To summarize Shakespeare’s famous soliloquy…
“To be or not to be” dives into the ultimate question: should we keep dragging ourselves through life’s mess, or just tap out? Hamlet wonders if it’s better to face life’s endless chaos or take “the easy way out.” But then, what if the afterlife is just as bad—or worse? That dreaded “what if” holds him (and let’s be honest, probably all of us) in place, too uncertain to make any decisions. So, we stick around, tolerating the absurdity, clinging to the hope that one day, maybe things will be different. Fun times.
As for me, each time I moved countries, a version of myself was left behind— a mini existential crisis with a side of evolution. When I left India for Egypt, it was the end of one phase and the start of another. I was a fresh college grad, ready to conquer the world. By the time I reached the UK, I was searching for meaning. When I left London, I was craving stability, which led me to Australia. Life, however, had other plans (read: I’m now in Canada). Now, the Australian me is just another ghost of my past, and here I am, striving for some semblance of establishment. Call it my own personal To Be > Not To Be > To Be… saga, with every new start requiring a part of me to “die.” Every leap forward requiring a tiny internal funeral.
Afterall, death is inevitable—whether it’s the literal kind or just saying goodbye to a former self. Of course, this transformation doesn’t always require a passport stamp. Life’s got plenty of curveballs lined up no matter where you are. At first, change is scary, full of resistance (and maybe a bit of bargaining). We resist it at first because, well, the unknown is basically a horror movie in our heads. This is what Hamlet feared most—the great unknown, that keeps us in limbo. But when I chose “not to be” my old self, and took that plunge, I faced the unfamiliar. Only then could the new me “be” once again, stronger and a little wiser after each leap.
Well, guess what? In the end, Hamlet does die—but not by his own hand. He spends a good chunk of time contemplating an exit strategy, only to be killed in a final act of revenge. The irony? Fate, not Hamlet, decides his end in a bloody duel. All that existential dread, and life takes the choice right out of his hands.
And that’s life: whether we like it or not, it’s happening, and yes, maybe it’s all serendipitous. Whether we willingly let go parts of ourselves or not, life inevitably steps in and does some editing. Sometimes, a catalyst nudges us toward surrender; other times, tragedy pushes us headlong. Either way, I’m learning to lean into it—because if life’s going to decide whether I should be or not be, I might as well sit back and savor the excruciating beauty called growth.
Yes, this is a Halloween Special!
fortuitouspurpose 