Spontaneity
“You only live once.” Short and sweet. A reminder to seize the moment, no matter how impulsive. It’s a phrase I often quote, but rarely fully embrace.
For me, life is all about meticulous planning and execution: my parents encourage me to create a schedule to manage academic responsibilities; the school pushes me down a specialized path towards college; my boss assigns me tasks to complete. Adhering to well-laid-out plans is second nature to me. Even the culture highlights the value of planning, advertising websites such as Monday.com to manage tasks, distributing free planners, and promoting productivity workshops to reinforce the narrative that structure is essential for success.
In these structured days, unpredictability feels foreign and unsettling. Is it reckless abandon, or just a momentary break from the routine? The line is thin.
Even so, during my rare and fleeting moments of spontaneity, I find surprising delight— a sense of freedom in seizing the unexpected, in letting go of self-imposed expectations. I’ve found that the most memorable moments come when you least expect them.
I didn’t grasp the delight of spontaneity until recently; on a hot, sticky, summer afternoon, I sat at my computer, pillows propped behind my neck, ensnared in the rigidity of my routine. My goal for the next hour was to finish my CommonApp essay. I stared at the blank Google document, desperate for any idea to come to fruition. The pressure of my planned schedule was weighing heavily on me. What if I didn’t finish? Would I have to push back my next task? That seemed absurd.
Just then, a text from Clare, my childhood best friend, came in, disrupting the monotony of my thoughts. Hey, wanna go pier jumping at Tai Tam Pier now? It was an unexpected invitation, but seemed to be the perfect chance for a brief escape, so I agreed.
We met at the pier, bags slung over our shoulders, swimsuits under our clothes. The sun cast its golden rays over the water as the scent of saltwater wafted through the air. We stood together at the edge with our toes curled over, gazing out across the vast ocean. The open, deep blue water invited us to adventure, yet intimidated us with its unknown depths.
No lifeguards, no contingency plans: just us and the sea. The pier felt isolated from the bustling streets a mile away, the usual noise of fast-moving cars and loud crowds replaced by the steady rhythm of waves crashing against wooden pilings.
“3, 2, 1.”
Without second thoughts, we jumped in. A cold wave slapped my body but I didn’t register the chill. Our heads eventually bobbed up like buoys. We laughed, rubbing the saltwater out of our eyes. The plunge brought a giddy sense of joy in me, a child-like thrill I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Floating in the vast open ocean together, I came to realize how trivial my CommonApp issues were. Temporarily, the pressures of deadlines faded away, replaced by the simple joy of being in the moment. I focused on the clarity of the water, the taste of salt in my lips, the vibrancy of the blue sky. I was simply present.
Spontaneity isn’t just about breaking routine, but experiencing life in its most exhilarating form. It’s in these unplanned moments that the world feels more vivid, more alive. I don’t have to abandon structure completely, but rather, I need to find a balance between planning and seizing the spontaneous moments of delight that make life worth living.
I can’t live vicariously through myself, after all. If I “only live once,” why not embrace the beauty of living fully?