Fate is a Funny Thing...

Fate is a funny thing. Whether it exists or not has been a bone of contention since the dawn of time. Or fate. Whichever came first. One thing is certain, though: if fate does exist then everything we do is for the greater good. That’s not to say that everything is decided, or that our lives our mapped out in one direction, or even that fate’s conclusion is fixed, but it is to accept that whatever we choose to do, and it is a choice, is moving us and the world towards a point of finality.

And too often people cry that fate cannot exist. Why? Because bad things happen, and because sometimes dreams just don’t come true. But so what? It isn’t fate’s job, nor has it ever been, to make people’s lives better, only significant.

So what of the beggars? What of the poor? What of the check-out chicks, hairdressers and poets? Where do they fit in? How can fate exist when people live and die and do nothing else? How are they important? The little people. What part do they play?

Well they are just as important as the Hitlers and Churchills. Because of thread of association that runs through the rich tapestry of fate and time, everyman is linked by every other man in a tangled web of influence that can reach any other soul in a few moves.

The brightest threads of the tapestry stand out only when set against a pastel background. Which colours are more important? There is no distinction. They are equal parts of the same whole.

And so Joe Smith may never have been to war; he may never have won the World Cup, landed on the moon or written the constitution of a brave new world, but he may have been the one to suggest to fate’s more prominent tool that he or she should take the first, second or third step on the road that was to lead them to greatness. Or maybe he knew somebody who knew somebody who knew somebody who knew somebody famous, or influential or important to fate’s divine plan. Maybe he touched somebody, anybody, in a way that moved mountains further down the line. Like the beating of a butterfly’s wings, and the resulting tsunami thousands of miles away, the effect of actions, however small, permeate the population and snowball until the culmination is revered as a great moment in time: the falling of the Berlin wall, the 9/11 attack, the election of Barrack Obama. Were these events chance? Or is nothing chance? Is everything influenced by everything else?

The thought that time has thrown up, and continues to throw up, contrasting characters that have squared-off on a world stage seems too clichéd to believe, and yet it happens, time and time again – the Hitlers and the Churchills. Is it coincidence that they existed to fight each other? Or is nothing down to chance.

Consider that just one erroneous movement of your father would have reshuffled his sperm to the extent that you never would have existed. And the same is true of everyone. One step away from none existence. And so when the world provides us with legendary heroes and villains, we should ask ourselves: is it possible that these men couldn’t have existed? Or is it more likely that their existence is necessary. Not for you or for me, but for fate.

Everything happens for a reason.

Everything.


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