On the Becoming of Future Makers

A word.

Many words.

Words put together, into a story.

What power they hold.

The power to shape our future.

An image.

A collage.

Many different pictures, put together as one.

What power it holds.

The power to decide our future.

I had a story.

I had an image.

Of the future, I wanted to live.

Then I woke up and I understood.

This is not my story.

This is not my image.

Now I stand on the threshold of decisions.

Shall I create a new story?

Shall I paint a new image?

I find resistance within. Strong resistance.

I feel that words and images are too narrow.

I feel that my capability of imagining is far too limited to imagine the possibilities of my future.

By keeping myself from shaping my possible future with words or images,

I instead say Yes to the Adventures and Beauty that might come my way.

I no longer want to tell the story of my future.

I only want to tell the story of my past.

And live the making of my future.

I make my future.

By consciously choosing to live in this single moment.

And this one.

And this.

Everything else is just a story or an image.

An illusion.

I am a future maker.

I choose life.

I choose now.