It’s impossible to know what a future version of ourselves will want, need, and prioritize. But we make assumptions about our future selves (and the world they occupy) all the time.
Unfortunately, many of these assumptions are knee-jerk and superficial, predicated on our sense of things, today, or based on an illusory, optimistic, not terribly realistic version of who we kinda’, sorta’ believe we could be at some point.
(There’s an underlying presumption baked into a lot of these predictions that maybe if we buy this widget / take this trip / invest in these shoes, that will help make us that person, though that’s seldom actually the case.)
Projecting forward in time like this can be helpful, despite our frequent, supposition-laden mis-predictions, though, especially if we use these imaginings to re-map our sense of what’s possible.
Considering what life would be like if I quit my job or learned to swing dance, for instance, may open my mind to all sorts of possibilities, widening my gaze and empowering (and maybe even encouraging) me to contemplate a broader range of life paths.
This isn’t a “Man, it would be nice not to have to go to work today,” or a “those swing-dancing people look so cool! I wish I could do that,” sort of visualization, though.
This involves forecasting what our day, week, month, and year would actually look like, at it’s most nitty-gritty and bare-bones, if fundamental components of it were removed (all that time and energy freed up, and that paycheck disappearing, too), or if some new element were added (how might I utilize and practice this new skill, what would it cost me, and how might I benefit beyond feeling cool because I can dance?).
At the most basic level, I find this flavor of foretelling helps me avoid buying things I don’t need, as I’ve made a habit of picturing how I would use whatever it is I’m thinking about purchasing, even to the point of determining where it would live in my home.
This specificity often helps me temper my initial surge of enthusiasm and desire for said would-be acquisition, as it gives me a preview of the dissatisfaction I may experience, later, when I realize it didn’t do for me what I’d hoped it would do, and instead just sat on a shelf (or in a closet, garage, or storage facility), gathering dust.
This approach to exploring possible futures also helps me determine what, if anything, I may want to extract from my life, though: not because the extracted elements are bad, but because in doing so I would liberate some volume of time, energy, and/or resources for other ambitions.
And as I mentioned, it also makes it easier to compute the potential benefits of investing myself in a fresh undertaking, helping me categorize such efforts as money-earning, mind-expanding, or just fun; all of which are potentially positive outcomes, and are more likely to be incorporated into my life in a positive way if I approach them for what they are, rather than what I might initially (and incorrectly) imagine (or want) them to be.
Our expectations and assumptions about our futures are often distorted by hopes and biases and bad data (related to the world, other people, and ourselves).
Making an effort to chart these possibilities, though, with as much specificity and neutral realism as possible, can help us make better decisions, today, while also providing us with more, more varied, and more thoughtfully conceived paths to walk, moving forward.
If you found value in this essay, consider buying me a coffee.