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Futures Thinking and the Urgent Optimism of Midlife
Forget the plans and focus on your preferences
Being called an opportunist is hard to mistake for a compliment, but maybe it’s just gotten an unfair rap. It’s really a matter of principle. Pursuing opportunities at all costs has never been a good look, but assuming one’s intentions are ethically sound, approaching whatever possibilities the universe might present with openness and equanimity seems like a pretty solid modus operandi. At least this is what I’ve been telling myself all these years. Like the main character in Memento, but if he were influenced by eastern religions and moral philosophy, I’ve tattooed various notes to self on my body to affirm my commitment to my lack of commitment.
Serendipity is scripted on my inner left wrist, its curliqued terminals held aloft by two skywriting doves. On my right shoulder, the spinning commas of a samurai tomoe: I change or transform my life. On my back, nunc stans, the eternal now, the timeless present. I’m not sure what the half sleeve of fruits and vegetables on my left arm is saying exactly, but it certainly does make a statement.
Understandably, I’ve grappled some with this way of navigating life. It’s true that my brand of opportunism has served me well, leading me down roads that might have remained far less or possibly untraveled were I to have been more steadfast in my orientation to some north star goal. However, now that I’m roughly midway through this journey, I’m starting to feel like I should probably have at least some sense of direction as I pitch my way ever-forward towards a distant yet increasingly perceptible horizon.
If the future is now, then it’s never too late to start thinking about it, right? Right. Except that first I’ve had to come to grips with my constitutional rejection of plans. That’s not to say that I exist wholly in chaos mode. Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling. Planning works for me on a micro level; I am very good at throwing dinner parties for example, and am a certified slayer of mise en place in any kitchen. I thrive in a six-week project sprint. Just don’t ask me what I’m doing after that. Beyond the basic adult responsibility of chucking money into an interest-bearing account whenever possible, thinking in long-term timeframes…
