Back in the 1980s there was a horrible plane crash that occurred outside of Washington DC—the plane landed in the Potomac during a blizzard and a frantic rescue effort ensued. I’ll always remember one of the passengers who survived afterward describing her last moments, standing on the half-submerged wing of the airplane that was rapidly sinking into the icy river. There was only her and another gentleman left, and only one of them could hold onto to the swinging rope from the helicopter hovering overhead. She told how the man calmly and graciously held out the rope to her, made sure she was holding on firmly, and then he was swept away down the river and gone.
I think about this story often as a metaphor for amor fati. Literally, amor fati means “love of fate” or “love of one’s destiny.” I first encountered this phrase during my Nietzche days, back in college, and rebelled against it as much as I was fascinated by it. It’s taken me decades to understand it as I do now. The experience of amor fati is about seeing things as they truly are, without judgment, regret, longing, or story. It’s about realizing this is how it is, so how will I respond to it? Because how we respond to our fate is our true freedom as creative, imaginative human beings.
“My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity,” writes Nietszche. “Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it… but love it.”
Amor fati is not about giving up but giving over. Letting go of our prejudices, outrage, and fear and instead approaching life with wonder and interest. It’s about being authentic. Hugging the possibilities. Being true to ourselves. Embracing uncertainty and worry with enthusiasm and curiosity. Surrendering to our destiny, like water surrenders to its own level or a candle surrenders to being lit. Surrendering to our heroism. It’s not that we say yes to negativity or boredom or anger, but that we ask ourselves, how do I want to respond in this moment? How do I want to live? “Some day,” wrote Nietzsche, “I wish to be only a Yes-sayer.”