“As Posidonius said, ‘In a single day there lies open to men of learning more than there ever does to the unenlightened in the longest of lifetimes.’" -Seneca
Many are familiar with the adage, the only constant is change. What we once knew shape-shifts into the unfamiliar, to then inevitably, by way of exposure, become familiar again. And so the cycle of life goes. We tend to view and experience change from the reactive position, pivoting (oft-painfully) only when called for. An organizational restructure, a new environment, an ended relationship—whatever form the change takes, our instinct to survive enables us to adapt accordingly. This innate ability to respond to changing circumstances, conjuring all creative forces of will as needed, is one of our most tremendous qualities as humans. Jarred for a time we may be, an underlying will to survive eventually surfaces, enabling the response necessary. It’s precisely this innateness that makes responding to change not so much noble as it is expected, as survival requires that we respond to change in some measure of a productive manner. And so, if responding to change is the default operating mechanism in the self-preserving individual, the less-emphasized counterpart is the anticipation of change.
An excerpt from Letters from a Stoic finds philosopher Seneca writing about a man whose town was destroyed by a fire. “It is a disaster by which anyone might be shaken,” Seneca writes, “let alone a person quite devoted to his hometown.” One of the perhaps less-highlighted attributes of the more prominent Stoics was their empathy—their understanding and acknowledgement of the human’s natural reaction to life’s dealings. Accordingly, Seneca recognizes the validity of this man’s devastation. What he also recognizes is something quite profound as we consider our own emotional responses to what we’d perceive as misfortune: “What is quite unlooked for is more crushing in its effect, and unexpectedness adds to the weight of a disaster. The fact that it was unforeseen has never failed to intensify a person’s grief.”
The unexpectedness of an event intensifies it. (This, too, is why good surprises are even sweeter. An unexpected raise, an unsolicited gift—the act or item itself is enough to raise serotonin levels, but the delight of the surprise brought about by it is often the true source of magic.)
That said, it goes without saying that few of us are eager to imagine something so severe as one’s entire city being consumed by a blazing fire. There are the events that are so far from our cognitive consideration that we’re unlikely to conceive of them, and there are those that we can conceive but would prefer not to think about (loss, etc.). We’re to remind ourselves that the goal of preparation in this way is not agonizing rumination in itself, but practical and emotional inoculation that aids our ability to face matters bravely.
In our path toward living philosophically-informed lives, what we aim to cultivate isn’t fortune telling, but rather, the art of both being unsurprised and of embracing surprise.
This is the crux of much of James Carse’s critically acclaimed book Finite and Infinite Games, juxtaposing two types of games in life: games played for a specific end (finite), and games that are played to keep on playing (infinite). The finite player is often thwarted by surprise, whereas the infinite player embraces it, leaning into it as the spice of life. Unlike the finite player who aims to reduce unforeseen variables, Carse says that the infinite player plays with the variables—both anticipating and making utility of them. What we should strive to develop amidst the ebbs and flows and throes of life, then, is an openness to possibility.
It then becomes not only about preparedness for things changing, but for newness entering.
"We should project our thoughts ahead of us at every turn and have in mind every possible eventuality instead of only the usual course of events." -Seneca
Our frustrations are often rooted in the following: an unwillingness to accept anything other than a pre-decided outcome. The critical freedom enabled by an openness to possibility is a loosening of our attachment to specific outcomes, exposing us to a world in which our contentment isn't limited to a single rigid path. James Clear addresses the topic similarly in Atomic Habits with the following: “It is unlikely that your actual path through life will match the exact journey you had in mind when you set out. It makes no sense to restrict our satisfaction to one scenario when there are many paths to success.”
Authors named James are on to something here.
When we are oriented toward the open, as Carse would describe it, we avail ourselves to other forms of beauty and modes of enrichment that we otherwise may not have allowed ourselves to see.
“It is in fact seriousness that closes itself to consequence. For seriousness is a dread of the unpredictable outcome of open possibility. To be serious is to press for a specified conclusion. To be playful is to allow for possibility whatever the cost to oneself.” -James Carse
Whatever the cost to oneself. Being open to the possible means being open to the painful, too. Our participation in life itself is an agreement to accept possibility in its many forms—be it of delight or disaster. Our goal, in Carse’s view, isn’t specific isolated outcomes, but the continuance of experience itself, only made richer by its ever-unfolding quality.
All of this said, it is important to not place expectations on our openness. That is, the attempt at operating out of an open disposition doesn’t mean that we won’t still want specific things. Rather, it enables an acute awareness of the variability of life that allows us to not be crushed should a certain path or plan not pan out. In this openness we are armed with a perspective that enables us to see the possibility of all things, as Seneca encourages, and thus also the possibility of nothing. In the openness, life becomes more expansive as we actively allow more means of fulfillment to exist, and correspondingly, an increased ability to productively interpret events. We must remember that being open to possibility doesn’t guarantee your desired outcome or a positive experience; it frees you from being attached to a specific experience.
As we cultivate our thinking in this manner, we’re to remember that it is within a person's right to decide what they're open to (and when)—to decide to close off certain possibilities, to operate in a way that makes things of disinterest or distractions not a possibility (ex. turning your phone off, blocking your calendar, reducing inputs, etc.). This is you operating as a free person, limiting possibility in one area to create more room for it elsewhere.
There is wisdom in acting out of awareness of the possible, anticipating what certain situations may bring and determining your readiness for it accordingly. It is our responsibility and prerogative to choose what we engage.
"Foolish are those who...have no aim to which they can direct every impulse and, indeed, every thought." -Marcus Aurelius
The driven among us may seek to resolve a perceived tension between the implied specificity of goals and a disposition toward the possible and evolving. The resolution: contextualized openness, or openness in the context of your principles and intentions. This materializes as an intent focus on the energy and efforts most likely to yield the desired outcome, while remaining open to how and whether it happens. Open yet directed—this is the intersection at which the best of possibility lies. We must, and arguably for our own sanity, be directed to some degree, be it by an abstract compulsion (curiosity, adventure, etc.) or a concrete milestone. Lack of clarity is where much of our pain stems. In short: have a sense of where you want to go, be open to how you get there.
Proper preparation creates room for the possible. How we live our days determines how we’ll continue to do so (i.e. habits), and how we treat ourselves and our environments often correlates to the opportunities we feel empowered to welcome. To maximize our chances of being able to embrace the instances of possibility that present themselves, we’re to heed Seneca’s instruction to anticipate all that could possibly happen—both what we want and don’t want. For the former, engineer an environment that enables you to lean in when the opportunity arises; for the latter, one in which you’re supported no matter what is sent your way.
"Mistress Fortune may deal out [anything] as she likes; his life has already found safety. Something may be added to it, but nothing taken from it, and he will take any addition as the man who is satisfied and filled takes the food which he does not desire and yet can hold." -Seneca