To me, the most tantalizing thing about the Future is that there’s no one, anywhere in the world, that knows what is going to happen.
As an almost-college graduate, the Future and I have a love-hate relationship. One of my French philosopher homeboys said “at each moment, I escape myself” (translation mine, of Montaigne), and, despite all my concentrated efforts to pin me down, the “myself” of the Future escapes me most frequently. I could choose to be anxious about this (I don’t know what will happen I don’t know what will happen I don’t know what will happen), or I could just be like, “well, I don’t know what will happen. Let’s find out.” In the words of Beyonce, I can do whatever I want.
Plans are reassuring. I like schedules. I like to prepare for what comes next. That lends itself very well to being a student and completing homework by the deadline. But as I stand on the whitewater-rapids edge of Graduation Falls, “what comes next” is a spray of foam at the bottom – and, hidden beneath it, life’s deep, swirling and murky waters and perhaps some unanticipated sharp rocks. Yikes.
But I’ve already climbed the cliff, and what I’ve learned through that journey is the only preparation I get.
From here on out, it’s time to live a little risky. The only way to find out what’s in the water is to jump in.