When You Least Expect It
Coincidence. Happenstance. Synchronicity. Serendipity. Dumb luck.
Some may call these the words of a pessimist. But I argue that they belong to the tongues of a realist. Because when it comes to the meaningful experiences in life, they seem to follow the more chaotic path of randomness rather than the paved path of certainty.
In my 32 years of life experience on this good green earth, I have yet to meet a single successful individual who has told me, “Yes Alvin, yes, I planned this whole thing all along.” Quite the contrary. The portrait of their life is never black and white — but colored by multiple gradients of uncertainty and contrasted by a few splashes of luck. Often times, more than a few splashes.
My father, a person of power at the company he works for, told me he never planned nor expected to climb this high on the organizational ladder. My former boss, also a high corporate achiever, told me he “couldn’t believe he got away with it” when I asked him about his rapid ascendance up the corporate ladder. My cousin, a severe dyslexic and now head of marketing at a prominent real estate development firm, said, “I have no idea how I got here.” Within the seemingly strategic and systematic world of the professional, the frequency of unplanned but successful trajectories seems peculiar.
This non-linear, “stumbling towards success” phenomenon does not only happen in the world of the professional. It also occurs rather often in the world of close and intimate relationships. It has been my experience that the most meaningful and fulfilling relationships in my life have come about through pure happenstance — not effortful search. They have appeared out of dumb luck and meaningless meanderings through life — not through intentional assemblance.
I met my oldest — and still best friend to this day — at kindergarten, at the age of four. For reasons too complex to possibly comprehend, our paths crossed at such an early age, and have continued ever since. Clearly, neither of us had any part in that meet up. All the credit goes to lady luck on that one.
Or take the example of my ex — a person I still respect, adore, and keep in touch with today. We met randomly during the first day of an accounting class that we both took whilst undergoing our master’s degree. I arrived late to class and there was only one seat left —which happened to be right next to hers. That was over 10 years ago. Today she has an adorable 4-year-old son, a loving husband, and a supportive friend in me. Consider if that one seat had been occupied by someone else, or if I had not been late to class. Things would have unfolded very differently.
There was also this maid who lived in our house. A very old, wrinkly lady who could not have been taller than 5 feet. But her lack of stature was more than compensated by the breadth of her love and nurture. She worked for our family for over 40 years. She took care of my mother when she was an infant. She subsequently took care of me and my siblings when we were infants. Again, I had no part in choosing her as a warm maternal figure during the formative years of my childhood. But I still think about her to this very day. And suspect I will do so for the rest of my life.
It is rather amusing how things have panned out. The successes that I retrieved through intentional hard work and grind have invariably been the least fulfilling ones so far. The master’s degree, the academic awards, the weight loss, the real estate deals — all were difficult to attain, all were useful and well appreciated in their own place. But nevertheless, all fell short in bringing about contentment.
It seems that contentment — this elusive being that we continuously search for — is rather cheeky by nature. The more one looks for it, the more it turns into a mirage. Just like one’s own shadow, contentment is only visible when conditions are sunny, whilst it immediately disappears when conditions get dark. And just like sand, the act of clinging on to it will only push it away through one’s fingers. One must hold it gently and effortlessly for it to stay in place.
Maybe it is rather futile to try to become the grand architects of our lives. Or to even pretend that one has the capacity to create a master blueprint for the long-term mechanics of one’s life. The more I mature, the more I realize that contentment can only be effortlessly found — rather than effortfully built. The act of trying to find, build, or achieve contentment may be the very antithesis of contentment itself.
As odd as this may sound, the feeling of contentment is rather like a taxi. During my middle school yesteryears, way before the advent of ride-hailing apps, I used to travel by taxi quite a bit. Back then, I had not gotten my license yet, and public transportation in Jakarta left much to be desired for. But these elusive commercial automobiles — like contentment — were usually very frustrating and difficult to find.
It is in their nature to only show up during the most random of moments — usually moments when you are not looking for them. When randomly crossing the street, you often see one nearby. When taking out the trash, one will randomly pass by in front of the house. But when you need to find one urgently — they are nowhere to be found.
Given their elusive and ephemeral nature, I remember making a joke about these irking automobiles at the labile age of 14. It goes like this:
“What is the quickest way to find a taxi?”
“By not looking for one.”
In hindsight, that joke is more insightful than it is funny. But it gets the point across nicely. Paradoxically, there is an inherent contentment in the act letting go of the need to continuously search for contentment. As it is often found in the unplanned idiosyncrasies, the random happenstances, and the arbitrary moments in life. Moments when you least expect it.
