True talk #8: What the future brings

On facing an unknowable future and ceding control

“What next?” — A piece I drew this weekend for this post.

We are always existing in a state of uncertainty about what comes next; how life will reveal itself. In some moments, this feeling, this inability to know, is cloaked in the neatness of our plans, in the seeming stability of our relationships; but sometimes, our utter ignorance is exposed, and we have to face this aspect of what it means to be very, terribly human.

I’ve always had a problem ceding control. When I was younger, growing up with many brothers and fewer TV screens, I found it hard to accept that I might not be able to watch all my favourite shows; that I might not know for sure what channel the cable would be on at those times; so much so that I wrote up a contract. I drew a table with all the shows I love and the times they come on weekly, and I tried to force my brothers to sign; to agree that no matter what happened, or no matter what else was on, they would let me watch them. Obviously, they didn’t sign! But that did not stop me from trying to outplan things. My friends make fun of me because I keep a note on my phone which I update several times a day — it tells me what fun and not so fun things I need to do each day. I even plan my holidays quite carefully, trying to visualise every detail. About two years ago, I was going solo to Vienna and I sent my parents a detailed itinerary, down to where I would be eating and when. My dad called me and asked me, “Ehae, where is the room for spontaneity?” I suppose my fear on those trips is that I won’t see everything; that I won’t have the full experience; and so, I plan.

I think that might be my ultimate fear: Letting life roll on, and not being able to account for what I did, or how I used my time. My fear is not spending enough time on impactful things; on becoming who I am meant to be; on doing the things I love; on being with the people I love. I don’t trust myself to arrive at the perfect balance without intention (because even with intention, I struggle). And so, I try to control the situation.

It’s like the words I used in a poem I wrote for the former iteration of my Inktippeddreams:

It’s a strange balance —
To recognise that you are powerless
And yet, to try to mould how things will go. 

I always have to come to a point where I accept that I can’t influence everything, and this is the hardest. It can be as simple as working towards a specific outcome in my writing or work, which ultimately is out of my hands. It can be as hard as losing a loved one, like when my dearest aunt passed away. The future in those instances feels like a dark, unknowable thing. It feels unpredictable and plagued with questions. And there is great humility in submitting to that. There are many other things outside of my circle and personal existence that I worry about; situations taking place on a global scale; wars, politics, human development, even AI!

When I get to the point of knowing that I am not in control of a situation, I have limited options of how I interact with it. One of the main ways I deal with this is by distracting myself. I focus on the things I can do, and I do them with much effort. Last year, I was on a flight back to Paris from a solo trip I had taken to Prague, and suddenly, the worst turbulence I had ever experienced started up. The plane was shaking like one of those virtual reality rides; as though I had paid for an adventure at Universal Studios, except with the very real knowledge that I was not on solid ground. In the midst of this, as the plane reminded me how weightless the body can be, I was struck by a man sitting adjacent from me who was listening to music, who with his eyes closed, channelled his whole body into responding to the sound. He mouthed the lyrics and punched with his hands, more focussed the worse the turbulence got, and I couldn’t help but laugh. While others clutched tight to their armrests and faced forward, I laughed and I laughed till there were tears in my eyes. I watched this guy till we landed; till he opened his eyes, exhaled, and stopped rapping. And I marvelled at myself — that I was the kind of person who could focus on observation and laughter, even in the midst of individual and collective chaos.

I’m also the kind of person that prays. As a Christian and a control freak, I soothe myself with sayings such as “I may not know the future, but I know who holds it”, or something along those lines. But the one that brings me the most comfort is this Bible verse: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” I repeat that to myself sometimes, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying, and I feel badly about that.

In a piece about my relationship with prayer linked here, I wrote these words:

“When I think about the future, there is fear, 
Fear for what I will become, for what legacy I will leave, 
For what form love will take in my life, 
For my family, for my purpose, for my home,  
And in those moments, I need to trust that all will be well.”

That’s essentially what it comes down to — trust. And trying.

Sometimes, like when reading a book that takes me through an unpredictable plot, I want to skip to the end to be sure that all will be well, and then come back and live it.

But I can’t. And even if I could, what would be the fun in that?

So, I wait.

Prompt:

What do you think of when you think of the future? Write about it and share it with me (by sending it on instagram, or replying by email if you’re a subscriber). I would love to discuss it with you! I would also post it on the Instagram page if you’d like me to.