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Since becoming a die-hard fan of “Unwritten,” I have noticed the theme of the song in a variety of media. Recently, late night talk show host Stephen Colbert sat down with Steven Spielberg to discuss the director’s long and illustrious career. When Colbert asks what movie Spielberg has watched more than any other, he says Lawrence of Arabia. For readers unfamiliar with the legendary 1962 movie, Lawrence of Arabia tells the story of British Lieutenant T.E. Lawrence whose mission during World War I was to unite the British and Arab armies against the Turks. Lawrence defies orders and expectations in order to do the seemingly impossible. When he says that he will cross the Nefud Desert—a six-hundred mile journey without a natural water source along the way—his guide, Sherif Ali, objects, saying it cannot be done. Lawrence of course disagrees, and the army embarks on the journey despite Sherif’s objections. During the trek, Gasim, a member of the army, quietly falls from his camel due to exhaustion and becomes stranded. When Lawrence realizes this, he insists that they go back to rescue Gasim. Sherif again says it cannot be done. “Gasim will die,” Sherif says. “It is written!” he says. Lawrence goes anyway, and after much anticipation, he returns to the army camp triumphantly with a rescued Gasim. He says to Sherif in a weak, dehydrated voice “nothing is written.” Later that night, accepting that Lawrence is unlike most men, Sherif concedes “truly for some men, nothing is written unless they write it.” Lawrence is a hero only because he writes his own story. He is able to do the impossible because he is not constrained by what he believes to be written, nor is he constrained by what others believe to be written.
Colbert compares Lawrence’s impressive accomplishments with those of a film director—in this case, Spielberg’s— because creating a movie from scratch seems impossible. “On the blank page,” Colbert says, “there was nothing. But now there is this beautiful thing that affects people. That is both magical and an act of will.” Spielberg responds: “So is picking up a blank piece of paper and drawing a sketch. The act of creation, which all of us are capable of, is the most extraordinary thing that we as a species can possibly do.” I agree with Spielberg, and I would argue that anything remarkable done in human history was accomplished because someone concluded that the seemingly impossible was not written in stone.
In addition to the Colbert interview and Lawrence of Arabia, I have also noticed the theme of living an unwritten life while reading Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations this semester. It seems that struggling to accept the unknown is innately human. Aurelius writes “a man cannot lose either the past or the future: for what a man has not, how can anyone take this from him?” We all regret the past and fret about the future. The only remedy for this anxiety is to remember that our lives are not written. Religious beliefs might tell us that we have a destiny, but despite our best predictions and worst fears, we will never be able to see the future. The lesson here is that not knowing what will happen is a blessing. The rest of your days are unwritten as far as you know; therefore, write what you would like to happen. Try your best, within your circumstances, to create the life you want to live. The more you view your unknown future as a blessing, the closer you are to becoming a legend like Lawerence or Spielberg. Take a risk to create something great, and ignore what you might presume to be written in stone.
Piper Coleman is a McConnell Scholar in the class of 2025. She is studying geography, political science, and philosophy.