Structure // Serendipity
The line between control and letting go
“When you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.” — David Bowie
There’s a dance inside of me between structure and serendipity. Safety and uncertainty. It holds me close and lets me go, spins me around and brings me back again.
I just spent two hours writing a formulaic piece about the balance between the two things but then I remembered: I don’t want to just make you think. I want to make you feel something.
And so here we are. Crumpling up the first draft, on to the second. Less formulaic, more unconstrained.
Which is exactly what I want to talk about: that pull between structure and serendipity. Control and letting go. Knowing exactly what will happen, leaving room for something new.
Some of the most memorable moments of my life were the ones I was not expecting — made even more significant because they were unplanned. Since I had no expectations, I more fully experienced what life was offering me at that moment.
But one cannot exist without the other. Because of the routine and rhythm and repetition, the spontaneous and special and unexpected exist even more brilliantly.
Lately I’ve started looking at myself through the lens of professionality. ‘What do you do?’ seems to be a replacement question for ‘who are you?’ And it still feels like a sweater that fits too tight. As I continue to unravel that question, I remember who I am impacts every area of my life. Who I am influences me professionally, spiritually, emotionally, socially, physically, mentally…. Everything is connected. Everything is connected.
And one of the things that connects to all areas of my life is my preference towards control, contrasted by my desire (and still fear) to let go. I can tell you exactly where I spend my every cent, but if I find some vintage jacket that makes me feel alive? I can tell you many many cents will go to an olive-green trench coat that fits just right.
Recently, this is how I’m starting to operate more and more in my life: control what’s necessary so I can let go when the timing strikes.
A few months ago, I was responsible for planning a 3-day bootcamp for 30 university students. The trip’s goal was to inspire and ignite, filling students with creativity and new ideas. Dreaming and brainstorming beforehand with colleagues was energizing, but turning those ideas into a structured, detailed, precise agenda? It completely killed my vibe.
So I stopped. Put it aside. Made a conscious decision to let go and see what happens. Then I let the rough-draft planning hang out on the shelf of my mind, growling at me to feed it more control, to plan every quarter hour, to detail exact locations and necessary supplies and geographical coordinates and emergency contact numbers and, and, and…
And while it kept growling, I distracted myself with more energizing things. Eventually the day of the event came and the planning was still a rough draft. I was full of nerves and curiosity. I would either succeed or regret the day I didn’t plan things so precisely. Anxiety found me, but it was game time, so I stepped off the side of the pool and into the deep end.
And you know what? We swam. We swam so well. My colleagues, the students, me. Everyone rolled with it. We remained flexible, optimistic, and open to whatever the 3 days presented. At first, some people were uncomfortable with the ambiguity, yeah. But after 3 days, everyone was more confident knowing they just swam successfully.
Both sides are valuable — structure, serendipity — but what’s the line that divides them? I’m still chewing on it, but I think it has something to do with safety. Human beings need safety. I’m also trying to find that line for myself. I’m not so free and open that my whole entire life is one spontaneous adventure. But I’m learning to let go on Tuesday evenings, to cancel my plans, say “forget work, I’m going to the movies.”
One film I recently saw was Moonage Daydream, a fully immersive experience about David Bowie. It’s unlike any film I’d seen before, an incredible soundtrack playing while he reinvents himself again and again. And there must be some structure and rhythm in that, reinventing yourself again and again. A routine for stepping into risk. But he defines the magic of that line perfectly when he says:
“If you feel safe in the area you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you’re capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.” — David Bowie
And I can’t define it any better than that — the difference between structure and serendipity. That difference between when you’re on your feet and when you’re finally swimming.
