Let the day unfold! Let its gentle voice guide you toward unexpected surprises and open your heart to the lessons it holds.
One of the most powerful mantras I’ve come across on the trail is, “Let the day unfold.”
It’s a refreshing counterpoint to the classic carpe diem mindset. Rather than gripping the day tightly and trying to control every moment, this phrase invites us to ease our grip, to stay present, receptive, and ready for whatever detours might appear.
As someone with a Type A personality who lives by carefully crafted lists and meticulous preparation, this approach did not come naturally.
But I’ve learned it’s not about abandoning plans altogether. Instead, it’s a mindset that allows us to be more agile when plans shift, and to embrace the unexpected opportunities those shifts might bring.
My first real lesson in this came from a tiny, winged menace.
It was a warm, golden afternoon when I arrived at camp in the Richmond Range of New Zealand. The sun still high, I had plenty of time to slip into the Te Hoiere/Pelorus River for a swim. At this stage in its journey to the sea, the river is a serene chain of emerald pools, their color a result of “rock flour” sediment scattering light beneath the surface.
As I stepped out of my clothes and tested the chilly water with a tentative foot, I was immediately swarmed by a cloud of tiny insects. Normally, I ease into cold water, no splashing or jumping. But not this time. To escape their bite, I plunged straight in.
The insects were sandflies, called Te namu by the Māori, which translates to “little devil.” And they live up to the name. They bite fast and leave behind oozing, itchy welts that linger long after the encounter.
You won’t see the sandfly in New Zealand’s glossy tourism ads, but they’re deeply woven into the country’s ecosystem and its mythology. According to Māori legend, the goddess of the underworld created the sandfly with a purpose. She said,
It’s too beautiful here, people will want to stay forever. I will create the sandfly to remind them they are only passing through.
What a humbling reminder! The sandfly is a symbol of impermanence, of life’s fleeting beauty. Te namu reminds us that everything we love – every person, place, and moment – is temporary.
That day, I’d hiked hard to get to camp early. My plans were clear: a long swim, dinner by the shore, and a relaxing afternoon soaking in the bucolic stillness of this hidden paradise. But the sandflies had other ideas. I spent most of the afternoon bundled head to toe in protective clothing or zipped inside my tent.
Then I remembered something else about sandflies. Unlike mosquitoes, they don’t bite you while you’re moving. If you stay in motion, they leave you alone.
The Māori knew this too. They believed sandflies weren’t just a reminder that life is short, but also a call to keep moving forward, to stay active, engaged, and open to possibility.
So I packed up and climbed out of the river valley, heading into higher ground. The air was dry, the views expansive, and there wasn’t a single sandfly in sight.
Yes, make plans. Dream boldly. Chart your course. But don’t forget the wisdom of the sandfly. You’re only passing through, and sometimes the best way to honor the journey is to keep moving – and let the day unfold.
