The clarity of the adjacent possible

The Question

We are constantly exhorted to find our ‘why,’ to articulate a grand vision, to plot out a detailed five-year plan. The promise is clarity: if only we knew precisely where we were going, every decision would fall into place. But for many, this pursuit of ultimate clarity often leads to paralysis. The horizon is too vast, the future too uncertain. We become stuck, unable to take the first step because we can’t see the last. Is genuine clarity truly found in the distant, fixed destination, or is there a more grounded, emergent path to knowing what matters?

Consider the entrepreneur who spends years perfecting a business plan for a venture that may never launch, paralyzed by the sheer scope of what could be. Or the writer who dreams of a magnum opus but can’t begin the first chapter, overwhelmed by the weight of the complete work. This isn’t laziness; it’s a rational response to an impossible demand for perfect foresight. Our intuition tells us that a clear vision is essential, but experience often shows that trying to define everything upfront leads to defining nothing with conviction. We’re caught between the desire for a well-lit path and the reality of navigating through fog, making the tension between rigid foresight and agile adaptation a critical one for anyone seeking to make meaningful progress.

The Argument

The idea that clarity emerges not from a fixed, distant vision but from exploring the ‘adjacent possible’ offers a powerful alternative. This concept, popularized by biologist Stuart Kauffman, describes the space of all things that are one step away from what currently exists. Think of it like a library: you can only read the books on the shelves next to you, not every book in the entire library at once. Each book you read, however, opens up new adjacent shelves. Applied to personal or professional development, this means that the most effective way to gain clarity is not by trying to predict the entire journey, but by intelligently exploring the immediate next steps.

This approach aligns with how complex systems actually evolve. Breakthroughs in science, art, and innovation rarely come from a pre-ordained master plan, but from iterative exploration of what becomes possible next. For instance, a new technology often enables a slightly newer one, which then opens doors to applications that were previously unimaginable. The invention of the wheel led to carts, which led to roads, which led to trade routes – none of these were fully envisioned when the first wheel was conceived. Each step clarified the next adjacent possibility. Embracing the adjacent possible fosters a dynamic clarity, where understanding deepens with each action rather than demanding perfect understanding before any action is taken. It transforms clarity from a destination to a process, a continuous unfolding of understanding as you engage with the world. This iterative approach reduces the cognitive load of needing to predict a distant future, allowing for more focused and effective action in the present. This concept is beautifully articulated in Steven Johnson’s Where Good Ideas Come From, where he illustrates how innovation thrives by recombining existing elements and exploring the immediate next steps, rather than grand, top-down designs.

The Counterpoint

A thoughtful skeptic might argue that relying solely on the ‘adjacent possible’ is a recipe for aimlessness, a lack of strategic direction that could lead to wandering without purpose. Without a clear long-term vision, how do you ensure that each ‘adjacent step’ is actually leading somewhere meaningful, rather than just drifting from one small opportunity to the next? The danger, they would say, is that you might optimize for immediate gratification or minor improvements, losing sight of truly transformative goals that require sustained, directed effort over a long period. Furthermore, some might contend that certain grand challenges – like building a complex piece of software or launching a global non-profit – absolutely require a detailed roadmap and a compelling ultimate vision to motivate action and coordinate diverse efforts. Without a north star, even the most diligent exploration of adjacent possibilities could become fragmented, inefficient, and ultimately lead to a less impactful outcome. They would assert that true clarity demands both the immediate step and the distant destination, held in a productive tension.

While the concern about aimlessness is valid, the strength of the adjacent possible lies in its capacity for emergent clarity, not a complete abandonment of direction. The concession is that a loose sense of desired direction is helpful, but this differs from a rigidly defined destination. The adjacent possible doesn’t preclude a general sense of purpose; it simply suggests that the detailed path to that purpose will reveal itself through action and discovery. What survives the objection is that rigid, pre-ordained plans often crumble under the weight of real-world complexity and unforeseen variables. By exploring the adjacent possible, we maintain flexibility, learn from each step, and refine our understanding of what truly matters as we go, making our overall journey more resilient and genuinely aligned with an evolving reality.

What To Do With It

Instead of trying to draw a detailed map of your entire future, focus on identifying the single most sensible, achievable next step in one area where you seek clarity. This isn’t about setting arbitrary small goals; it’s about discerning what emerges as possible from your current state. If you’re struggling with a career path, don’t try to outline your entire ten-year trajectory. Instead, identify one skill you could learn this month, one person you could talk to, or one small project you could start that might illuminate a new adjacent path. If you’re trying to write a book, don’t focus on the publishing deal; focus on completing the next chapter, then the next. Each completed chapter reveals new possibilities for the plot, characters, or even the overall direction of the story. This practice builds momentum and provides genuine feedback, allowing your vision to clarify organically. The discipline is in trusting that the next step, carefully chosen, will reveal the right next step after that, far more effectively than any amount of distant speculation.

What is the smallest, most immediate action that could open up a new possibility for you this week?

Sources

• Steven Johnson — Where Good Ideas Come From