The surprise of history is how little we’re responsible for our result.

Younger, who has time to reflect? We’re too busy being to think. Parents properly persuade us of our autonomy and authority: “You can do it, kid – way to go!” When we score high or overcome hurdles, hurray for us. Of course, we had it in us!

We choose, we’re convinced, our colleges, careers, spouses, places. If we win a lottery, it wasn’t all luck! Hindsight flatteringly detects destiny. We were dispatched to be who we were!

As a plane rises from earth details resolve into patterns. So with looking rearward, if we live that long. We matter less and less, typify more and more. I did what I did because my moment dictated. I selected my career from those on offer. I won this or that prize because I had the chance and the knack. I boarded my life and buckled in; I did not build the plane or chart my course.

At first this discovery humiliates. We enjoyed feeling like big fish in our little ponds. How insulting this demotion from “quite something” to “no big deal.” Some summon God to redress this indignity: yes, He loves you singular, in your particularity, not just you plural, a galactic phenomenon.

I’m sure God loves me. I’m also (almost) sure God’s an emanation of my ambition. When He visited me, He was real as can be – as real as you are now, as I type these words, whistled here because I need you. Thank you for coming.

I chose little of who I am or what I’ve done. Two powers ruled every instant – Fate and Accident – which are easily mistaken for one. I did what I did because I could and because my hour directed. I fit into an existing slot.

The more I think, the more comforting that awareness. Of course I fell short, because my dream was of a time that’s vanished. I could never have been Shakespeare, say, because Shakespeare was the product of his hour. The novelty of literacy, the emergence of theater, the thrill of individuality, the surprising license of the state combined with Shakespeare’s genius to light a bonfire. He was in the right place at the right time with the right talent. Similarly, no one could have been me – or you – because we are the product of our hour. My job is to be the best me possible. To that extent, at least, I have free will.

Irresponsibility for our result insensibly soothes the soul. Our culture measures success by external accomplishments – achievements, wealth, power, popularity, etc. – which are never enough, because there’s always more. Success is not what we have but who we are – and the only verdict that counts is our own. Did I do my best is my question for the last day. If so, rest in peace.

The agitation of our time is a failure of intelligence. Folks are angry because they’re asking for what they cannot have. We cannot buy peace of mind, we must think our way there. History puts us in our place, which is a good one, if we use our heads. No facts can make America great, only attitudes, and our attitudes are up to us.

To rejoice in one’s moment is not to assert its perfection. Humans are the improving animal: never satisfied, we can always envision better.

We should pursue better – tirelessly – but not at the expense of now. Be glad where you are – for that’s the only place you can be. Quit whining, take up wondering. If you’re angry, be angry at yourself.