The only reason tomorrow is worth reaching is that you don't know what it contains. Certainty is a kind of death — imagine waking to a day fully scripted: every exchange predetermined, every outcome filed. You would not be living it; you would be attending it. The tension between the known and the unknown is not a bug in the design of existence. It is the design.
This doesn't license chaos. There is a meaningful difference between a man who repeats himself because he is building something and a man who repeats himself because he has stopped thinking. Repetition in service of a long goal is compounding. Repetition as default is sedation.
Investment makes the same argument in the language of capital. What serious investors rarely admit publicly — because it sounds insufficiently mercenary — is that the money is not the point. The process is: converting ambiguity into structured probability, one decision at a time. That conversion is the craft. Strip it out, hand someone the returns without the reasoning, and you have given them a fish they cannot taste. The meaninglessness that follows great wealth, when it follows, is almost always the meaninglessness of a skipped process — of an answer received without the work of the question.
Uncertainty, properly understood, is not the enemy of a good life. It is the condition that makes a good life possible. You are not trying to eliminate it. You are trying to navigate it well enough that the navigation itself becomes who you are.