Future

The future doesn’t even exist, so how can it hurt me? Nevertheless, I regularly fear what tomorrow or the days after may bring.

It seems strange to be afraid of mere possibilities, but there you have it. What might or might not happen causes me far more concern than what did or didn’t.

Now, I realize that what I take to be the future is merely a collection of possibilities arranged by my mind; it says a lot more about my own subjective experience of the world than the world itself. Worrying about it then, is like worrying about whether the characters in a story that I’m making up are going to live happily ever after. Presumably, I can make it come out however I want, so what’s to fret about?

In spite of knowing this, however, I still find myself lying awake at night worrying about what may or may not come to pass, none of which may come to pass, anyhow.

I used to spend hours stressing about what I would do with my millions if I won the lottery. I could work myself up into a real lather over how I’d managed to squander it all on parties and vintage bicycles—and I hadn’t even won! As ridiculous as that seems, how is it really any different than getting all bent out of shape over what’s going to happen if I do or don’t do what I might or might not as a result of what could or couldn’t occur?

I’m not opposed to planning; it makes sense to consider options and have strategies for responding, but I should see these plans as so much fantasy, like imagining what I would do if I were king of the world. (First thing: ban those motorized scooters!)

For now, though, I’m going to try to live more in the present moment; and if I start to be concerned about the future, I’ll worry about that tomorrow.