Hey there,

Quick reminder before we dive in: my new book club -- The Bibliosopher's Club -- starts this Saturday, July 1st! You can still secure your spot before we start reading Dopamine Nation by Dr. Anna Lembke.

When I first got the idea to start this club, I figured a handful of people would sign up. But now, an overwhelming amount of readers have already subscribed -- nearly 100 bibliosophers. And we haven't even started reading yet! So, thank you.

If you want to join the fun, you can subscribe here. If not, no biggie.

And now, let's get on to today's idea.

The slot machine of fate

A few weeks ago, I finished Fast Genial -- a book by Benedict Wells, one of my favorite German authors. The book ends with this scene that stuck with me long after reading.

It goes like this (spoiler alert!): The main character, Francis, plays Roulette in a Las Vegas Casino. Half a million dollars are on the line, and he's about to double or lose everything. For Francis -- who grew up in poverty without a father, who became a dad in his teens, and whose Mom is mentally ill -- this is it. This moment will decide if he'll live the rest of his life in poverty or if he can change his fate and care for his son, his girlfriend, his mom. But then, unexpectedly, that's where the book ends. You never find out if Francis goes on to win or lose. So of course, once I flipped the last page, I was like: What?! C'mon, Benedict, you can't do this to me.

But the ending achieved its intended effect. It stuck with me for weeks after reading it, and I conjured myriad scenarios of how Francis' life might continue. It was as if I was the roulette-playing Francis myself -- not least because it reminded me of my own life.

***

Over the past few years, I've gone through lots of life changes: moving cities, moving countries, changing careers, changing friends, changing lifestyles. You know, as one does in their 20s. But for me, this habit of constant life changes has become so stark that I came up with a name for it: the slot machine of fate.

I started to wonder: Why am I so addicted to the slot machine of fate? What makes the concept of starting all over so exhilarating? One explanation might be the fresh start effect. It's the psychological phenomenon that experiencing a new beginning provides a motivational power booster. After all, fresh starts help us let go of the past and see the big picture. They give us hope. Direction. Clarity. One typical example is January 1st, the beginning of a new year. But it could be anything: moving to a new city, starting a new semester, getting a new job. Heck, even Mondays are kind of a fresh start for most of us.

In theory, this sounds nice and dandy. But in my case, the fresh start effect has chained me to the slot machine of fate. Whenever I pull the metaphorical lever to change my life -- say, by moving to a new country or starting a new study program -- the feeling of anticipation and change feels intoxicating. For a while. But soon, the fresh start effect wears off, and I get the urge to pull the lever again. To change my life, again. To start over, again.

And again, and again, and again.

See, what makes fresh starts so addicting is that they could -- potentially -- change your life. Wiping your life's slate clean and gambling with new beginnings is mysterious and enticing because you never know what's going to happen. It feels risky. And exhilarating. And delicious. What will the slot machine of fate bring this time? Maybe this time I get the jackpot? Maybe I just need to play one more time?

But of course, we tend to crave the idea of changing our lives more than the actual change. For instance, the dream job of US teens is to become an influencer. Fair enough. But if you look at influencers' lives, it becomes obvious that they're shaped by enormous pressure, stress, and constant exposure. It's not as dreamy as it seems.

Ultimately, the slot machine of fate makes it seem as if we just need this one thing, and all our life problems will be solved. And of course, "this one thing" could be anything: ordering stuff on Amazon, applying for a new job, making more money, et cetera.

***

Recently, I've been feeling the urge to pull the lever again. I've been wanting to move countries, start a new career, sell all my stuff, find new hobbies, new friends, new clothes, new everything. I've been craving to be like the language of a sports commentator: no past, no pauses -- only passion and present tense.

But when the urge overwhelms me, I try to remember the ending of Fast Genial. As enticing as it seems to find out how a life path continues, maybe, sometimes, it's better not to know. Sometimes, it's better to leave certain doors closed -- as mysterious as they might seem -- and keep going in one direction.

Some fresh starts are necessary. There's no doubt about that. Many of the changes I made in the past years fundamentally shaped my life for the better. But it's just like in gambling: there's a point where you should count your winnings and leave the casino.

I'm not sure if I'll manage to abstain from the slot machine of fate. Sometimes the itch to pull the lever returns. But right now, I try to find contentment and tranquility in doing the same things every day: getting up early, working out, running, making fresh coffee in the morning, writing, reading. Maybe that's called getting old. And maybe that's not such a bad thing. Maybe we need to gamble with the slot machine of fate until we find out that chasing ever-shifting goalposts is not the answer.

Until next time,

Stephan

Thanks for reading! To respond, just hit reply. I love getting questions, feedback, and comments and they're (by far) my biggest motivators to keep writing this newsletter. If you know someone who'd enjoy this email, simply forward it or share this link: [ARCHIVE URL GOES HERE].