If I thought that any of this was pre ordained, then it takes

In the age of machines and restless hearts, the singer and dreamer Gary Numan spoke words that echoed with timeless truth: “If I thought that any of this was preordained, then it takes away any kind of incentive to struggle, or to put up with things, to reach for those impossible dreams, all those dramatic things.” Hear, O seeker of purpose, for within this saying lies the eternal tension between fate and freedom — the question that has haunted humankind since the first dawn of consciousness. Shall we be mere actors on a stage already scripted, or shall we be the authors of our own becoming?

Numan’s words rise from the fire of rebellion, a defiance against the tyranny of preordained destiny. He rejects the idea that life is written before it is lived, that struggle is meaningless and triumph already decided. For if all is fated, then the heart grows still; the soul no longer hungers for greatness, nor endures the storm to find its strength. He speaks for those who believe that struggle itself is sacred — that it is in the striving, in the reaching, that humanity finds its dignity. The wind may be fierce, the climb steep, but if the summit were already promised, what glory would there be in the ascent?

In the chronicles of old, we find this same truth embodied in the tale of Prometheus, the Titan who stole fire from the gods to give to humankind. He knew his punishment awaited him, yet he acted — not because he was destined to, but because he chose to. His suffering was his freedom; his defiance, his meaning. So too does Gary Numan’s creed teach that we are not bound by celestial decree, but by the courage we forge in the face of uncertainty. The incentive to struggle — that divine restlessness — is what separates the living from the merely existing.

To believe that nothing is written is to reclaim one’s own divinity. It is to stand, trembling yet unbroken, before the chaos of the world and say: “I will give this shape.” The ancients called this the fire of will, the spark that makes gods of mortals. Those who surrender to preordination drift through life like leaves upon the current, blaming the river for every bend. But those who believe in choice, who hold fast to their impossible dreams, they carve their own channel through the rock. They make of the river something new.

And yet, this teaching does not deny the mystery of the universe. There are forces unseen, patterns that stretch beyond human sight. But Numan reminds us that even within the vast machinery of fate, there remains one sacred domain untouched — the heart’s decision to act. The stars may govern the tides, but they do not command the soul’s longing. Whether one succeeds or fails matters less than the act of striving itself. The worth of a life is measured not in outcomes, but in the courage to reach, again and again, despite the darkness.

Reflect, then, upon those who changed the course of history — Galileo, who refused to silence truth though the Church thundered against him; Harriet Tubman, who returned to danger again and again to free her people; Gary Numan himself, who forged a new sound despite the world’s confusion. None of these souls waited for destiny’s permission. They understood that the path forward is made by walking it, and that even in failure, there is nobility.

So, let this wisdom be passed to you, child of the future: Do not bow before the illusion of fate. The universe may be vast, but your will is not small. Struggle is your birthright; choice is your gift; dreams are your compass. When the night grows long and despair whispers that all is already written, remember — it is not the stars that define you, but the fire that burns within. Rise, therefore, and write your own destiny with the ink of effort, the quill of hope, and the parchment of time itself.