by M. Joseph Boehler

Perhaps the mistake we most often make about life is the way we have chosen to define it, or, more precisely, the expectations we attach to that definition.

We possess some of existence's most exquisite gifts: the awareness to perceive and the capacity to feel. Yet far too often we keep those gifts at arm's length, as if opening them might spill something fragile beyond our control.

When love is reduced to a checklist: ideal moments, perfect harmony, constant ease, we imprison it in a cage of expectation. When we measure our days against a blueprint of milestones, achievements, and relentless progress, we forget that those markers are social constructs, while the world itself is alive, shifting beneath our feet.

What follows? We stand on the edge of possibility, watching it drift past, and we hesitate, fearing that stepping forward will expose our flaws. Caution masquerades as wisdom, and in doing so we deny ourselves the very experiences that could teach us how to live, and love, with true depth.

Imagine instead approaching life as an ongoing dialogue rather than a contract, allowing it to breathe, to falter, to rise again. Life rises and recedes like a tide of breath; we cannot escape this nature of things. So, instead of a race towards predetermined checkpoints, see life as a series of moments—each one a chance to listen, to love, to be present.

The paradox is simple: the tighter we cling to rigid definitions, the less room remains for spontaneous experiences that make life radiant. The looser we become with our expectations, the wider the horizon opens for an authentic existence.

Thus we must practice unlearning the scripts that bind us. Let love arrive raw and unfinished, and allow life to unfold in rhythms we did not design. In that gentle surrender lies the freedom to experience the most beautiful of gifts, without reservation.

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Author's Note: When I titled this piece Unscripting Life, the very act of coining "unscripting" mirrors the essay's invitation: to loosen the grip of predefined labels and let language itself breathe. Because the term is freshly minted, spell-checkers will likely flag it as a typo; a reminder that even our tools are still bound by the scripts we've written for them. That small act of creation, a quiet rebellion, serves as a wink to you that the work is consciously stepping outside the comfort zone of convention.

In this way, the irony is purposeful: this piece argues for living without rigid definitions, and its own title refuses to be neatly defined. I hope the word caught your eye and made you pause; that pause is the moment this art seeks to create, a space where we notice the scripts we rely on and consider what might happen if we let them go.