28/08/2025
✨Follow up thoughts about starting the journey of sharing my writing...
The Stepping Stones of Thought (Kirsty Kell)
Sometimes I look back on things I once thought were profound and now wince at how infantile they seem. What once felt like deep truth now makes me blush with embarrassment. And yet, I know I couldn’t have reached where I am today without those earlier steps. They were necessary. They were mine.
It’s not just in my journals or old essays — even scrolling back through old Facebook posts can make me cringe. Things I thought were funny, clever, or important at the time now look awkward or overblown. And yet, they were part of me in that moment. They carried me here.
That awareness carries a paradox: what feels true to me today may one day feel simplistic, naïve, or even nonsensical. I may look back at these very words with the same embarrassed smile. And I feel the fear of that even as I write.
This is what makes sharing my reflections so vulnerable. Every time I put my words into the world, I know they are only half-formed truths — the stepping stones of today. They may not hold up to tomorrow’s wisdom. And yet, if I wait until my thoughts are polished, finished, undeniable, I risk never speaking at all. Perfectionism would keep me stuck on the bank, unmoving.
I suspect I’m not alone in this. Many of us silence ourselves because of the imagined voice of our future self: “What if this looks foolish later? What if people see me as naïve now?” But growth has always required a trail of outgrown skins — words, ideas, and versions of ourselves that no longer fit.
Perhaps this is what wisdom really is: not having the final word, but being willing to speak the provisional word. To say, “This feels true for me right now,” knowing it may not always. To risk embarrassment later for the sake of honesty now.
Because each stone we lay is not just for us. It is also a gift for the person behind us, who needs exactly that half-formed truth to take their next step. What seems infantile in hindsight may have been essential to someone else in the moment.
So I will keep writing. Not because my words are perfect or permanent, but because they are alive right now. And because even if I outgrow them, they might serve as a bridge for someone else.
Maybe the courage is not in writing truths that will last forever, but in daring to share the stepping stones of today, and trusting they will lead us somewhere we cannot yet see.
— Reflections by Kirsty Kell