fate or formula? (as told by taylor swift)
Do we have a say in our fate, or is it up to crafted formula? Taylor (and myself) weigh in.
If you haven’t been living under a rock, you’ve probably heard that Taylor Swift released a new album last Friday. If you have been living under a rock, good for you. That sounds like a life of peace.
As any Swiftie (or Swiftie-adjacent) knows, with each new wave of music comes a new wave of listens, re-listens, deep analyses, and a re-ranking of which songs fall where on our favorites list.
As of this week, I’ve made some changes to mine. I wasn’t expecting it (I’m more of a ‘folklore’ girlie myself), but “Mastermind” off the Midnights album quickly took a coveted spot in my personal Top 10.
Taylor impressing me with her catchy music and thoughtful lyrics is nothing new. But what’s interesting is that this song lives in stark contrast to one of my other favorites,” invisible string.” Which begs a consequential question: Love – does it come by fate or formula?
Taylor’s take(s)
Previously, the song “invisible string” argues in favor of fate. Taylor recounts her storied life, filled with romantic struggles, rollercoaster ups and downs. Heartbreak. Havoc. Hammers to boys’ hearts. But now she tells her story in retrospect, recounting a thin, golden string, always tying to her beloved. Whether noticed or not, threads of missed connections and shared soul strings were always linking them together, from London to New York and back again. No matter what she did or didn’t do to make such a relationship happen, it happened.
And it’s all owed to fate, at least according to the folklore.
Time, mystical time
Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine
Were there clues I didn't see?
And isn't it just so pretty to think
All along there was some
Invisible string
Tying you to me?
Beautiful, right?
But hold up. In her latest album, Taylor admits something else.
With the release of “Mastermind,” we learn that perhaps those soul-strings, touchpoints, and happenstance accidents, maybe weren’t so accidental after all. (gasp!)
What if I told you
None of it was accidental
And the first night that you saw me
Nothing was gonna stop me
Taylor admits that perhaps she calculated it. The happenstance. The meetings. After seeing her beloved from afar, she admits her hand in forcing fate, setting up the dominos to drop and the chips to fall exactly where she intended. Could it be her love was never fate, but formulaic after all?
The fate of femininity
It would be a disservice to ignore one other piece of the puzzle Taylor chooses to include. After confessing that yes, she may have mastered the system, or made intentional design choices to fix the formula, it’s only because she had to. She explains that the league of love is different women than it is for men, and it’s only because she cared.
You see all the wisest women had to do it this way
'Cause we were born to be the pawn in every lover's game
If you fail to plan, you plan to fail
Strategy sets the scene for the tale
Generally the story goes like this. Men choose. Women are chosen. Failing to plan is planning to fail if you want any say in the game of who you love, and though it may seem harrowing to admit, I don’t know a single woman who hasn’t noticed these dynamics at play, embracing the game, or fighting the system upstream.
Which brings me to my original question. Is this game of life (or love) designed by fate, or formula?
Are we to master the game?
Or let fate decide?
Is there even a “right” answer to it all?
Concluding on holy ground
A friend of mine and I often talk about what it’s like to be part of God’s story. It’s big and beautiful and written as we go, but we both have a tendency to tell God what to write next. I’m ahead of myself too often, reading between lines or flipping ahead pages. She says she’s just giving God suggestions for the plot. Both make perfect sense to me.
The thing about storytelling is that it’s interactive in nature. It takes a lot reading and writing, listening and finessing, tweaking and editing. Adding suggestions. Squealing at plot twists. Both in reading and editing, it includes underlining patterns, and wondering which themes might appear later on.
“Where did they go next?”
“Why did the hero choose that outcome?”
“Can she be wearing a blue dress instead of a red one? I like blue here better.”
Stories are interactive. Where do we get our desire to cheer on superheroes at the movie theaters, or tweet our (very crucial) thoughts on the Bachelor in Paradise each week? Even the TikTok girlies know every “GRWM” is a miniature story, answering “Will this chick get out the door and catch a plane that leaves in 25 minutes all while wearing the perfect hair, outfit, and makeup?” We live for the thrill of a good story.
Not to go all youth pastor on you, but I think this really leans into the dance of fate and faith.
If God is calling us into relationship, I have to believe we’re not passive players in our own story lines.
Does he push us off his lap or slap us on the wrist when we try to interact with his story? Maybe he wants your edits. Maybe he’s asking for suggestions. We may not be the ultimate Author of our stories, but I have to believe our input in valued. He loves Creation, and he loves a good story. How can those two things go unconnected?
I mean, isn’t that the point of prayer?
Isn’t that the persona of God?
If that’s all true, then is it possible our futures are some mix of fate and formula?
I don’t know for sure, and I can’t say Taylor does either. But between invisible strings and mastering minds, I’ve found it comforting to know I’m not the only one asking these questions. Perhaps we can set up the dominos, even if we don’t choose where they fall. Perhaps we can weave webs and craft patterns, even if we don’t know which strings remain tied in the end. And perhaps are edits are cherished, not swatted away, even if we don’t get the final, ultimate say in our good and sacred storylines. (I’ve told God I want a boy who did band at some point in life. Is that too big an ask? Only time will tell.)
Perhaps it’s a mixture of the two. Fate and formula, with a little faith thrown in. That feels like holy ground to me.
Although I don’t have answers or endings, I’ll learn as I go. As long as Taylor keeps writing, I’ll keep reflecting. As long as I get a say in my story, I’ll keep adding input. And as much as I can let go of impatience, I’ll let the Storyteller tell his stories with trust and wonder.
As long as he’s okay with a few suggestions along the way.
