Every painting was once a blank canvas

Sometimes I think about how every painting was once just a blank canvas and suddenly everything feels possible.

Before the first brushstroke, there was nothing. Just an empty space waiting to be filled. And yet, from that blankness, entire worlds are created: colours come to life, shapes take form, and stories unfold. When I remind myself of this, suddenly everything feels possible.

It’s safe to say that I’m scared of starting new things. The blank canvas, whether literal or metaphorical, can feel intimidating. It’s full of potential but also uncertainty. What if I mess up? What if it doesn’t turn out the way I imagined? What if I fail? These questions swirl in my mind, paralysing me before I even begin.

But lately, I’ve been trying to see the blank canvas differently, not as something to fear, but as a space for exploration and growth.

Here are some thoughts and small rituals that have helped me embrace beginnings with a little more courage and hope.

Reframing the blank canvas

Instead of seeing a blank canvas as a void or a test of perfection, I try to view it as an invitation. It’s not asking me to create something flawless; it’s simply offering me the chance to try.

Every masterpiece started with hesitation, every great idea began as a messy first attempt. The beauty of the blank canvas lies in its openness; it doesn’t demand perfection, only participation. When I remind myself of this, starting something new feels less like a burden and more like an opportunity.

This reframing has helped me in moments both big and small. I remember the first time I scrubbed in for surgery as a newly qualified doctor to assist in an operation on a young woman. The sense of responsibility was overwhelming, like facing a blank canvas but this time with everyone watching. But I realised that every expert surgeon once stood where I was, uncertain and nervous. That thought helped me take the first step, even if my hands felt like they would start shaking at any moment.

Letting go of the fear of failure

One of the hardest parts about beginning is the fear that things won’t go as planned. But here’s the truth: they rarely do… and that’s okay.

I’ve learned that failure isn’t the opposite of success; it’s part of the process. Every mistake teaches me something valuable and brings me closer to where I want to be. When I let go of the need for perfect outcomes, I free myself to experiment and play without fear.

In my research projects, I’ve faced countless setbacks - data that didn’t make sense, experiments that failed, papers that were rejected again and again. At first, each “failure” felt like a dead end. But over time, I started to see them as stepping stones. Each misstep taught me something new, and eventually, the pieces came together.

Starting small

Big projects and new ventures can feel overwhelming when you’re staring at the enormity of what lies ahead. That’s why I’ve started breaking things down into smaller steps - tiny brushstrokes instead of entire paintings.

Maybe it’s writing one sentence instead of an entire chapter or sketching one shape instead of finishing a full drawing. Starting small makes the blank canvas less daunting and helps me build momentum without feeling overwhelmed.

I’ve applied this to running as well. On days when a long run feels impossible after a long hospital shift, I remind myself I only need to lace up my shoes and step outside. Often, just starting with a gentle jog is enough to get me going, and before I know it, I’m in my stride.

Creating rituals for beginnings

Sometimes all it takes is a small ritual to make starting feel less intimidating. For example:

• Light a candle: before sitting down to write, study, or work, light a candle. The gentle glow and scent can create a calm, focused atmosphere and signal to your brain that it’s time to begin.

• Set a timer for 10 Minutes: commit to just 10 minutes of focused work. Knowing there’s a clear endpoint makes it easier to start, and often you’ll find yourself wanting to continue once the timer goes off.

• Play soft background music: choose instrumental or ambient music to play while you work. It can help drown out distractions and make the environment feel more inviting.

• Tidy your workspace: take two minutes to clear your desk or area. Removing clutter can help clear your mind and make the blank canvas-literal or metaphorical-feel less overwhelming.

• Make a cup of tea or coffee: preparing a warm drink can become a comforting ritual that marks the transition from preparation to action.

• Write down one intention: on a sticky note or in a notebook, jot down a single intention or goal for your session. This simple act can help you focus and clarify your purpose.

• Do a quick stretch or breathing exercise: spend a minute stretching or taking a few deep breaths. This helps release tension and brings your mind into the present moment.

• Change into “work” clothes: even if you’re at home, changing into clothes you associate with productivity (like gym gear for a workout or a favorite sweater for writing) can help you mentally shift gears.

• Open a fresh document or notebook: sometimes, just opening a new file or turning to a blank page can be the nudge you need to get started. The act itself is a small but significant first step.

• Set out tools or materials: lay out your pens, laptop, reference books, or other materials you’ll need. Having everything ready and visible reduces friction and makes it easier to dive in.

These rituals turn beginnings into moments of intention rather than moments of fear.

Trusting the process

Beginnings are messy - it’s part of their charm. The first brushstroke might look awkward, the first draft might be clunky, but that doesn’t mean they’re worthless.

I remind myself that every creative process has its own rhythm and flow; what feels uncertain now will eventually take shape with time and effort. Trusting this process allows me to move forward even when things don’t feel perfect.

Finding inspiration in others

Whenever I feel stuck or scared to begin, I think about all the people who’ve faced their own blank canvases and created something extraordinary anyway. Every artist, writer, inventor or dreamer started somewhere - with nothing but an idea and a willingness to try.

Looking at their work reminds me that beginnings are universal-they’re hard for everyone but also full of possibility for everyone.

Reading biographies of doctors, scientists, and athletes I admire reminds me that even the most accomplished people started from scratch. Their stories help me remember that uncertainty is just the first step toward growth.

Celebrating progress over perfection

Instead of focusing on how far I have left to go, I try to celebrate each step forward-even if it’s small or imperfect. The act of beginning itself is worth celebrating because it means I’ve overcome my fear long enough to try.

Progress isn’t linear or glamorous; sometimes it’s slow and quiet, but it’s still progress nonetheless.

The magic of possibility

The blank canvas is scary because it holds so much potential, but that’s also what makes it magical. It can become anything: a painting, a story, an idea that changes your life forever.

When I remember this, starting feels less like stepping into uncertainty and more like stepping into possibility, a chance to create something meaningful out of nothing.

So here’s what I tell myself when fear creeps in: every masterpiece starts with hesitation; every journey begins with one step; every painting was once just a blank canvas waiting for someone brave enough to try.

If you’re scared of starting too, know this: you don’t have to be perfect or fearless, you just have to begin. Because within every blank canvas lies infinite possibility and suddenly everything feels possible again.

Until next time,

Allie xx