Expect the Unexpected

An annual reflection on how to approach living

If I had to sum up my lessons learned over the past year, it would be this: “expect the unexpected”.

At the start of this year, I had a crisp list of goals, milestones, and timelines. I blocked out my calendar, set intentions, and tried to shape the year like clay. Nevertheless, the moments I’ll remember most — the ones that changed me — didn’t appear on any calendar invite.

My general belief is to live life less as if there’s a list of New Year’s resolutions (since people end up not achieving those goals and waiting until next year or realizing them too early and becoming complacent) and more as a continuum of progress and discovery based on a core set of values that remain unweathered by time.

That peaceful drive through endless Wisconsin cornfields, en route to a Navy SEAL bootcamp simulation. That unexpected Uber ride where the driver shared, with quiet vulnerability, how each fare helped chip away at debts from a gambling addiction. That random Wednesday afternoon in the co-working space, lost in a meandering conversation about the future of humanoids. None of these moments were planned or optimized for productivity. Yet their unscripted nature revealed something raw and deeply human.

I used to think structure was what kept life moving forward. But I’ve learned structure is only half the equation. The other half is surrender: leaving space for what can’t be predicted. The unexpected isn’t just chaos; it’s where possibility lives. It’s the universe reminding me that I am not the architect of everything — sometimes I am simply the witness, the participant, the explorer.

And part of that exploration is realizing that everyone else is also living out their own intricate, unpredictable narrative. There’s a word for this: sonder. The humbling awareness that each person you pass on the street, each voice in a coffee shop, each name in a Slack thread is the main character in a story as vivid and complex as yours. Their detours, quiet triumphs, private struggles — all unfolding alongside yours, intersecting in fleeting moments of connection before drifting apart again.

I used to wonder what I would do with so much unstructured time as I currently have. Now, I know: it's a canvas for curiosity, for witnessing not just my own spontaneity, but the vibrant lives unfolding around me.

There’s a concept in Taoism called wu wei — effortless action. It’s not laziness; it’s trust. Trust that when you leave space, life — and the lives of others — will fill it in ways you could never plan. People never cease to surprise me, and with time, the possibilities for what can unfold feel endless. I’m grateful for this rare season of unbounded exploration — wandering into conversations that spark curiosity, following ideas with no clear destination, and allowing serendipity to guide me toward places I never thought to look.

As I head into the rest of this year, I’m leaving more blank pages. More room for mystery and quiet moments of nothing that end up becoming something.

Because if there’s one thing 2025 taught me, it’s this: the best parts of life aren’t the ones you chase. They’re the ones that find you — sometimes through serendipity, sometimes through someone else’s unfolding story, and sometimes simply when you stop, look around, and feel the quiet awe of sonder.