Embracing the Unforeseen
“Embrace the surprises that come your way.”
That was the message in my fortune cookie the other night. At first glance, it sounded like one of those generic sayings that could mean anything. But the more I sat with it, the more I realized how close it is to a Stoic truth.
Yesterday morning, the words felt sharper. At three o’clock, my phone buzzed with news from my sister. Mom hadn’t been well the past couple of days. During the night, she grew worse, called my sister, and ended up in the hospital. The doctors think it’s an infection, maybe even a heart attack. I had just driven back from seeing her on Wednesday, and now, I’ll make the trip again.
None of this was part of the plan. It never is. I was just ready to get into a new rhythm for my days, and then something breaks through. A call in the night, a sudden turn, a reminder of how fragile everything is.
The Stoics would say this is the very place where philosophy shows its worth. Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor who bore wars, plagues, and his own illnesses, wrote to himself: “Each event comes as part of the whole. Do not shrink from it. Meet it as if it were chosen for you by nature itself.” That doesn’t make illness or worry easy. It doesn’t take away the ache of seeing someone you love suffer. But it reframes the moment. The surprise is not an intrusion on life; it is life.
Seneca, writing to a friend, put it another way: “Surprise is not an enemy but a teacher. Let it shape your courage, temper your desires, and show you where your strength lies.”
I don’t know yet what Mom’s strength or mine will look like in the next few days. What I do know is that this is one of those times when theory is tested by practice.
Surprises aren’t always dark. Sometimes they come as interruptions that make us laugh. A canceled meeting that frees an afternoon. A stranger who starts a conversation. Even minor irritations, such as traffic jams and loud neighbors, are all surprises of a kind.
Marcus Aurelius wrote: “You have power over your mind — not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” That’s the heart of it. A delay on the road or a rude remark doesn’t decide our peace of mind. We do. To complain about what lies beyond us is to hand over power that is already ours.
I think about Massimo Pigliucci’s story, told in the Hidden Brain podcast, of losing his wallet to pickpockets on a subway in Rome. In earlier years, he said, he would have been consumed with anger — at himself, at the thieves, at the unfairness of it all. But years of Stoic practice shifted his response. Instead of stewing, he calmly blocked his credit cards, requested a new license, and moved on with his day. The wallet was gone, but the day was not lost.
That is embracing surprise in practice. Not celebrating every misfortune, but refusing to let it master you.
When I think of Mom, I remind myself of another Stoic lesson: the dichotomy of control. Some things are up to us, Epictetus said, and others are not. My sister can get her to the hospital. Doctors can run tests and offer treatment. I can get in the car and drive up tomorrow to be with her. Those things are within reach. The outcome of her illness is not.
This is where the fortune cookie line rings truest. Embracing surprises does not mean liking them. It is to receive them without resistance. To accept them as part of the whole fabric of life.
Of course, it’s easier said than done. I can feel my own anxiety rise when I picture tomorrow. The miles of highway. The sterile smell of hospitals. The helpless feeling of standing by someone you love while machines beep around them. The Stoics didn’t deny those feelings. They urged us to notice them, to remember they are natural, but not to let them rule.
Marcus would tell me, “You can live a good life anywhere, even in a hospital waiting room.” Seneca might add: “Surprise is a teacher. Let it train your courage.”
Surprise also works in lighter ways. The other week, I came across a photo I had forgotten about, tucked in an old folder. It pulled me back to a summer trip years ago, a day of laughter and just hanging out that I hadn’t thought of in ages. That memory was a surprise, too, and it reminded me of the balance. Life gives us more than shocks and losses. It also gives us unexpected joys.
Think of the small surprises that add color to an ordinary day: running into a friend you haven’t seen in years, watching a sunset after a storm, hearing a song that holds special significance for you on the radio. These moments matter because we didn’t plan them. They arrive unannounced, as pure gifts.
The Stoics would have us treat both kinds of surprise, both the hard and the light, with the same openness. Not clinging to one, not recoiling from the other. Simply meeting what arrives with steadiness.
So as I drive north. I’ll carry with me a fortune cookie scrap of paper that turned out wiser than I expected. And I’ll try to remember that philosophy is not about lofty words on a page. It’s about how you hold yourself when the phone rings at 3 a.m., how you respond when plans dissolve, how you see both the bitter and the sweet.
Marcus and Seneca remind us: surprises are not intruders. They are part of the order of things. To embrace them is to live in step with nature itself.
And maybe that is the real fortune. Not that life will protect us from pain, but that it will give us endless chances to practice courage, patience, and love.
