps, and then asking the group to let us (the facilitators in the room) hold the ambiguity they’re feeling. That request often lands with a mix of relief and discomfort. Relief because someone is acknowledging what they are feeling in the room. Discomfort because, beneath the exhaustion, there’s a strong desire for certainty. That gap, the space between insight and execution, can feel unsettling. When we offer to carry the ambiguity for a while, we’re not avoiding action. We’re signaling that this moment matters. That we are still inside a larger process. And that this ambiguity is not a problem to be solved too quickly. There is still deeper understanding to be uncovered.
Our society’s bias toward action often convinces us that ambiguity, the awkward, liminal space between the old story and the new one we’re beginning to imagine, is just procrastination in disguise. It isn’t. Research on group creativity consistently shows that ideation and evaluation exist in real tension with one another. Creating something that is both novel and useful requires not just momentum, but reflection. Stepping forward and stepping back. What makes this even harder is that we’re never doing this work in a vacuum. Change, disruption, noise, and the competing insights and motivations of real people are arriving in real time. They aren’t patiently waiting for a perfectly articulated vision. They demand responses today.
And yet, it’s precisely inside this uncomfortable, messy, in-between space that deeper insights can emerge, if we can stay with it. This is where ambiguity becomes an advantage.
Psychologist Jack Kornfield offers a helpful practice for navigating moments like this, drawing on a core Buddhist teaching he shares in The Wise Heart. He calls it RAIN:
- Recognize
Notice the discomfort you’re feeling in the face of ambiguity. What thoughts are arising? How does your body respond? - Accept
Remind yourself that you are okay. That you can be with these thoughts and sensations, even when they’re difficult or unfamiliar. - Investigate
Get curious. Explore the ambiguity in all its forms. What might it be trying to teach you? What haven’t you seen yet? This is where your creative self is most needed. - Non-Identify
Reflect on what’s shifted. Observe how your relationship to the ambiguity has changed, even subtly. Notice that it doesn’t define you—it’s something you’re moving through.
Like any meaningful practice, this takes repetition, patience, and….trust. What it ultimately offers is not certainty, but the ability to stay present long enough for something more honest to emerge.