There’s something kind of funny about an inchworm.
It doesn’t look brave.
It doesn’t move fast.
It doesn’t seem especially prepared for much of anything.
It just reaches forward, pulls the rest of itself along, and somehow, little by little, it gets somewhere.
I was thinking about that while drawing this little inchworm sitting on a leaf and looking up at the moon.
He isn’t conquering anything.
He isn’t charging toward some enormous goal.
He’s simply facing something much bigger than he is.
And the more I worked on the drawing, the more I thought that might be a pretty good picture of what starting something new actually looks like.
Not dramatic.
Not confident.
Not fearless.
Just one small move forward.
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Waiting to Feel Ready
I think a lot of us wait to begin because we think we’re supposed to feel ready first.
We imagine courage arriving before the first step.
Maybe one morning we’ll wake up, everything will suddenly make sense, and we’ll think:
“Yep. Today I’m fearless.”
That has never really been my experience.
Most things I’ve started that mattered to me began while I still had doubts.
I started while I still wondered if I was good enough.
I started while part of me was quietly saying:
“This could go badly.”
And sometimes it did.
But something changes once you move.
The fear doesn’t necessarily disappear.
It just stops being the only thing in the room.
One Line at a Time
That’s one of the things I enjoy about drawing something simple like an inchworm.
There’s no enormous moment.
No heroic leap.
There’s just one line.
Then another.
Then another.
And if I mess one up?
The page doesn’t care.
I keep going.
Eventually, all those little marks become something that didn’t exist before.
That’s what starting often looks like in real life too.
It isn’t proving that you’re ready.
It isn’t knowing exactly where you’ll end up.
It’s simply giving yourself permission to make the first small mark.
Small Beginnings Count
We tend to picture progress as something big.
A new career.
A finished book.
A business.
A YouTube channel.
A painting.
A major life change.
But most of those things begin in ways that barely look important at the time.
One page.
One sketch.
One phone call.
One application.
One walk around the block.
One inch.
That’s the part I think we underestimate.
Small beginnings usually don’t feel impressive while they’re happening.
Nobody throws a parade because you opened the sketchbook.
There probably won’t be fireworks because you made the first phone call.
But it still counts.
Those little beginnings are where everything else comes from.
You Don’t Need to See the Whole Path
This little inchworm doesn’t need to know where the entire branch leads.
It doesn’t need the moon to come any closer.
It just needs somewhere to reach next.
Maybe that’s enough for us too.
You don’t have to stop being afraid before you begin.
You don’t have to feel completely ready.
You don’t have to see the entire path.
You just need one small place to move toward.
Then another.
Then another.
And someday you may look back and realize you’re much farther from where you started than you thought.
What’s One Inch Forward?
If there’s something you’ve been putting off because you don’t feel ready, maybe don’t ask yourself whether you’re brave enough yet.
That can feel like a very big question.
Ask yourself something smaller.
What’s one inch forward?
Maybe it’s opening the sketchbook.
Writing the first paragraph.
Sending the email.
Making the phone call.
Posting the first video.
Taking the walk.
Starting badly.
Whatever your inch is, move that far.
You can figure out the next inch when you get there.
Keep creating. ❤️
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