Recently I read this line on a social networking site: “Destiny is for losers, it’s just an excuse to wait for things to happen, instead of making them happen.”
Is this an accusation? A criticism of somebody being indolent, wasteful? Is it self-realisation, and therefore, self-deprecation? The bitter, stinging reality of an epiphany of…one’s purpose? Or, perhaps, it is an instance of solipsistic self-assertion. This is how it is and you shall believe it forever more! Ever come across anything like that before…?
Soon after reading this, mind numb, my body cold from almost 10 minutes of motionless reflection, I asked myself, “Could destiny instead be the reason for things happening? Could destiny be the force that drives everything, if anything, at all?”
The ever-dependable Oxford English Dictionary defines “destiny” as “that which is destined or fated to happen to a particular person, place or institution.”
An interesting concept. The most simplistic question (and perhaps most complicated) seems to be, “does destiny exist?” Is there really someone, or something, controlling the fate of all that happens, and all that is, in this universe, right down to the finest gossamer threads of seven billion different lives? (Now that would be something to put on the old C.V., wouldn’t it?) Yet, there seems to be an egregious flaw in this theory – death and birth. The many people who die each day, and the newborns gracing mothers and fathers all across the globe – they are different people, living different lives, from those who have recently passed on. When is our fate determined? Before we are born, before we make a decision ourselves, relying upon our parents and caregivers? Or does destiny follow more of a one-step-at-a-time methodology?
When we learn of someone dying in a fire, or perhaps drowning, it’s not uncommon to think, “I wouldn’t want to go like that.” I’ve wondered myself how, when my time comes, I’d want to reach my demise. Usually the quiet, peaceful descent into oblivion seems more appealing than being singed or shot or decapitated. But are we helpless to merely guess and hope for or against the method of our departure from this plane of existence? Do I already have a predetermined, invisible ticket with “motorbike accident” written on it? Yes or no, so many of our lives intertwine with each other every day – can these connections with alter our destiny, change our fate? How does this omnipotent lord above keep balancing these threads of life? Are each of us, humans, dogs, cats, trees, the existence of everything, weaved into some great tapestry?; are we to be found in the glossary of the largest story ever composed? Just how much does the “being” in control of destiny have to orchestrate? Nature, the cosmos, everything?
What about motivation? This being, creator, god – what drives it? Collective belief? Across the human population, individual beliefs range across a gargantuan spectrum, and some of us (the more capricious amongst our species), cannot fully pin down what, why, nor how, we truly believe things happen. So then, this lord that is the great leveler, the bringer of balance, the definition of happening, is it all an intricate composition? Are we spun as a web by their daedal craftsmanship, each step we take – our failures, our successes – are they recorded on some script of cause and effect, where every detail is accounted for, and ultimately, considered meaningful?
Destiny. As a student, when I’m walking to the university, hedging my bets as to whether an essay of mine has been marked, I go through the multitude of possible scores I might have achieved, 1% all the way to 100%. Each is, at this point in my nervous mind, as possible as the next. The dizzying heights of a First Class essay or a suicide-tempting FAIL. That I’m writing this is a testimony of no fails thus far, since I have clearly resisted the aforementioned temptation. I’ve read through the essay the night before any day where I resolve to check if a marked copy is ready for collection. Sometimes I’ve re-read my essay seven or eight times before I receive my mark. Often I find slight flaws in my sentences, questions in my own interrogations which I didn’t ask, impositions I could have played on more than I did, some that I didn’t notice at all. Such discoveries are…too late. Perhaps, to some extent, a contrivance of my nervous imagination, seeking to lampoon myself before I’ve even passed or failed.
The important reminder in this struggle for composure is that, this essay now has one mark. Be it 67%, 59%, 17%. Be it anything. It has been marked, “my fate is sealed” as the saying goes; my destiny lies before me. Yet what does this mean? No matter which way I walk to the essay office, no matter what shirt I wear, how many prayers I now sing, my mark is going to be the same. My chance to make it better disappeared when I believed it was a finished product; any regrets I’ll have over the final score could have been mollified somewhat by setting aside more time to work on it. Destiny waits for nobody.
What about another example – football. Are match results pre-determined by how players will react to each pass, tackle, shot, flash of movement, they experience? Will something unexpected happen to swing the pendulum in one team’s favour? Perhaps. Goals often happen, after all, because defensively one team has faltered, allowing the magical moment from the attacking team to occur.
Let us also consider the emotional investment. We have no idea what will happen. Be it a game of sports, receiving an essay mark or finding out if we got a job; would we rather ride the uncertain waves of the unknown, allowing the fate of the match, the score of the paper, the state of our happiness, be controlled by the tension of the unknown, or, as impatient as humans can be, would we each prefer to know in a quick, sudden manner? No tense penalty kicks, no sticky examination envelopes, no formal phone-calls, just…everything, there before us.
The latter doesn’t seem very possible, yet that is just as well, for tension is one root of emotion that we should never forget.
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First Posted At Fractured Paths
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