We can't plan life. All we can do is be available for it.

“We can’t plan life. All we can do is be available for it.” — so spoke Lauryn Hill, the poet of soul and rhythm, whose music carries both the ache and the light of human truth. In this quiet revelation lies a wisdom as old as the mountains and as new as each dawn: that life is not a script to be written, but a river to be entered. To live fully, one must surrender the illusion of control and instead awaken to the current of existence — not resisting it, but flowing with it. Hill, who walked away from fame to seek inner truth, knew well that the world’s plans often crumble, while the heart’s calling endures.

When Lauryn Hill uttered these words, she was not preaching resignation, but awakening. Her life had been one of meteoric rise — a gifted singer, actress, and writer, whose art touched millions. Yet at the height of her success, she withdrew from the spotlight, disillusioned with the machinery of fame and the emptiness it often conceals. In that silence, she discovered something sacred: that the soul cannot be managed like a career, nor can destiny be designed like architecture. Life unfolds not through mastery, but through presence. We cannot plan the divine; we can only be available when it arrives.

The ancients understood this truth well. Lao Tzu, the sage of the Tao, wrote, “Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Do not resist them; that only creates sorrow.” To plan too tightly is to build walls against the wind. To live, one must learn to bend like bamboo, to trust that even the unforeseen has meaning. Lauryn Hill’s words echo that same spirit — the wisdom of the yielding, the power of surrender. It is not weakness to release control; it is courage to walk in uncertainty, guided by faith in the unfolding of things greater than ourselves.

Consider the story of Nelson Mandela, imprisoned for twenty-seven years in a narrow cell. No plan could have charted his path — from prisoner to president, from outcast to liberator. He could not foresee the twists of fate, but he remained available to life — open to its lessons, even in suffering. In confinement, he learned patience, forgiveness, and resilience. When the gates finally opened, he stepped forward not as a man embittered, but as one transformed. His life was not planned; it was received, moment by moment, with humility and strength. Thus, he embodied the truth that life’s greatest works are born not of control, but of surrender to purpose.

Lauryn Hill’s message, then, is not a call to passivity, but to presence. We may make plans, yes — but we must hold them lightly, knowing that life will often rewrite them in its own language. The wise do not cling to their designs when the storm comes; they adjust their sails. To “be available for life” is to remain awake, ready to respond to what each moment asks of us — whether it is action or stillness, grief or joy, loss or love. It is to trust that even detours and delays carry hidden gifts for those who remain open-hearted.

For in truth, control is the illusion of the fearful mind, while availability is the strength of the awakened spirit. The planner fears uncertainty and seeks to bind the future in chains of expectation. But the available soul walks with faith, knowing that the unknown is not the enemy — it is the teacher. To live this way requires humility, patience, and courage, for the path will not always be clear. Yet it is in the unplanned moments — the chance meeting, the sudden heartbreak, the unexpected dawn — that life reveals its deepest meaning.

So, dear seeker, learn from Lauryn Hill’s wisdom: do not plan every breath, but be present for each one. Make your efforts, but do not worship your designs. When life calls you off your map, go willingly, for that is where growth begins. Be still enough to hear the whisper of intuition, brave enough to follow it, and humble enough to change when truth demands it. For life, like music, cannot be confined to notes alone — it must be improvised, felt, and lived from the soul.

And when you find yourself lost — when plans crumble, and the road disappears into mist — do not despair. Remember Lauryn Hill’s gentle truth: life does not need you to control it. It needs you to be available — awake, open, and ready to receive its miracles. For those who meet life with an open heart will never be lost; they will simply be led, one divine step at a time.