Fine, Steal My Stuff

My friend Stephen Kenn makes things. Architectural furniture. Ikebana flower stands. And leather bags. He made the bag I took on my bike trip for 14,000 miles to Patagonia. He made my backpack too. I currently have that backpack with me in Japan.

I sent him a photo of the bag, proud to still carry it all these years later.

He responded “So glad you have one. I miss that bag. Mine was stolen in 2020.”

Bummer.

He added after a beat. “But I actually love when that stuff happens to me. It drives me to make more.”

Imagine having that perspective. A bag you designed and made by hand is stolen out of your car, and your response is motivation? Is more creative output?

This is a philosophy for life. To respond to the life you have, not the life you wish you had. To live in radical reality. I have a ring engraved with ‘Amor Fati.’ It’s Latin for ‘the love of one’s fate.’ I wear it constantly. It is a posture to embody. To see the world not as a mean consciousness, out to sabotage me. Or even a loving over-soul out to give me my every wish. I do not even know what I should want. My growth is not beholden to the expectations of my present. How many times would I have been cursed had I gotten what I wanted when I was younger? I can only expect with information from the past. And I do not know what results are downstream from prior choices, or what avalanche I will unwittingly be below.

But I do know that it is my invitation to radically accept reality as it is, and choose to take inspiration from it. To take aim, and when I miss, thank physics and reality (dare I say fate) for righting my course.

You take my stuff, I’ll create new and better stuff. You wash my house away, I’ll move up hill and build something new, or God forbid, finally humble myself to receive the help of friends.

Love y’all,

Jed.