What Do We Mean When We Talk About Fate?

I don’t believe in fate, or destiny, or karma. I don’t believe anything happens for a reason, or that anything is ever ‘meant’ to be.

That might sound sort of depressing, and I can understand why. I think as humans, even for those of us who aren’t religious or spiritual, we like to trust that there is someone or something out there watching out for us. This might be God for some, and for others it might be what is often referred to, somewhat vaguely, as the universe: causing shifts in our lives with changing energies, seasons, and moons. To be honest, I’ve always been fairly distrustful of that stuff, because it struck me that relying on the idea that God or the universe or whoever/whatever else has a plan for you means relinquishing some of your agency in your own life. 

All this is certainly not to disrespect or diminish someone’s right to believe in whatever they want. What’s more, I haven’t always felt this way. For a long time, I wasn’t sure what I believed, and I understand how terrifying it is to entertain the idea that nothing means anything. The thought of going about your life, of experiencing incredible joy and terrible pain, for no real reason must instill fear in a lot of people. It means accepting that, ultimately, we are alone.

Ultimately, though, I guess I sort of have accepted that. I’ve landed on an understanding that we’re no more than cells that have evolved over billions of years to end up here, and nothing we do means anything. But by the same logic, what we do means everything, because if nothing means anything, then it’s up to us, as total free agents, to instill our own lives with meaning. 

Thinking like this has changed the way I perceive painful experiences. I now believe that none of our hardships are inflicted maliciously or even purposefully. It’s just the product of random chaos, and chaos doesn’t necessarily have to mean turmoil, only that any number of things might or might not happen. Instead of being frightened by this, I’m comforted by the idea that the world bears me no ill. It simply is. Things happen, and it’s not because I was bad so I’m receiving bad as a form of punishment. It all just is.

So far, this might still sound fairly nihilistic. Maybe it is, and maybe I’ll evolve and change my mind in the future. I’m certainly open to doing so. But I think the reason it doesn’t feel like nihilism for me is that I also appreciate that, just as pain is the product of chaos, so is joy. Beautiful things and precious experiences require no explanation or meaning. None of us had to end up here, and yet we did. None of this had to work out, and yet it has, and I think that’s wonderful.