Riding What Is
Some ideas reshape the road beneath your wheels. Not because the road itself changes, but because your way of riding it does. One of those ideas is the Stoic principle of Amor Fati — “love of fate.”
“To love only what happens, what was destined. No greater harmony.” — Epictetus
Not just acceptance. Not tolerance. But love — of everything that happens.
At first glance, it sounds like a line from a self-help meme. But it’s not about pretending things are fine when they’re not, or pasting a smile over pain. Amor Fati is something deeper. It’s a shift in how we meet life — especially the hard bits.
Nietzsche’s Challenge
Friedrich Nietzsche, who popularised the phrase in modern times, said it like this:
“My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity.”
He wasn’t writing this from a place of comfort. Nietzsche suffered from ill health, loneliness, and misunderstanding. And yet, he advocated not only for the endurance of suffering, but its embrace — as a necessary part of becoming who we are meant to be.
Finding Grace in the Gravel
In motorcycling terms, it’s a bit like learning to love the ride in all weather. The blistering heat. The sideways rain. The rough terrain and aching shoulders. You don’t have to enjoy every moment, but you learn to see each part of the journey as necessary. And even beautiful, in its way.
I’ve had rides like that — both literal and metaphorical. Times when nothing went to plan. A breakdown in the middle of nowhere. A wrong turn that cost me hours. A crash that taught me something my pride didn’t want to hear. And then, in hindsight, the realisation that those very moments shaped the rider I am now.
The Gift Inside the Detour
There was one trip I remember clearly. I had taken a detour — both in route and in life. Nothing was going as expected. I was soaked, lost, and tired. I dropped the bike trying to park on an awkward camber. I remember sitting on the curb beside it, frustrated beyond words. But looking back, it was one of the turning points. That trip taught me to ask for help. To find humour in the chaos. To stop demanding that everything unfold the way I imagined it should.
That’s the lesson of Amor Fati. You don’t just look back at what happened and accept it. You eventually come to love that it happened exactly that way – because it shaped you.
The Road You Didn’t Choose
The things you think are stopping you might actually be the path itself. The job you didn’t get. The race you didn’t win. The injury that slowed you down. The heartbreak that brought you to your knees. These aren’t detours. They’re part of the route. And the only way out is through.
It’s not easy, of course. Amor Fati asks something big of us. It asks us to stop fighting reality. It asks us to give up the illusion that we were owed a different story. But in that surrender, something powerful happens — you get your agency back.
Like a Rider Reads the Road
You stop waiting for life to give you the conditions you think you need. And you start meeting life as it is, not as you wish it would be. That’s when things get interesting. That’s when you learn to ride not just the smooth curves, but the potholes too.
As motorcyclists, we know what it means to adjust to the road beneath us. We read the terrain, lean into corners, ride through rain, trust our tyres. We don’t shout at the gravel — we navigate it. Amor Fati is the same, only for life.
Turning Resistance Into Resilience
You learn to read your own resistance. To notice where you’re still clinging to “what should have been.” And then — if you’re lucky, and a bit brave — you let go. You lean in. You ride on.
Sometimes, I think of fate not as something fixed, but as something forged — in real time, by how we respond. And if we meet it fully, it transforms us. It strips away illusion. It makes us more real. More aware. More alive.
This Is the Way
This post is part of a larger journey — ten reflections on how Stoic thought intersects with motorcycling, and what both can teach us about freedom, resilience, and living well. So far, we’ve explored the idea that the obstacle is the way, and the importance of choosing your line. But none of that really works without Amor Fati. Without the willingness to accept the whole ride — every bump and beauty — you’ll always be at odds with the road.
So here’s my invitation: the next time life veers off course, try whispering Amor Fati under your breath. See what happens when you stop fighting the detour. You might just find, as I did, that the so-called mistake was exactly the lesson you needed to grow.
Until next time,
Louisa (The Existential Biker)
Time is short. Don’t waste the ride.
Third in a ten-part series exploring Stoic wisdom through the lens of two wheels. Read the full series or pre-order the book below:
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