by James Wallace Harris, Tuesday, June 23, 2020
“The future is everything I never imagined” is a saying I created for my personal philosophy long ago. That doesn’t stop me from trying to predict what will happen. For example, Friday I have to go to my urologist about my prostate. I keep imagining all kinds of scenarios. By Thursday night I’ll have imagined dozens. After I leave his office on Friday it will be obvious that every situation I fantasized beforehand was a waste of time.
Before I retired in 2013 I imagined all kinds of goals to accomplished with my free time. None of them have been achieved. I have pursued a lot of activities, but none that I imagined before retiring. Isn’t that weird?
Fantasizing about the future comes in two kinds. Daydreaming of things you want to happen, and nightmaring things that will. The Covid-19 pandemic is nothing I ever expected or imagined, and I’ve read dozens of books about plagues. But then why would anyone picture a pandemic where everyone has to stay inside, with millions losing their jobs, and the economy going into a tailspin? All those consequences are so obvious with hindsight.
I do have a microscopic ability to predict a tiny way into the future. Whenever I have to go anyplace new I look it up on Google Maps and plan my route. Sometimes I even use Streetview to see how things will look. This generally works out and I easily get to my destination. I like how I feel when my effort to plan a small event works. I’m also pretty good about imagining what I want to buy at the grocery store. I even picture contingencies where one store won’t have something and where to go next to find it. Like I said, my ability to predict or plan the future is teeny-weenie, but it does feel good. I can also imagine writing a blog and then writing it.
This implies the near future can be imagined to a limited degree. What’s really hard is expecting the unexpected — like Covid-19. But would we even want this power?
I’ve found it philosophically amusing that I didn’t expect all the psychological changes I’ve undergone since I retired. I assumed my non-working years would be rather static and stable. And yes, day-to-day life is rather routine with a great deal of sameness. I even delight in my rut and habits. But I have to laugh at myself for the mental changes I’ve undergone in the last seven years.
What was unexpected is how much I would change in how I felt about things. I figured after a lifetime of being me, that I’d continued being me with boring consistency. And for the most part that’s true. The unexpected changes have been subtle, and very hard to explain. But aren’t emotions and feelings always ineffable? Maybe one way to explain this is to say I thought I was an 8-color box of Crayolas, and then I discovered I really had 16-colors. I should expect the unexpected and wonder if I’ll eventually be 32-colors. But I just can’t imagine that.
It’s obvious now, that I wouldn’t do what I imagined doing seven years ago. That should have been expected, but it wasn’t. I should have expected the unexpected since that’s what experience has always taught me all along.
I have just over a year left in my sixties. I shouldn’t even try to imagine my seventies or eighties. Death is always unexpected, even though it’s certain. I’m always observing older folks trying to get hints about the future, but I realize now that I can’t extrapolate how they feel from how they look. Whatever being 75 or 85 feels like is nothing I can ever imagine. It will be as unexpected as Covid-19.