why recurring decisions could shape who you really are

So the thing about Nietzsche's eternal recurrence is that it kind of sneaks up on you. I mean, at first glance, it seems like just another thought experiment, right? But when you actually sit with it, maybe over a cold coffee on a Tuesday morning, it starts to reshape how you see those little choices, the same ones you might consider mundane. It's almost like a test: would you want to relive this exact moment, infinite times?

And here's where it hit me; it’s a perfect tool for this ongoing thing I’ve been calling reality design.

Every decision you make is like a brick. Imagine you're an architect building a cathedral out of your life. Each day, each choice, every recurring thought or habit, you lay down another brick. Now, are you crafting a sanctuary or a prison?

That's the real question. I remember years ago when I was bouncing between business ideas and, honestly, just trying to keep a roof over my head. The choices I made back then, sometimes out of desperation, felt like they’d haunt me forever. I think Nietzsche might have had a point.

What if every choice you make is one you'd be happy repeating eternally?

I used to be a mess about my decisions, always feeling like I was playing whack-a-mole with my life. I'd go from the grind of a startup to just aimlessly wandering around, oddly at peace as a homeless wanderer with nothing but a backpack and some tech gear. Those were the moments that taught me more about making choices than any job ever could. Funny, isn't it?

It’s not the board meetings that guide your path, but those gritty, real moments when you ask yourself if you can do this forever. And it’s not about the dramatic life-altering decisions. It’s like, can you love the process, or tolerate it at least enough to live it over and over again?

But what if you don’t even know what you want? Most of us don’t. We kind of fumble our way through, designing bits and pieces of life like a patchwork quilt without ever stepping back to see the entire picture. What I've realized, and I'm still figuring this out, honestly, is that maybe you need to be conscious about what you're designing.

Not perfect, just aware. Your little actions, like the rituals you engage in without thinking, they’re the actual tools. It’s like, let’s frame reality as a workshop. What are the tools you're picking up?

What are the blueprints you’re following?

So, I've found it helpful to ask myself, "If I had to live this day over eternally, what should remain, and what should go?" It's an approach that forces a kind of brutal honesty. Like those mornings where you're grumpy, running late, clutching onto your fourth coffee, would you want that to be your loop? There's an odd satisfaction in aligning each day so that if eternity called you into a replay, it wouldn't be a horror show.

And I’ve seen this in others too, a buddy of mine, Zach. Guy's a bit chaotic, but he's a genius at taking a step back and asking the eternal recurrence question. Every new gig, every weird art project or tech venture, he evaluates it like a loop. " If the answer is no, it's a no even for today.

That’s bold, but maybe it's what gives him that joyfully scattered energy. It's a technique, almost like personal vetting for eternity.

Here's a practical technique you can use. Start with small decisions. Next time you find yourself about to do something, like making a mundane purchase or even just choosing what series to binge next, pause. Ask yourself if you'd want thousands of days just like this.

It sounds trivial, right? But the more you do it, the more you realize how these micro-decisions create a macro effect. You're literally designing the feel and fabric of your existence, a kind of real-time audit.

In this, there’s something about attention. We’ve all seen how what you choose to focus on expands, how it creates the weather system of your days. It’s real, like a filter on a photo that changes everything. Maybe instead of chasing novelty for its own sake, because endless streams of “new” can dilute meaning, we focus on configuring our patterns with an artist’s hand.

”

Attention is the chisel, really. What you focus on holds the power to carve out the future, dragging it into existence bit by bit. And it’s weirdly empowering, you know? To think that your life could be a gallery or a garden, depending on the small, deliberate cuts you make every day.

And then there's the bigger picture. But that's where things tend to spiral, right? Because once you see your life as a landscape of potential, where each action today compounds into the sculpture of tomorrow, you start considering the quality of these daily bricks. Look at the grooves you’re carving into each day because that’s what sticks.

I mean, the idea here isn’t to obsess but to gently steer with intention. Crafting, not defaulting.

When you put your energy into decisions that echo with who you really are (or who you hope to be), something miraculous happens. Each decision begets another, not by chaotic default, but through intentional choice. It’s like not following a script you didn’t write but genuinely participating in shaping the damn thing.

Now that said, there’s an interesting thing about the fear of sameness. We’re terrified of monotony, aren’t we? But when you can ask yourself if you’d repeat today over and over and smile at the thought, that’s simple freedom. I mean, who knew Nietzsche tossed a lifeline to those of us trying not just to survive, but to live well in the in-between moments?

The thing with recurring decisions helping design reality is that they kind of snap you into being here, now. Like, am I seriously gonna argue with the notion of optimizing time better when you can enjoy more of what you've got?

I’m reminded of how each element on this 'design' show of our lives is interactive. You change one piece, and everything else shifts around it. Check it out: a recurring daily walk changes your mindset, affects your health, and maybe even shifts how you view the neighborhood around you. Simple, but it all piles up like dominoes.

Start anywhere, but start.

And oh, the energy of all this. It's absurdly liberating. Knowing each decision isn’t trapped in this 'once and done' purgatory, but instead, they’re these little rivets in the great tapestry. Scratch that, in the great workshop of life.

Every tool, every adjustment, and each choice is yours to wield.

So, today, ask yourself: if I had to repeat this, would I? That's where it all begins.

And I'm just scratching the surface here. There's this whole other thought path about whether each of us is even ready for such deliberate design or if we prefer to go on autopilot. Like, what's really driving the choices? Is it us, our fears, or some subconscious rhythm we're not tuned into yet?

Something that needs unpacking, definitely another day.