The word reckless shares its root with reckoning and reckful, but its meaning has drifted in a different direction.
Reckless comes from the old verb reck: to care, to heed. To be reckless originally meant not governed by calculation, not constrained by careful accounting. It did not mean stupid. It did not mean destructive. It meant uncontained by caution.
Over time, recklessness became a moral failure, synonymous with irresponsibility, danger, or lack of control. But that definition serves systems that value predictability over aliveness.
As I’m using the word, recklessness is the refusal to let calculation be the only—or even the primary—form of wisdom. It is the willingness to move without guarantees, to act without full information, to choose desire, curiosity, or becoming over safety and approval.
Recklessness is the choice to move without guarantees when careful calculation has brought stagnation rather than joyful vitality.
Recklessness draws sweeping and curving lines. It allows for surprise. It accepts the possibility of regret without letting regret run the show.
Recklessness is not for every moment or every situation. But when you are trying to change your life—when the straight lines have led you somewhere you don’t want to be anymore—recklessness is a door that you might be ready to walk through.
Today, I’m noticing how often I expect outcomes to be guaranteed, if only I’m careful and cautious enough. I wonder how I might practice recklessness in small ways, to see what unfolds, and who I become.