WEEK 26: The Seed Never Looks Like the Harvest
- Glen Jensen
- Jul 8
- 3 min read
Perfection is a freeze response. Carrots start as dust.
When Perfection Freezes the Field
Perfectionism doesn’t just delay action - it disguises avoidance as strategy.
It makes hesitation feel like wisdom.
But what you’ve labeled “not ready” may just be “not willing to be seen beginning.”
And what protects you in the short term can cost you momentum long-term.
You don’t need more time.
You need to move - with what you have, as you are.
You’re Not Waiting - You’re Withholding
Fear of imperfection is persuasive.
It tells you to be responsible. To get it right. To hold back just a little longer.
But waiting becomes withholding when it’s no longer about readiness - it’s about hiding.
From mess. From feedback. From feeling new again.
Real Farmers Don’t Wait for Perfect Weather
A farmer doesn’t wait for blue skies or the perfect forecast.
They check the dirt.
Feel the wind.
And plant.
Weeks ago, you laid the scaffolding:
This is the week that uses what you've built - not just to hold you, but to move you.
You’ve built the floor. That’s why this risk isn’t reckless.
The Only Way Out Is Through the Mess
🌱 The 72-Hour Ugly Start Protocol
Name the thing.
Name it without drama. Name it without hiding.
Start within 72 hours — badly.
No desk organizing. No new gear. No moodboard.
Just start. Rough edges welcome.
Document it.
A journal entry. A screenshot. A whisper in a voice memo.
You don’t need praise. You need proof.
Optional — but powerful:
Film a video for yourself. One take. No script.
Speak to who you’ll be one year from now.
*Upload it as Private. Schedule it to go live one year from today.
If that feels like too much, write it. Record it.
But make it real. And make it soon.
Because a start you won’t witness isn’t really a start.
Carrot Seeds and Crooked Stitches
A carrot seed looks like dust. A fragment. A nothing.
But the farmer plants it anyway - because they know what it becomes.
In the Forbidden City, master artisans left a deliberate flaw in every perfect piece.
Not because they couldn’t fix it - but because to aim for perfection was to insult the divine.
Let your first version be that flaw.
A signal of humility. Of reverence.
Not for the audience. Not for applause.
Just for the soil.
Dusty seeds. Beautiful harvest.
For the Shelf Beside the Soil
The War of Art
- Steven Pressfield
Finish
- Jon Acuff
Skim a chapter. Then go plant something imperfect.
Wisdom That Knows What Dirt Is For
“The seed must be buried in darkness before it can bloom in the light.”
-Folk Wisdom
“You cannot edit a blank page.”
-Jodi Picoult
“Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.”
-Arthur Ashe
Choose one. Write it on a post-it. Let it work on you in the background.
This Is the Line in the Dirt
You don’t need to feel confident.
You don’t need to feel clear.
You need to begin. And mean it.
The tourist waits for perfect conditions.
The farmer checks the sky, shrugs, and plants anyway.
You don’t have to farm every day.
But if this is your season — plant.
You’ve Planted. Now Let’s Learn to Finish.
You’ve got the floor.
You’ve planted the seed.
Next week: we finish — not for applause, but for completion.
This newsletter is the map.
Coaching is the terrain.
When you’re ready — I’ll meet you in the field.
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