Quiet Clarity is a 2x/week newsletter and podcast for people who want to build a life of presence, depth, and deliberate intention.

Do you ever feel like you’re in this weird middle ground where every opportunity seems like "the one”, but nothing seems to work?

You have no clear signs of what to do, just this vague idea of what you want to become.

Is it to impress people? To stand out? Or do you actually want to build something that matters?

The perfect opportunity feels like it's just around the corner, but how will you know what perfect is until you've experienced the rest?

What if clarity doesn't come from thinking, but from doing?

How many arrows are you willing to shoot before you find your aim?

In high school, I wanted to be an entrepreneur so badly.

I'd spin up drop-shipping sites, sell things door-to-door, try anything that seemed promising.

Built an e-commerce jewelry store—failed.

Started a chess academy—worked, but wasn't THE thing.

Launched multiple drop-shipping sites—one kind of worked, most didn't.

I wanted to be a web developer for so long, until I actually tried it.

Some ventures drained my energy, so I knew they weren't for me.

Others were fun but didn't work out—still useful information.

The chess academy showed me something unexpected: I loved building something on my own.

Only by actually doing things did I see what aligned with my energy versus what I thought should.

What if all those "failures" were actually arrows teaching me how to aim?

There was once a young archer who dreamed of hitting the perfect shot.

He trained in the mountains, studied every technique, obsessed over theory.

But when he finally stepped into a real battlefield, he hesitated.

The winds were unpredictable. The targets moved. Nothing was like he'd imagined.

Frustrated, he met an old warrior who laughed at his struggle.

"You can't aim at the perfect shot until you've missed a hundred imperfect ones."

So the young archer stopped waiting.

He shot. And missed.

Again. And again.

But with every arrow, he adjusted.

His aim got sharper. His instincts got better.

Until one day, without thinking—he hit the perfect shot.

The old warrior knew what the young archer had to learn: perfection isn't found in planning, but in practicing.

Every missed arrow taught him about wind patterns.

Every failed shot showed him his stance needed adjusting.

Every imperfect attempt brought him closer to mastery.

The battlefield revealed what the mountain training never could.

Am I waiting for the perfect shot, or am I willing to miss my way to mastery?

I've developed the Stab and Filter Framework:

Take a stab at multiple things—your job isn't to find perfection immediately.

Filter out what doesn't bring energy/results—each attempt teaches you what doesn't work.

Commit to what aligns—when something clicks, go deeper.

The hardest part isn't discovering what brings you energy.

It's figuring out how to align it with making money.

When I started this newsletter, the initial excitement wore off quickly.

Some days I didn't feel like writing. Some pieces felt off.

But I kept shooting arrows.

Now I love writing here.

There's no formula for how long to stick with something.

But at least push past the initial hype phase before quitting.

That's when you discover if it truly aligns with your highest energy.

You can't expect to find "the thing" immediately.

It's a process of trying, refining, adjusting your aim.

Analysis paralysis keeps you in the mountains, perfecting theory.

But clarity comes from the battlefield, from actual attempts.

Stop waiting for the perfect opportunity to reveal itself. Start shooting arrows. Miss proudly. Adjust wisely. Because your perfect shot is hiding somewhere in those hundred imperfect ones.