The advancement of artificial intelligence has shifted rapidly from abstract curiosity to an immediate personal threat for millions of workers. People aren’t just wondering if jobs will change—they’re asking whose jobs, how fast, and whether their own will be next. Making matters worse, several tech companies have already executed a staggering number of layoffs—almost always citing AI as the cause. On its own, this unpredictable unfolding of an entirely new and disruptive technology would be enough to unsettle us—yet we all know it’s just one of several forces compounding an already profound—and growing—sense of uncertainty in our lives. Add to this the volatile tensions between America and Iran which have driven up gasoline prices, strained household finances, and left many wondering how long it will last. Increasingly, what we wake up to each morning is a quiet but persistent question: how has the ground shifted overnight—economically, technologically, geopolitically, and even environmentally? If the weight of all this feels heavy—and you find yourself wondering how much more instability you can handle—you’re not alone. More and more people are quietly asking the same question: how do we navigate a future we can no longer reasonably predict? I recently read a piece in the Wall Street Journal in which the author Jonathan Gluck describes what it’s like to live with an incurable disease. Diagnosed in 2003 at age 38 with multiple myeloma—a rare blood cancer affecting plasma cells in the bone marrow—he has now survived more than 20 years, thanks to major medical advances. Yet he lives every day with chronic uncertainty, describing it as “emotionally brutal—often as challenging as the physical toll.” I happen to know Jon—he’s my editor at Fast Company . But, until I read his essay—and another piece in his own magazine —I had no idea he was living with this. His writing shifted my perspective and prompted deeper questions in me: How do people facing life-threatening or incurable conditions keep moving forward without being crushed by the weight of it? And what might the hard-earned strategies they develop—by confronting their mortality every single day—teach the rest of us about navigating a world that feels increasingly and profoundly unstable? Our Tendency Is To Seek Control The human default response to uncertainty is an intensified bid for control. We research obsessively, plan every contingency, double down on routines, and try to command outcomes with data and expertise. Psychologists call this the illusion of control—our natural tendency to overestimate how much influence we have over events. Magical thinking tells us that through effort, planning, research, or sheer will, we can steer major disruptions—like a health crisis or rapid technological change—when in reality so much of what happens lies outside our direct influence. In stable times, this instinct can, of course, push us forward. But in today’s relentless swirl of upheaval, the more we grasp for certainty, the more anxious and exhausted we become when the future simply refuses to comply. People who have lived for years with life-threatening or incurable conditions have learned a different way to maneuver. Research on coping with serious health challenges shows an almost spiritual approach emerges where people stop fighting the unknown and make room for it instead. They continue showing up for work, relationships, and daily life with a grounded form of acceptance and hope that helps them keep moving forward without feeling overwhelmed. Here are five practical lessons drawn from their experiences that can help you navigate today’s unpredictable world more steadily. Accept the uncertainty rather than fighting to eliminate it Many of us start by trying to wall off the hard reality or control every variable. Gluck initially compartmentalized his cancer, treating it like a separate track he could manage quietly through medical routines and willpower. Over two decades of remissions and relapses, he found that gently integrating the unknown into his life—acknowledging it without letting it dominate every thought—eased the emotional burden. In a recent New York Times interview, former U.S. Senator Ben Sasse—diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic cancer last December and initially given just months to live—spoke of gaining surprising clarity by facing the truth head-on rather than denying it. When we release the exhausting demand for guarantees that aren’t available, we free up energy for what we can actually shape. Keep showing up for work and daily routines When first diagnosed, Gluck was given roughly 18 months to live. Nevertheless, one of his early steps was to call his boss and commit to continuing his editing work. Ever since, he has sustained high-level roles through multiple treatments by treating consistent contribution as a steady anchor of normalcy and purpose. He has realized that an acknowledgment of our limited lifespans can actually sharpen commitment rather than cause withdrawal. In today’s AI-driven world where entire roles feel at risk, leaning into your responsibilities, building relevant skills, and maintaining productive routines provides stability and a sense of agency—even when the larger picture feels really shaky. Protect real connection with the people who matter most Uncertainty weighs heaviest when we face it alone. Gluck has maintained a regular poker game with friends as a source of joy and normalcy—and his closest relationships grew stronger as he shared his condition’s ups and downs. Sasse (who also remains hard-working) responded to his diagnosis by setting firm boundaries—no more than seven hotel nights per month and devices put away at dinner—to safeguard uninterrupted time with his wife and children. Time and again, people facing serious health challenges report that strong, supportive relationships buffer emotional strain far better than solitary planning or worry. As we learn from both Gluck and Sasse, being intentional about spending evenings and personal time with supportive family and friends is the best way to ensure it happens. Make time for activities that fully absorb you Endless fretting about the future only serves to drain us. Gluck found relief in a pre-illness passion, fly-fishing: a total immersion in casting, reading the water and being present in nature. Broader insights from those living with prolonged illness highlight how absorbing pursuits like this—exercise, creative projects and deep work—interrupt anxiety and restore a feeling of being grounded in the now. When headlines and job fears feel nonstop, retreating to these are a powerful way to reclaim the present moment. Focus your energy on what you can influence and practice realistic optimism Those living with long-term uncertainty learn quickly that pouring energy into fears around the next scan or doctor’s visit only depletes them. Instead, they channel effort into daily habits—and doing things they value—that take their minds away from anxious waiting moments. They accept the risks of their condition paired with a refusal to let those steal away their days. Accepting Things as They Are These lessons come from people who have confronted far more personal uncertainty than most of us will ever face. They remind us that we are more resilient and adaptable than we often believe. As there is no reason to believe our foreseeable future will be any less volatile and unpredictable, we’re reminded that our response to what comes next needn’t leave us reactive, exhausted, or paralyzed. In the end, navigating uncertainty isn’t about erasing life’s discomfort. It’s about accepting things as they are, not fighting against them. It’s about moving forward anyway and making the most fulfilling use of our precious time on earth. In his book, The Road Less Traveled , M. Scott Peck’s first sentence is “ Life is difficult.” When this truth fully seeps into our consciousness, we strip away the illusion that life is under our control, will always go our way—and that the universe must comply with our will. None of us is guaranteed a tomorrow—and that’s a freeing idea because it encourages us to savor our life experiences and find meaning and joy in them. This acceptance helps us become more deliberate about the life we’re actually living and more fluid with things beyond our direct influence.