# The Magnificent Power of Your Undone Future

Here's a delightful paradox: the future doesn't exist yet, which means it's currently perfect.

Think about it. That presentation next week? It hasn't happened, so technically, it's going flawlessly. Your upcoming vacation exists in a quantum state of infinite possibility—every sunset more stunning than the last, every meal a culinary revelation. Schrödinger would be proud.

The Romans had a phrase for this: *amor fati*, or love of fate. But I'd argue we can do one better with *amor possibilitas*—love of possibility. Because before fate arrives, we live in the delicious realm of potential, where our dreams haven't yet been rudely interrupted by reality's editorial notes.

Consider the humble acorn. Does it worry that it might not become the mightiest oak in the forest? Does it lose sleep over potentially being just a *medium-sized* oak? No. It simply orients itself toward oakness and gets on with it. This is not ignorance—it's directional optimism, and it's remarkably efficient.

Neuroscience backs this up in unexpected ways. Our brains are prediction machines, constantly writing rough drafts of the future. But here's the twist: optimistic predictions actually change our behavior in ways that make positive outcomes more likely. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy with a PhD. When you expect good things, you take actions that invite them—you smile more, you try harder, you notice opportunities that pessimism would filter out.

The Victorian philosopher William James called this "acting as if." Even if you're not sure things will work out, acting as if they will creates what he termed "a genuine option"—a real possibility that wouldn't exist otherwise. You're not being naive; you're being architectonic, building a structure for good fortune to inhabit.

But let's be clear: optimism isn't about denying difficulty or pretending everything is unicorns and rainbows. It's more sophisticated than that. It's about recognizing that uncertainty swings both ways. If things could go wrong, they could also go surprisingly right. And given that you have to spend your mental energy somewhere, why not invest it in scenarios that energize rather than deflate you?

So today, try this: treat the future like the rough draft it actually is. You're a co-author, not just a reader. And the best part? The story hasn't been printed yet. You've still got editorial privileges.

Now that's something worth getting up for.

This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI