When I was young one of my professors stated that I was the most completely existential person he had ever met. Although I had no idea what that meant and didn't bother to look it up, I do remember being so flattered that I worked harder at everything just to be sure I also improved at whatever he was talking about. It was years later that I learned the meaning of the word and started seeing in myself what he felt related to the idea, and in many ways have always felt that he was more correct than not. Maybe not so much now, or maybe none of it is very important anymore even though it is still true that every day of my life is more different from the day before than similar to it. In fact, every second of my life is that and my primary sense of existence is still that we are briefly tangible aspects of a dynamic molecular continuum, within which nothing is ever exactly repeated or stays familiar for long.
The reason for the above is that it surfaced as I was just thinking about my response to sudden changes in the pond (this is very different, is it bad?), and realized that I was probably also the least existential person he had ever met. I do expect nothing, ever, yet am almost complacent with expectations in that I approach everything by first locating the familiar. I approached this Fall by getting ready to drift through the usual weather and pond responses until next Spring, but have been startled once again by the unfolding universe. The usual weather hasn't appeared. The season is a mesmerizing flow of unfamiliar perfection - colors, light and changes in light, the energetic exhibitions of plants and animals - and the water is clear.