Here's one I heard recently: if it's meant to be, then it will happen.

That's like saying if it's meant to be for me to win the lottery, then I'll just win without buying a ticket. If it's meant to be?? What does that even mean, really? It was meant to be because we made it. It was meant to be because the absence has grown the heart fonder. It was meant to be because it happened. What happens next is up to us. If we want something, we need to work to make it happen.

As we have learned, the kinds of wounds that need to be healed in order for anything to continue do not heal with time. These wounds need to be addressed and worked through, or else they will linger in the background as echoes. Thoughts and insecurities do not go away with time, they go away by being inspected and dismantled piece by piece. If it was meant to be, then I need to be ready for what comes next. That's incorrect. I need to be ready regardless of "meant to be."

I cannot show up at the olympics without training because it was meant to be. I cannot end up somewhere because it was meant to be. It is not meant for me to be in the olympics, because I am not training for and pursuing that. I cannot end up in Sweden because it was meant to be, I only get there by going there. I ended up meeting a beautiful woman because it was meant to be, and we happened to be in the same place and met. If I know where someone is and don't go there, then it can't be meant to be because it can't happen. It was meant to be when we found each other the first time. It was meant to be when we shared our first kiss. It was meant to be when we found a mirror in each other. It was definitely meant to be. I wanted the result but wasn't willing to do what it took to get there, for that, it can't be meant to be. If I had continued forward under that same belief, then I say this was hard, and it's supposed to be easy, so let me go find something easy. That cuts against the entire premise of this book.

This parable has a modern twist that can be applied in my own context:

The Parable of the Autopilot

The man wasn't lazy; he was a visionary of his own destruction. He looked at his life as a sprint toward a glorious "Off" switch. He told himself, "I will work 100 hours a week now so I never have to work again. I will ignore my health now so I can buy the best healthcare later. I will miss the bedtimes now so I can buy the beach house where we will spend every summer." He believed life was a mountain to be climbed, and only the view from the summit mattered.

His daughter came into his office holding a drawing. "Daddy, look! I drew us at the park." The man didn't look away from his spreadsheets. "That’s great, sweetie, but Daddy is building the 'Autopilot.' Once the business runs itself, we’ll go to the real park every single day. Just wait until we reach the finish line." His daughter took her drawing and walked away. She didn't want the "real park" next year; she wanted her father for five minutes today.

The man began to have chest pains and a tremor in his hand. His doctor was blunt: "Your nervous system is screaming. You need to throttle back. Take a month off." The man laughed. "A month? If I stop for a month, the momentum dies. If I can just push through this final phase, the systems will be automated. Then I’ll have all the time in the world for yoga and doctors. I’m almost at the finish line." The doctor shook his head. "The finish line you’re looking for doesn't look like a vacation, it looks like a pacemaker."

His wife stood in the door of his home office. The room smelled of stale coffee and red bull. "The kids are grown, and I don't know who you are anymore," she said quietly. "We’re leaving for your sister’s wedding tomorrow. Please. Shut it down. Be a human being for a weekend." The man grew angry. "How can you ask me to stop now? I am 90% of the way to the finish line! Once the business is on autopilot, I will be the best partner and father you’ve ever seen. I’ll make up for all of it. Just let me finish!" The house went silent that night. They left, and he didn't even hear the car pull out of the driveway because he was busy building the "solution."

The day finally came. The business was live. The revenue began to tick upward in a steady rhythm. The business was officially running on autopilot. For the first time in years, he had nothing he had to do.

He stood up, his joints aching and popping in the silence. He walked out of the office to tell his wife of their success, but the house was a museum of the life he hadn't lived. The marks on the wall showed his children had grown tall while he was working. His wife's side of the closet was empty; her side of the bed cold. He went to find his kids, but their rooms were dark and empty. He reached for his phone to call a friend, but his phone was full of old names, half-forgotten conversations, and birthdays that had come and gone.

He sat down on the floor of his perfect, empty house. The "peace" he had worked for felt less like a reward and more like emptiness.

In the silence, the truth didn't come as a booming voice from the heavens. It came as a quiet, sober realization in his own mind:

"I wasn’t running toward a finish line; I was running away from my life. I treated my health, my kids, and my marriage like distractions to be managed rather than the point of the whole journey. I mistook the horizon for a finish line. The horizon moves as I do; it was never meant to be reached. I kept saying, “once I get there, I’ll start living,” but I’ve arrived, and there’s no one left to live with. I spent years working to cross the finish line, only to realize I didn’t win; I just finished first in a race that no one else was running."

These parables speak to me in novel ways. The parable of the man in the flood talks about not wasting the opportunity right in front of me. This could manifest itself in thinking I have the answer, when I have no idea what is actually real. The answer was "God", and if he doesn't show up personally, then it can't be the answer. I see this as missing the "answer." The real answer was taking the help that was offered and stop waiting for something else to come around because this isn't what I thought it would look like.

Life is easier when I show up prepared, when I do the work, when I'm not mad about things taking longer or being slightly more difficult. When I embrace the world with curiosity and love, I can move forward through the "hard" times and do the work to get through it. I do not choose to quit at the first signs of trouble. But our second parable teaches me, that I cannot push through to my own detriment in name of "not quitting."

That's like speeding and running red lights to get there on time, but I get pulled over. I get a ticket, I owe money, and I'm still late. In our previous example, not quitting can lead me to failure. If I hit the wall, I will smash into pieces and won't be moving forward at all. Although in our parable, even in "success" there is emptiness. The focus was misplaced, and quitting in this context is not "quitting." It is stopping doing things that are hurting me.

I am ready for whenever the next round comes. I am having all these doubts about her ever coming back to me. I get anxiety because I don't have an answer now. I am vigilant to not break the rules she has set. But I think the rules are doing more harm than good, and I also feel like I'm a pawn in some power play. She controls me. She determines if I can text her. That's not a boundary, that's a rule. A boundary would say that she will not respond to my texts. A rule says I cannot text her.

I didn't know the difference between rules and boundaries until I started this journey. I know now that my actions are what I am talking about with boundaries. Boundaries tell people how I will respond to their actions. Boundaries do not control their actions.