Selfish Horizons
Why are we are more optimistic about a future where we see ourselves part of it, but pessimistic about a future where we are no longer part of it.
Post-Trump 2.0, when I was read yet-another-dystopian climate change model update in the New York Times, I realized that I don't see myself in the future, and suddenly it brightens. The abstract becomes personal.
Thereafter I have been reflecting that whenever my family's faces populate my imagined tomorrow, and pessimism retreats. This psychological sleight of hand transforms my outlook completely.
Yet, when I remove myself from the equation, darkness creeps in. The future becomes alien territory, populated by strangers whose motives I question. And I tend to agree with the climate-changed future not too far away.
This dichotomy raises profound questions about my progress. Is true detachment—clinical, dispassionate, removed—necessary for my clear-eyed advancement?
I consider the environmental scientist mapping climate scenarios. Personal investment clouds judgment; detachment clarifies it.
Yet cold assessment without emotional investment rarely inspires me to action. The scientist who sees her grandchildren in those models fights harder for solutions.
Our greatest technological leaps emerged from deeply personal quests. I think of Steve Jobs creating tools he himself wanted to use. Einstein imagining himself riding alongside light beams.
Detachment offers me perspective but attachment provides motivation. This tension defines my relationship with tomorrow.
Reminding myself of the Bhagavad Gita, I encountered a different path. Present awareness without clinging to outcomes.
Perhaps my optimal progress requires a paradoxical stance—emotionally invested yet intellectually detached. Feeling deeply while seeing clearly.
The future that moves me forward might require me to be simultaneously within and outside it. Both participant and observer.
My progress, your future, our future depends on this delicate balance. Too detached, we lack impetus; too enmeshed, we lack perspective.
When I visualize myself in tomorrow's world, I build bridges to it. When I step back to assess it clinically, I design those bridges properly.
True progress emerges not from my detachment alone, but from its dance with attachment. My oscillation between caring deeply and seeing clearly.