Do you spend more time thinking about the future or the past? Why?
Do I spend more time thinking about the future or the past? Both, and almost never the bit in between. My brain is a time traveler with a serious case of jet lag. It commutes between “what if” and “what was” and rarely bothers to check in with “what is.” It is exhausting, frankly.
The past is the comfy old armchair I sink into with a cup of herbal tea (decaf after 4 PM, because sleep is not negotiable). It is familiar, cozy, and full of questionable decisions that seemed brilliant after a glass of wine or two. I revisit my cringe-worthy moments the way you watch a rom-com that is going wrong: with morbid fascination and no ability to look away. Did I really wear that on our first date? Was that text message a tad too enthusiastic? The answer is always yes, followed by a dramatic sigh and a fervent prayer that nobody ever unearths the old photos. Still, it all makes good material for girls’ night out, once I have edited out the truly mortifying bits.
The future, on the other hand, is an all-you-can-eat buffet of possibilities. I am a kid in a shoe store with unlimited credit, picturing myself conquering the world in killer heels and a power suit. I will be a bestselling author, a CEO, and a globetrotting philanthropist with a ridiculously cute rescue puppy. Reality will probably swap the designer wardrobe for yoga pants and a messy bun, but the buffet is free and I intend to go back for seconds.
Here is what I have learned from all this temporal tourism: the present is where the real magic happens. It is like the perfect shade of lipstick, the one that makes you feel like a million bucks. You can walk right past it if you are busy staring into the mirror of “what was” or at your vision board for “what if.”
For too long, I was so occupied with past fashion faux pas and future fabulousness that I forgot to savor the now. The taste of my morning latte. Sand between my toes. A heartfelt conversation with my best friends. These are the moments that matter, and not one of them takes place in the armchair or at the buffet.
So I am making a conscious effort to be more present. To actually listen when someone is speaking. To appreciate the beauty around me. To resist, where possible, the urge to analyze every text message as if it were a cryptic dispatch from the universe. It is a work in progress. Now, if you will excuse me, I am off to enjoy a mani-pedi without overthinking it. Maybe just a little.
