The future

While I was on a tour of the new Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis, I experienced something quite interesting in the lobby outside of the Joe Dowling studio theatre. You see, the studio theatre is on what is (I believe) the highest accessible level of the building; and built into the floor was a glass pane. It was a strong glass pane, strong enough for all thirteen of us to stand on at once if we would have had the nerve. The reason we did not have that nerve, was because when you looked down, there was a fifty-foot drop down to the roof below. This being the case, I tried to stroll onto it as nonchalantly as I could, and (as a man should) peer downwards curiously, and unshaken by the height; while deep in my mind I felt a small chill run up my spine as I felt the winds blow past me in the couple of seconds that I fell towards that pebble covered roof. After having stood on the glass for a long enough amount of time (to prove to myself that I was not that afraid of heights), I casually sauntered onto the seemingly solid, non-transparent portion of the lobby floor; all the while secretly kissing the ground I now stood on).

I think that in our lives, we live in the present much like I was standing on that glass. You do it because it is a part of living. You cannot resist being, at least physically, in the present. I also think that we have the tendency to look on the future the way I looked on the stone-tiled floor. "Once we get off of this uncertain, unfounded present I will be happy. I will be content with what I have, once I am there, in the future." When, in reality, the opaqueness of the future-floor is really just an illusion. Once you get to it, you will look down and find yourself facing just as much uncertainty. Just as much fear. Just as much longing for that future-floor, that you tell yourself is the real thing. That the other times, when the floor was transparent, that those were flukes. But they were not.

We have to live our lives in the present, or we will not be living our lives. We will just be planning them. You have to let yourself revel in that uncertainty. I think that there is a certain aspect to life, that allows for you to take the things that you are uncertain about, afraid of, and confused by and be thankful for them. The interesting parts of life are not the ones without conflict. Maybe a lot of people just do not want to have interesting lives; but I suspect that most of them do. I know I do. I know that it is going to be hard, if my life really gets interesting, but in the end I think it will be worth it. At that point, it may even be fun.