If nothing else, there’s one lesson that I think we’re all continually learning. It goes something like this: “none of us know what the hell we’re doing, so just keep going”. That’s not terrifically eloquent, but that was the phrase I scrawled in my notebook as I sat in our daily leadership meeting last Thursday.

When I say that none of us know what we’re doing, I do mean it in the broadest sense. Sure, most of us have mastered the myriad tasks that make our lives successful, but at the same time it’s important to remember that we’re all on our first go of things. It takes a lifetime to reach the level of ninja master— if we ever get there at all. The entire point is to stay on the path and keep trying.

Maybe it’s just me and my readiness to admit my own un-self assuredness, but I’ve lost count of the number of times where I’ve had to make a concerted effort to surmount my own unease and simply join the herd in plowing ahead.

I went through this mental gymnastics exercise once again last week as I slipped into work early to try and hammer out a few paragraphs of, um, expertise.  At first I stared for a few moments at the blank screen in front of me. Then I got up. I made a coffee and allowed my backstage Brain Crew to toss around ideas that clashed against an ebb and flow of concern that someone somewhere else surely had a better clue than me. This kind of subconscious dance is never actually paralyzing, but it’s always a rite of passage that must be played out before I can later look up from my computer and find that I’ve created something of value.

I am 38 years old. What I find most shocking about reaching this age is that even as a full-grown adult, I’m still wired to assume that I’m one of the dumb kids in the class who has to work twice as hard to complete an assignment to a passing standard. And truthfully, how can one not feel a bit lacking when you’re surrounded by people who have spent years refining rather impressive skill sets?

At my work we’ve got folks who think little of setting heavy lift aircraft onto wobbling flight decks that threaten to roll you into the sea. We’ve got people who speak multiple languages and appear to house a card catalog in their brain that can easily produce the most obscure but critical detail. And then there are leaders who have maneuvered hundreds of humans and expensive metal things around as a part of a very real chess game where one errant move can have global ramifications. I’m surrounded by an incredible amount of talent, and in no way do I ever want to let them down by some inferior production output. The prospect alone is enough to make a person stare in fear at a blank Word document.

But then I flash back to what I wrote down in my notebook. The truth is that we’re all on a similar path of building something from nothing, and for that reason alone, it doesn’t matter if you don’t always feel qualified for the job. You’re just going to have to do it anyway. And then when you do come out on the other end, you’ll discover that you really were okay .

I look forward to relearning this truism once I roll into the office on Monday. And then Tuesday, and Wednesday. Every day is a wonderland.