Making Sense of What’s Next…

Like you, I’ve been thinking a lot about how we make sense of what’s next. Looking back for signals, wondering how they might shape the way forward.

Lately, one idea keeps resurfacing—the adjacent possible. A concept first introduced by biologist Stuart Kauffman, it describes how new possibilities emerge not from a single leap into the unknown but from expanding what’s already within reach. The future isn’t a fixed destination; it unfolds step by step, based on what we have access to right now.

I first encountered this idea through Marc Bamuthi Joseph, who framed it in a way that resonated deeply with me and my work. It became a lens through which I navigate uncertainty, creativity, and change. And in December 2022, when Baltimore Center Stage invited me to speak about the future of art-making in my hometown, I knew this would be the foundation of my talk.

I was excited and a little terrified. It was my first public talk since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, and so much had changed—personally, professionally, in the world. I’d gotten married and become a bonus mom. I jumped from the “glass cliff” into community and a fulfilling consulting practice. I was a rollerskater. I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease. And I have amazing permanent eyebrows now. My world felt very interior. Would people out there still want to hear from me?

I quieted the self-doubt and grounded my talk in what I knew to be true: the adjacent possible. That the path ahead isn’t about certainty—it’s about moving forward with what we have, step by step, and letting the next door reveal itself. That framework still resonates, maybe even more now.

This is both a reflection and a reintroduction.

Over the past few years, my work has been shifting. My perspective has evolved. And as I continue stepping into new possibilities, it feels important to practice in public—to share where I’ve been and where I’m going.

So I’m starting here, with this keynote given on the eve of my 40th birthday. With words that still feel true. With an invitation to think about what comes next—not as some distant, abstract thing, but in the ways we are already building toward our collective futures.

It feels right to share this talk as it is—unedited, unfiltered—because the questions I raised then still feel urgent now. Because imagining a future means tending to the possibilities right in front of us. Because the invitation I extended to the audience that day—to consider what joy we are creating now for the generations to come—remains wide open.

(And of course, there was a reflection activity. You know I’m a facilitator.)

So here it is.

The transcript, as I first shared it at Baltimore Center Stage. The video is below, too.

If you’re here, reading this, engaging with these ideas—thank you. I’d love to hear what this sparks for you.

What are the adjacent possibilities you see unfolding in your work, your communities, your creative practice? What small joys are you building now that might become part of a lineage of generational joy?

Let’s keep building. Let’s keep imagining. Let’s keep creating futures worth inheriting.

With care,

Jess