Man Up, Make a Choice

How ‘Amor Fati’—Loving What Is—Becomes Daily Bravery

Too many of us fall into the trap: the past—old relationships, financial entanglementnts, decades-old trauma—devours today’s victories, chaining us to yesterday. Breaking free is a choice. Every moment, we decide: do we let life drag us along, mired in grudges or future fears, or do we seize it, embracing what’s here with gusto? That takes guts—raw, daily courage to stare down life’s mess and say, “I choose this anyway.”

We see the cost of dodging that choice in Rick from The White Lotus. He’s got it all: a stunning girlfriend, Chelsea, who’s fiercely devoted (perhaps pathologically so), and he’s at a luxurious Thai resort. Yet he’s miserable, haunted by a decades-old chimera, convinced revenge will quiet his mind. You want to shake him: “Stop chasing ghosts! You’ve got love, health, freedom—why pick misery?” His cowardice shines through—not in his obsession, but in his refusal to face the present. Fittingly, the finale’s titled Amor Fati—a hint he never grasps.

The phrase, Latin for “love of fate,” translates better as “loving what is.” It’s the thread running through Mike White’s seasons of flawed, discontented souls, and Rick’s no exception. We ache for him because his tragedy feels familiar: if he’d only let go, he could live. Instead, he hands the wheel to revenge, proving it’s easier to hide in the past than to stand up and embrace now.

This is Amor Fati—a daily flex of willpower. Marcus Aurelius captured it in Meditations: “Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.” Epictetus echoes it in the Enchiridion: “Will events to happen as they do, and your life will go smoothly.” Nietzsche, who coined the motto, takes it further in Thus Spoke Zarathustra, calling it his “formula for greatness”: “That one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity… but love it.” It’s not passive endurance—it’s active, enthusiastic yes to life.

Rick can’t say yes. Too weak to shrug off old wounds, he lets anger consume him. 

Don’t be like Rick. Address what’s eating you—use a tool like the RTNC method, a simple framework to confront and release old wounds, if you need it—then move on.

Letting go isn’t weakness; it’s courage.

It’s choosing to drive your life instead of surrendering the wheel to past hurts or the people who caused them. Are you in control, or is yesterday still calling the shots?

So, man up. Cut the cord today—tool or no tool—and be free. You’ve got the wheel. Drive.