It’s a crisp, overcast morning in early Autumn. The leaves on the cherry tree outside the living room window are green, but blended with various shades of golden orange. In the absence of even the slightest breeze, they hang perfectly still. It’s like they wish to be fully present for the moment they begin their graceful descent towards the earth. Once there, they’ll begin to enrich the soil and nourish the tree to which they used to belong. One day, they will become leaves again.
Mirroring the stillness of the leaves, is my cat. He’s sat at the window, watching each leaf as it lets go of its summer home and tumbles towards the realm of winter. It’s no secret to a cat that the most beautiful things in the world are born of silent observation. A warm seat at a window could serve up a lifetime of the deepest contentment without ever having to question what it all means.
Yet in this state of bliss, something lurks around the corner. Two hours from now, we’ll be at the vets, having traversed the perilous walk through the dog park in the cold autumn air. In spite of this, he sits in this moment, perfectly at ease, untouched by the idea of what’s to come. He, of course, has no idea of the appointment we booked yesterday evening or the upheaval it entails, and so he goes about his day as if the future doesn’t exist.
The Future Will Come as the Present
Most humans don’t operate in this way. To us, the future can feel inescapable. For a start, I had to book the vets appointment for a date and time that has yet to pass. Then I had to make arrangements and plan for the visit. And now I need to keep an eye on the clock to make sure we leave home with enough time to get there.
All this is “future”, and it seems human endeavour would cease to function without it. From train timetables and wedding invitations to work schedules and retirement planning, our minds are so often cast into the future.
But it’s not just neutral events that live in the future. It’s fear and anxiety, too. The fear of things not going to plan. The fear of rejection. The fear of dangerous circumstances cropping up. The fear of being afraid!
Indeed fear can only ever relate to the future. You can’t be afraid of something that’s already happened. So without future, all this anxiety dissolves. And that’s the reason my cat isn’t scared of going to the vet. He’s perfectly at peace because he doesn’t concern himself with the future. He’s just sat, watching the world unfold.
But how could we possibly sit at the window watching autumn leaves falling when responsibilities are always waiting just around the corner? How can we live in the moment when we need to take care of future events?
Hidden in plain sight is a truth that seems almost paradoxical. Right now, I’m at home. I’m not at the vets. When I arrive there – which is currently a future event – it won’t be the future any more. It’ll be the present. The exact same present that I’m in at this very moment. I’ll coax the cat into his carrier in the present moment. I’ll tie my bootlaces up in the present moment. I’ll lock the door begin my journey in the present moment. Each step I take through the park will be in the present moment. You get the picture – at no point in the process – at no point in our entire lives – have we done anything in the future.
Suddenly, the future doesn’t seem so easy to define, so what is it exactly?
A Figment of our Imagination
So while it’s true that I’ll probably be at the vets shortly, it’s not certain. Any number of things might happen to prevent it. They might call and postpone the appointment. There might be a storm and flash flooding that blocks the way. I might not even remain in good health long enough to get there. Who’s to say? So while the future feels “real”, it doesn’t take much probing to realise it’s nothing more than a projection of our minds – a figment of our imagination. We invent a likely future to help us prepare, and sometimes that’s useful, but it’s not the “future” that will actually come to pass.
So in a very real sense, when we think we’re getting ready for the future by ruminating on it, all we’re really doing is day dreaming. We might think we’re being productive, but most of the time, sitting at the window watching the world go by would be no less productive. In fact, it would be far more beneficial, because we’d actually be dwelling in reality and observing what’s actually there. Remember, any of the various events that might change your plans for the future themselves will happen in the present, so why would you need to be anywhere else?
Living like a cat
Nevertheless, as humans, integrated with the rest of society, we need a concept of the future. In practical matters, it’s indispensable. But here’s the thing: so often, we’re tricked into living through the lens of the future – and while it may be a useful concept, it’s not where life is. The only place we find reality is right here, right now. Anything that takes us away from this moment is a tool we can use, but notice how when you’re using it, a kind of veil comes down and clouds, or even obscures your experience of the present. If we get carried away in the future, we lose sight of our lives.
So treat it like the tool it is. Once you’re done with a tool, you put it down and using concepts of future should be no different. What do we do the rest of the time?
We dwell in reality. We sit at the window and watch the autumn leaves and when the future becomes present, we embrace whatever comes our way in the moment.