If You Knew the Ending, Would You Still Choose the Life?
The courage to keep writing in the dark.
If the universe promised you one truth, any truth, what would you dare to ask?
Some ask, What is my purpose?
Others wonder, When will I find love?
Or whisper, Will I ever reach the career I dream of?
As long as we’ve had questions, humankind has been dying to know the answers.
At first glance, knowing feels like freedom. It promises certainty, removes doubt, and calms the storm. Yet it doesn’t change the entire climate.
We simply crave answers because they soothe.
We’ve built whole architectures for this hunger, cathedrals of prediction disguised as intimacy. We knock on the doors of psychics, let astrologers sketch constellations into our skin, whisper our birthdays into numerology charts as if numbers could tame the wildness of time. Fortune tellers turn cards like keys, unlocking futures we ache to touch. These practices, ancient yet alive, thrive on the same human ache: the desire to outrun uncertainty, to hold tomorrow like a polished stone in our palms.
They hold truth in some aspects of life, but that isn’t the point. Even when the map is handed to us, it cannot teach us how to walk the terrain. We call it guidance, but what we really want is permission, proof that the story ahead won’t betray us.
Yet, answers given too soon can hollow out the act of living. We may find ourselves free from the storm yet, emptied of meaning. Knowing an outcome doesn’t guarantee what life’s really supposed to be; instead, it robs us of becoming.
