Choosing Motion Over the Illusion of Perfect Plans
Choose motion over perfect plans; progress prefers imperfect feet. — Søren Kierkegaard
The Seduction of the Perfect Plan
Kierkegaard’s line begins by naming a familiar trap: the belief that if we think long enough, we can design a flawless route through uncertainty. Yet perfection in planning often functions less as wisdom and more as a shelter from risk, because a plan can feel like action without requiring exposure to failure. In that sense, the “perfect plan” becomes a polished delay. From there, the quote pivots toward a more lived philosophy—one that treats action as the real site of discovery. By contrasting motion with perfect plans, Kierkegaard implies that clarity is frequently the reward of movement, not its prerequisite.
Progress as a Practice, Not a Prediction
Once we accept that plans can’t fully domesticate uncertainty, progress looks less like forecasting and more like practicing. Kierkegaard’s emphasis on “motion” suggests that the next step is valuable even when it isn’t optimized, because it produces feedback that no amount of imagining can supply. Like learning a language, the messy early conversations teach what textbooks alone cannot. This also reframes progress as iterative rather than linear: you move, you learn, you adjust, and you move again. In that loop, imperfections aren’t evidence of failure; they’re evidence that you are actually engaged with reality.
Imperfect Feet and the Courage to Begin
The phrase “imperfect feet” gives the idea a bodily honesty: real change happens through ordinary, unglamorous steps, not through idealized versions of ourselves. Kierkegaard’s broader existential writing—such as *Fear and Trembling* (1843)—returns repeatedly to the notion that choosing is costly precisely because certainty is unavailable. Action, then, is not the final stage after doubt disappears; it is the way we carry doubt forward. As a result, beginning becomes an act of courage rather than a reward for being ready. The imperfect walker still arrives somewhere; the perfect planner stays at the starting line.
How Overplanning Becomes Avoidance
If motion is the remedy, the illness is often subtle: overplanning masquerades as responsibility while functioning as avoidance. People refine outlines, compare tools, and wait for ideal conditions, all while telling themselves they are being prudent. Yet the emotional driver is frequently fear—fear of being judged, fear of wasting effort, fear of discovering limits. Seen this way, Kierkegaard’s advice is compassionate as well as bracing. It doesn’t deny the value of thought; it warns against thought that exists mainly to prevent lived engagement. The cure is a small step that breaks the spell.
Small Experiments Create Real Direction
A practical translation of the quote is to treat goals as hypotheses and steps as experiments. Instead of asking, “What is the perfect plan?” you ask, “What is the smallest action that teaches me something?” An aspiring writer might draft one page a day; an entrepreneur might interview five potential customers before building anything; a student might do practice problems before rereading notes. With each experiment, direction emerges from evidence, and confidence becomes grounded rather than imagined. Thus progress “prefers” imperfect feet because they generate the data that perfect plans can only pretend to have.
Balancing Movement with Meaningful Reflection
Even so, Kierkegaard’s call to motion doesn’t require impulsiveness. The deeper implication is a rhythm: act, reflect, revise, and act again. Reflection retains its place, but it becomes a servant to movement rather than its jailer. In that balance, planning is lighter—aimed at the next step rather than the whole map—and perfection is replaced by sincerity. You advance not because you have eliminated uncertainty, but because you have chosen to live forward, letting imperfect feet carry you into the next truthful opportunity.