MINDSET

Live Your Best Life Now, Because the Future Doesn’t Look So Great

How a friend’s predictions of the future changed my mind about getting older

The last few birthdays have left me overwhelmed with frustration.

Because no matter how times I told myself that “age is just a number,” I couldn’t dispel the harbinger of death constantly reminding me I’m running out of time.

The fact that my personal life clock continued to tick off the remaining days, hours, and minutes diminished the brightness of every sunrise, and dampened the color of every sunset.

Yes, the future that remains — for me — is limited and finite.

That’s true for everyone. But it was only after I realized the level of sand in the top of the hourglass was only a tiny fraction of what resides in the bottom did that blasted life-clock begin nagging at me with relentless persistence.

I fought back by focusing on being obsessively productive. Determined to derive the most from each remaining day, I began asking myself, “How should I spend the next hour? I must choose wisely, because I don’t have a single second to waste.”

Adding to my unhappiness was the fact that my personal experience of senior-life was completely contrary to what I’d imagined this last twenty percent of life would be like. In my forties, I’d expected these later years to be a time of contented reflection, when I would experience the peace and satisfaction of a life well-lived.

But now that I’m here, why would I hold a party when I’m the only guest?

It took a lot of self-analysis to discover the real source of my frustration.

But I finally realized the truth . . .

In the end, the world will continue on without me.

After I’m laid to rest — after the last grieving guest has left the house and the cards of sympathy and condolence have been stuffed into a manila envelope and resigned to the bottom drawer of a storage cabinet — life for the rest of the planet will go on. People will wake up in the morning, go to their jobs, come home to families that wait for them, and participate in the struggle, joy, and celebration that is life on planet earth.

And I’m going to miss it.

Admittedly, my assumptions are based on the continuance of the world I know. The one in which I feel safe in my home. The one that assures me that electricity will continue to flow on the grid, and my local grocery store will continue to carry my favorite brand of corn chips and the cheap bottle of Riesling I enjoy on the weekends.

Oh sure, the occasional shortage of toilet paper might raise my anxiety level. But I confidently assume the supply chain will be back to normal in a few weeks, and the shelves will overflow with new inventory.

It’s a world full of convenience and comfort, and I’ve come to count on it.

Yes, I also experience the occasional aggravation and disappointment. But for the most part, my life is securely centered in a place where I can walk the streets in relative safety, a place where I can wake up in the morning and think about being productive, or the phone call I’m going to make to my sister, or about the upcoming cruise my wife and I are planning to take.

But what if it turns out that the life I currently enjoy — the one I admittedly take for granted — is precariously balanced on a razor’s edge? What if the circumstances that have kept it relatively stable is about to change — for the worse?

In other words, what if the life that follows my demise isn’t going to be the life I’m used to?

That’s the opinion of a friend of mine, and he has all sorts of stats and research to back it up. He’s convinced the direction of our society doesn’t bode well for a safe, organized, and productive future.

I’m not a doom-and-gloom prepper, and frankly, I’ve never understood the mindset of those who obsess over surviving in an apocalyptic future. I mean, at some point, even the most ardent survivalist will have to ask himself if he really wants to live in a world that is hell-bent on eliminating the surplus population.

But setting my own feelings aside, I’ve thought long and hard about my friend’s predictions.

What if we really are living in the last of days?

What if we’re experiencing life in its final phase, enjoying the very best of what this world has to offer — before some deranged militant crackpot gets his hands on the launch codes? Or some cataclysmic cosmic event changes a critical factor in the planet’s eco system and our food supply disappears in a couple of years?

The possibility certainly dwarfs my own whiney-ass complaints of leaving this world in relative obscurity.

That’s not to say I’m accepting my friend’s predictions without a healthy dose of skepticism. But if I give his global disaster scenario even a whisper of credibility, it makes the here-and-now seem like a magical moment in our timeline — a period of human existence which some alien historian will recognize as a precursor to humanity’s irreversible plunge into extinction.

You might think that forcing myself to consider the prospect of a catastrophic future would push my already disheartened spirit into a deeper state of depression.

But it didn’t.

In fact, it’s had a profoundly positive influence on my perspective, and specifically, how I view my life in this final phase of my time here. The most sweeping change has been the immediate reframing of my despondency over a life-clock that continues to tick toward midnight.

Most of all, I’ve realized a new sense of appreciation — and acceptance — of my place in the here-and-now.

I may never have to worry about finding enough food to get through another day, or be forced to defend myself against those who walk the street with weapons, ready to take that food away. But the possibility that it might happen — no matter how obscure and improbable — has brought a new sense of gratitude for the life I currently live.

Yes, it’s a simple life. But it’s one that includes freedom, security, and comfort. I have eggs and bacon in the refrigerator. If I need to warm the house, I turn up the thermostat. And when I want a change in scenery, I go for a walk, knowing I have a very low chance of being attacked.

It’s tangible evidence that my life should be appreciated before prematurely mourning its brevity.

I’m sure there are others also lamenting the passing years, regretting a misguided past, or wishing they could magically extend the relatively few years that remain.

My advice?

The next time you drive to the store, or take a walk down a idyllic country lane, imagine how it would look after being swept by a radioactive firestorm — a blackened landscape concealing only poachers and modern day carpet baggers, desperate to feed themselves and their families.

No matter how you look at it — logically, analytically, rationally — it’s easy to come to a single overwhelming conclusion . . .

Now is definitely preferable to the future.

To think otherwise is to carry your dreams, hopes, and aspirations in a basket made of conjecture. Our natural assumption that the coming years will continue to offer a stable and safe environment is certainly preferable to the alternative. But that shouldn’t compel us to sacrifice the opportunity of living in the present for the promise of some elusive and grandiose future — if we only had the time.

Instead of being depressed over watching my life-clock count down the final phase of my life, I’m now focused on consciously appreciating my circumstances — reminding myself that change is constant, and none of us know how much longer we’ll enjoy our current state of relative safety and comfort.

Living our lives in this time — this moment — is an incredible gift.

Regardless of how future historians describe this period of human existence — the last glory days of earth or a prelude to unprecedented prosperity — the fact that I can still fully participate is an invitation to create a meaningful legacy.

I may not have been able to choose the time of my birth and the period in which I live, but I can certainly decide how I choose to experience it.

© 2021 Roger Reid. All Rights Reserved.

Roger A. Reid is the author of Better Mondays and Speak Up.

Roger A. Reid, Ph.D. is the host of Success Point 360 Podcast and author of Better Mondays and Speak Up. A certified NLP trainer with degrees in engineering and business, Roger offers tips and strategies for achieving higher levels of career success and personal fulfillment in the real world.