Your Future Self Will Thank You For This

Start today. Write your tomorrow.

Feb 09, 2019

“If I were to realize that door A, B, or C all lead to a lot of heartache and pain, but you know, A was what I really want, well, why not just choose A?” –Mike Herrera, founder of MxPx (via Ryan Holiday)

Last summer I wrapped up another intake of the Career Change Accelerator I teach in London. I rewarded myself the next morning in the simple way I do: walk to a local cafe with a notebook and a book, and order a huge omelette with a cup of coffee.

I sipped the coffee. Tore open the thank you note from the 30 Londoners from the course. Paged through the notebook they gifted me. My eyes welled up. I let the tears happen. They reflected how wildly my life changed over the last 7 years.

If you’d told me 7 years ago I’d be making a living doing work that’s both purposeful and enjoyable; working with interesting people I both like and respect; paid well while living the life of flexibility and adventure I desired; that I’d see firsthand how my work is impacting people through their tears and laughter, through mindset shifts and bold new career pivots — I’d have smacked you silly.

Yet that’s exactly what I hoped for myself 7 years ago.

But if I’m honest, I didn’t really know the details of what I wanted for my life 7 years ago. I had no clue it would involve facilitating, teaching, writing, speaking, presenting, acting, building education programs, and most of all, helping people get unstuck, pivoting their careers, and pursuing more meaningful work.

I was an engineer-educated, IT consultant. I was 27. I had no idea who I was.

I had this sense that much of myself was still undiscovered. I wasn’t terribly unhappy, but I also wasn’t pulsing with life. Something in me wanted change.

The problem: I had no clue where to start figuring out the details of what I wanted.

So I began the only way I knew how, using one of the most basic and human tools I had access to: my imagination. I put my imagination to work with one exercise in particular, which kickstarted my whole trajectory.

Writing, freehand, with pen and paper, my “Ideal Day.”

What Does Your “Ideal Day” Look Like?

I asked myself:

From the moment I wake up until the moment I go to sleep, what does my ideal day in the future look like?

I took a blank page from my work notebook and started writing. I didn’t know the details, so I just made something up, based on what sounded exciting or meaningful:

“I wake up feeling well rested and invigorated. I make a strong cup of coffee and walk outside to stand in the sun and admire the natural world outside my window and porch. I’m in a foreign, beautiful place. The temperature is perfect. The sun warms my face. I page through a global newspaper like Wall Street Journal and a local newspaper in a local language to get a feel for the headlines and news of the day. Then I cook myself a hearty, healthy and colorful breakfast, consisting of eggs…”

My tendency is to sit and think of the best answers first before writing. But as I discovered with my Morning Pages journaling and writing in general — it’s a trap. Instead, treat your mind like a blocked gutter. Writing — not thinking — gets the gunk out. My truest answers flow and deepest thoughts become known only after I begin writing them.

When it came time to write about my work day and career…I drew a blank. So instead of details, I wrote the flavors — the types of activities, the kind of places and people I’d like to be around, the feelings behind it all.

“I have a full day of exciting projects lined up, and I’m eager to get started. I’m working beside kind, smart people I both admire and respect, doing work that has deep personal meaning to me and has a positive impact on the people it touches.”

Was it perfect? No. Super vague? For sure. It was my shitty first draft.

But it began to paint a picture in my head. I saw the types of people. I felt the energy of my day. It gave me direction. I continued to revise this Ideal Day over the next several months and years. I even recorded one version audibly on my phone. I’d listen back while making breakfast or taking a walk. It was myself from the future talking to myself in the present. A little strange. But powerful.

7 years ago me. Reykjavik, Iceland.

7 Years Later

7 years later, much of what I wrote has come true. Not all of it. And much of my life looks wildly different than I could have imagined. Of course, I still have tons of room to grow. But I’m especially reflective right now as some exciting opportunities are coalescing. I’m now doubling down on what I’ve discovered about myself and my work.

A couple reflections:

Reflection #1: 7 years!

Do you know how long 7 years is?! Part of me is embarrassed it’s taken me so long. But also — this is how long shit takes. Always longer than you want it to.

Reflection #2: Every year felt like the best year

It hasn’t been all doom and gloom between years 0–7. In fact, every year felt like the best year of my life. Even when I wasn’t quite where I wanted to be, even when I was downtrodden. I had begun to craft a life deliberately vs. drifting regretfully. I was on a damn adventure! I WAS ALIVE! Which included highs as well as lows. That was rewarding enough.

The trick, I think, was embracing my ambitions whilst not hanging my future happiness on the success of those ambitions. Like the wisdom in Zorba The Greek:

“This is true happiness: to have no ambition and to work like a horse as if you had every ambition. To live far from men, not to need them and yet to love them. To have the stars above, the land to your left and the sea to your right and to realize of a sudden that in your heart, life has accomplished its final miracle: it has become a fairy tale.”

Your Turn.

If you’re not happy in your work or life, if you feel you have more to give to the world and discover about yourself, if something needs to change — you can change. And you can begin it simply: start today and write your tomorrow.

Write your future story. Write the wildest and most remarkable life you can imagine. Write something your future self will thank you for. It might feel trivial. It might take 7 years. But if you put it out there and begin it, it might just come true.

In the words of poet David Whyte, “Everything is waiting for you.”

Hugh Macleod, Gaping Void