Fate. Does it really exist?

There are 2 very similar, though not precisely exact and overlapping, words in the English language for a foreordained present: destiny and fate. Fate is the grimmer one, although it also has overtones of normalized seriousness. Destiny is more lite and avoidable. Fate grabs you by the cojones and doesn’t let go.

So then. Fate. Or destiny, or whatever you want to call it. Is it an operating function in the human system?

I think there is a tendency toward fate. I think that, say, Hitler when he was growing up was nearly fated to become an important man. I think his brain was wired in such a way that he was going to try for it. That is a kind of fate.

The vast majority of human beings give up their agency when they enter adulthood. They surrender their selves to larger systems and social structures that come to dominate their existences in every way. Those who are “fated” to resist stand a chance at becoming Names in the history books. These men — and it is always men — have a drive that is most becoming. It is beautiful, in a word.

Is there a role for luck in fate? Hitler wasn’t killed in World War I, though a shell explosion demolished his base building when he was out chasing his dog. (According to the docudrama The Rise of Evil.) He could have been killed. He wasn’t. Luck? Or more fate?

To be driven is to throw off the cloak of politeness and enter into a blacker realm. It is to dance with fate, one on one, a waltz, a tango, a salsa, and to finish the dance, not out of breath, but invigorated, knowing that one day one will get a shot at things.

Men seem to recognize the aura of fate on select few of their fellows. They give ground to these chosen individuals. General MacArthur in World War 2 had a bit of the fate thing hovering like a halo about his forehead. He pushed it to the limit when he demanded the right to use nukes against the onrushing Chinese, and a greater character — the President — gave him the strong pimp hand of “no.”

Consider the case of Bill Clinton. He was selected as a child to go to Washington and shake the hand of President Kennedy. Even then he was being marked off, separated from the pack. Or take the case of Donald Trump, who, as a young businessman, went on early Oprah show and she asked him if he wanted to be president. People talk. They wag their tongues. They salve your great hanging hairy Balls with their tongues, giving virtual pleasure.

Another fated individual was Wayne Gretzky of hockey fame. Here was a kid who was a scoring machine as a child. The fans didn’t like it very much causing Gretzky to shift to an assist-scoring mode, where he passed the puck off to skilled teammates for the goal. He was fated to be a great player, but his personality — his essence — set him up for assists rather than goals. He didn’t so much choose to be great — it was inborn in his genes and his engraved nature. But he did choose to hand off the puck rather than selfishly keep it like the player who is currently threatening to challenge his goals record.

When fate calls, on a tin whistle, you have to listen. Several musicians can be considered fated. Sting of England might be considered one. He was almost inevitably going to succeed. With his brains, and his looks, and one of the most pleasantly distinctive voices around, he was fated to become a Force in the music scene.

I once asked a musician fellow student at the University of Waterloo which group he thought was going to last in time and be celebrated. He said the Police. I think he would still stick with that answer, and the biggest, fated component of the Police was Sting. Sting wrote the lyrics, belted out the verses. Sting was the glowing frontman of it all.

I think ordinary people play a part in fate by encouraging the special ones in their pursuits. Somebody told Bryan Adams at a young age that he could sing. More than one somebody, probably. He was still a youth when he released You Want It, You Got It. When the sweet siren song of praise fills your ears, you can do anything.

At my own website, I get encouragement from others that I am special. Truthfully, I don’t need the words. I know I am special — fated, as it were. In another article, I am going to explain that “I am the Mule.” Science fiction fans will know what I’m going to write about.

There is a future for me in particular. Sometimes I get weak and don’t follow through the way I should. But most of the time I’m very strong. Fate runs through my veins like cyan blue neon blood.

When you believe you have destiny on your side, things change in your life. Problems seem less big. Advantages accrue to you more easily. And people seem to sense a change in you.