Murphy's Law, Amor Fati, and a Broken Lawn Mower

Yesterday morning, less than 24 hours before I was supposed to leave for Colorado for our Recovery Unbroken fall retreat, my main lawn mower broke down.

Of course it did.

I had a full schedule of lawns to finish, a trip to prepare for, and every intention of getting home early so I could relax, finish packing, and enjoy the anticipation of getting away.

Apparently, my mower had other plans.

I could feel the frustration building. The timing couldn't have been worse. Of all the days this could have happened, why today?

We got the mower loaded up and dropped it off at the repair shop. Meanwhile, the six of us attending the retreat had a group chat going, so I decided to have a little fun.

I asked them:

"100 bonus points if someone can give me the correct answer to why my main mower would break down the day before I leave for Colorado."

The answers started coming in.

One of them was Murphy's Law.

And that's when my mind went somewhere completely unexpected.

Who the hell was Murphy?

And how miserable must this poor guy's life have been that we named an entire law after everything going wrong?

I started laughing.

And somewhere in that ridiculous thought, I realized I'd stopped spiraling about the mower.

Poor Murphy

Curiosity eventually got the better of me, so I looked him up.

Turns out, Edward A. Murphy Jr. wasn't some unfortunate guy wandering through life with a permanent rain cloud over his head.

He was an American aerospace engineer working on rocket sled experiments in 1949.

The story behind Murphy's Law involves an experiment where sensors were installed incorrectly, resulting in failed measurements. The experience helped give rise to an engineering principle about anticipating the ways something could go wrong.

Over time, that idea became the familiar saying:

"If anything can go wrong, it will."

But what caught my attention was the difference between what Murphy was getting at and how we tend to use his name today.

His concern was preparing for things that could go wrong.

We tend to invoke his law when something already has.

And I started thinking about how much time we spend asking why something is happening to us instead of figuring out what we're going to do about it.

The mower was broken.

I could spend the rest of my day being pissed off about the timing, but that wasn't going to fix it.

I still had lawns to mow.

And Colorado was still waiting.

The Day Wasn't Over

After dropping off the mower, we picked up my 60-inch Turf Tracer, a machine we don't use very often.

There's something about that mower I'd been wanting to teach Graham.

When we got back to work at our first property, I made a decision.

Even though I was already behind schedule and wanted to finish early, I stopped and took the time to show him.

A few lawns later, I passed my favorite raspberry patch.

I stopped again.

There were only a few raspberries left, probably the last ones I'd pick this season. So I picked them.

And then I stood there for a moment and let the warm sun hit my face.

Nothing extraordinary.

Just a dad teaching his son something, a handful of raspberries, and a little sunshine.

But I was enjoying my day again.

The mower was still broken. We still had work to finish. I still had a flight to catch in the morning.

None of that had changed.

And yet, everything about how I was experiencing the day had.

Amor Fati

There's a philosophical idea I've come to appreciate called Amor Fati.

It's Latin for "love of fate," and it's closely associated with Friedrich Nietzsche.

Nietzsche challenged the idea that we should merely endure the things life brings us. His ideal was something more demanding: to love what is necessary, including the parts of life we wouldn't have chosen.

There's a connection here to Stoicism, too. We don't always get to decide what happens around us, but we can decide what we do with what happens.

Now, I'm not going to pretend I loved having my mower break down.

I didn't.

And I don't think appreciating life requires us to celebrate every frustrating or painful thing that happens.

But I am beginning to understand something about embracing life as it actually unfolds instead of constantly wishing it were unfolding differently.

Yesterday wasn't the day I'd planned.

But it was the day I had.

And there were things worth experiencing in it.

I could have spent the afternoon mentally somewhere else, worrying about the repair bill, the schedule, and everything I needed to accomplish before leaving.

Instead, I got to spend a little time teaching Graham.

I enjoyed those last raspberries.

I felt the sunshine.

None of those things required the mower to be fixed first.

Because Life Is Life

We ended up finishing every lawn on Tuesday's list.

Later, the repair shop called. The zero-turn was fixed and would be ready for pickup in the morning.

I went home, enjoyed dinner with Rita, and we took our dog for a walk.

The trip was still happening.

My upgraded airplane seat with the extra legroom was still waiting for me. So were the Rocky Mountains and the friends I was looking forward to seeing.

And before the day was over, I returned to our group chat to announce the winner of my little contest.

"All fantastic answers. The correct answer we were looking for is... because life is life. 😉"

That's really what it came down to.

Sometimes the mower breaks down the day before vacation.

Sometimes the repair shop calls with good news.

Sometimes you get the chance to teach your son something you've been meaning to show him.

Sometimes there are a few raspberries left on the bushes and the sun feels particularly good on your face.

We spend so much time wishing away the parts of life that inconvenience us, as though they're interruptions to the life we're supposed to be living.

But what if they're not interruptions?

What if they're simply part of it?

Not because everything happens for a reason.

Not because every setback has some hidden blessing.

Simply because life includes all of it.

The frustration. The laughter. The broken mower. The raspberries. The sunshine. The anticipation of tomorrow.

All of it.

Life is life.