Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Ten Years From Now

In a podcast with Tim Ferriss, Debbie Millman posed a method for directing self-progress structured as a writing exercise:
“It is Winter 2027. What does your life look like? What are you doing? Where are you living? Who are you living with? Do you have pets? What kind of house are you in? Is it an apartment are you in the city are you in the country? What does your furniture look like? What is your bed like? What are your sheets like? What kind of clothes do you wear? What kind of hair do you have? Tell me about your pets, tell me about your significant other, do you have children? do you have a car? Do you have a boat? Talk about your career? What do you want? What are you reading? What are you making? What excites you? What is your health like? Write this one day ten years from now. So one day in the winter of 2027, what does your whole day look like? Start from the minute you wake up, brush your teeth, have your coffee or tea, all the way through until minute you tuck yourself in at night. What is that day like for you? Dream big, dream without any fear. Write it all down. You don’t have to share it with anyone other than yourself. Put your whole heart into it. Write like there is no tomorrow; write like your life depends on it because it does. And then read it, once a year, and see what happens.”
This is an improvement over the typical "New Year's resolutions" in so many ways that I don't know where to start. Most importantly, she notes that there should be no holding back - the purpose of imagining an ideal future is to make sure we don't remain anchored to the present, and both this encouragement and the ten-year timeframe make it feel more possible to me, even now, before I have started writing.

To be the blue-sky optimist that assumes, all at once that this is basically a good idea, I immediately find myself considering how often I should read it, and how often I should revise it, but I guess those can be problems for later. For now, I'm simply going to attempt writing it.



In ten years, my enduring joys come from the people I love. Each day I try to elevate my own life as a means to elevate theirs. I am patient and kind because I have practiced being so, and because neither will ever cease to be important. Comfort and pleasure are lesser virtues, whose existence I only consider when I have first done what I can for my loved ones.

My thoughts are clear because I am healthy. I am healthy because I eat well and am physically active. I eat well because it tastes good, and because I listen to my body. I am physically active because I like to have fun, and because the world is worth exploring. Neither "diet" nor "exercise" are obligations I monitor or goals I set.

I work because it challenges me and I enjoy it. I am good at what I do - if for no other reason than that I could never enjoy doing something I was poor at - and my colleagues know that I can be trusted at my word, and trusted to excel at my duties. To be good at what I do is to better those around me. The amount of work I do is in natural balance with my life.

I am seldom in a hurry - I enjoy being in one place for long periods of time. I read to learn and I write to better know myself and the world. I travel, by myself and with my family, to see the world, to understand it better, and to have new experiences. People know they can trust me, ask me anything, confide in me. I enjoy routine but am never beholden to habit. I give my things away because there is almost nothing I want. I am prudent in the things I do - I avoid unnecessary risk - but I do not fear what the world may bring us.

Gratitude for what life has given me protects me from despair. My constant wish is for time - I will always want more time.

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