Fate, Movement, and the Life You Didn’t Plan

On moving, planning, and the universe’s habit of rearranging everything

Uff… I just moved. Again. Sixth time in the UK, sixth time watching my life disappear into boxes and reappear in a different postcode. My husband warned me decades ago that he loves to travel — I just didn’t realise he meant moving entire households like a nomad tribe crossing the desert with all their belongings strapped to camels. But this is my fate, and since I chose to live like a Stoic, I meet it like one.

This morning I finally found my laptop between the boxes, so I took it as a sign: write first, sort life second. Though I still haven’t decided what exactly I mean by that. Should I find my husband first, then a toothbrush? Or the other way around? At this point, both feel equally essential and equally missing — a perfect metaphor for the first morning after a move.

This is the strange comedy of movement: you lose the essentials, you find the unnecessary, and somewhere in between you rediscover yourself.

The strange choreography of a life you didn’t plan

There is a moment after every move when the boxes are still full, the rooms echo, and you stand in the middle of it all thinking: How did I get here again? Not in a dramatic way — more in a quiet, observational way, like a scientist studying her own life from a distance.

You plan stability. Life hands you motion. You plan roots. Life gives you wheels. You plan a home. Life gives you a map.

And the older I get, the more I understand that this tension — between what we plan and what actually happens — is not a personal failure. It’s the human condition.

The Jewish saying captures it perfectly: “Man plans, God laughs.” The Stoics would nod in agreement.

What the Stoics knew about planning

The Stoics never said don’t plan. They said: plan, but don’t cling.

• Use your reason to choose a direction.

• Use your courage to walk it.

• Use your humility to accept that the world will interfere.

Marcus Aurelius wrote that everything that happens is woven into the fabric of the universe — not as punishment, not as chaos, but as part of a larger order we can’t fully see.

Epictetus added the simplest rule: Some things are up to us. Some are not.

My address, apparently, is not. But my attitude? Entirely mine.

Movement as fate — and as teacher

When I look back, every move changed me. Not because I wanted it, but because I had to adapt.

Movement teaches:

• Lightness — you learn what truly matters.

• Flexibility — you stop fighting the river and start floating with it.

• Perspective — you see your life from angles you didn’t choose.

• Strength — you realise you can survive more than you thought.

The Stoics believed that fate is not the enemy. Fate is the environment in which your character is revealed.

And maybe that’s the point. Maybe the universe keeps moving me because I’m not meant to grow moss. Maybe my life is a river, not a garden.

Writing from the middle of the mess

There’s something honest about writing before the house is settled. It captures the rawness of the moment — the in‑between, the not‑yet, the becoming.

This is where Stoicism becomes practical. Not in temples, not in books — but in the early morning, barefoot, surrounded by cardboard, choosing your next action with a calm mind.

Clarity: I moved. It’s chaotic. I’m tired. Choice: I can write. I can breathe. I can laugh. Order: Laptop. Husband. Toothbrush. In some order.

This is the quiet power of Stoicism: it doesn’t demand perfection. It asks for presence.

Taking fate like a Stoic

So yes — I moved again. I’m tired. I’m annoyed. I’m laughing at myself. But I’m also strangely calm.

Because a Stoic doesn’t love fate because it’s easy. A Stoic loves fate because it’s theirs.

Amor fati — not as a slogan, but as a posture.

I don’t have to enjoy the boxes. I don’t have to pretend I love the chaos. I only have to accept that this is the shape of my life right now — and meet it with clarity, humour, and a steady mind.

And maybe that’s enough.

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Where to Go Next

If you want to stay in this quiet, Stoic space a little longer, two pieces sit naturally beside today’s reflection:

• 7 Stoic Quotes for When Everything Feels Too Much — a small anchor for the days that feel heavier than they should.

• Marcus Aurelius and Roses: Best Stoic Quotes for Hard Times — a softer companion for moments when you need strength without sharp edges.

• Stoicism: Ancient Philosophy for Modern Life — a grounding introduction to the ideas that keep us steady when life rearranges everything.

Each one is a continuation of the same thread: clarity, calm, and the gentle courage to meet life as it comes.