Above is my pick from among the over 500 million choices I might have made: The future belongs to the few of us still willing to get our hands dirty.
It’s a catchy little thing, isn’t it? And don’t you love the visual of the dirty hands? I do.
But here’s the thing: I didn’t pick this one because it inspired me. Quite the opposite, in fact: I picked it because it doesn’t inspire me.
What it does is make me stop and wonder why I would believe even for an instant that I am “one of the few” and why that would matter either way.
When it comes to this notion of changing our future, I fear I am not one of the few.
I’m not even sure there are a few.
There might be many or there might be none at all.
Either way, I doubt I’m among them.
So what if I am or if I am not?
Really – so what?
And does not the present require more of me than the future?
Can I really be in a position, dwelling as I do in the present, to dictate anything, including change, to the future? And even if I can, should I?
Could things be better?
Should they be better?
Will they be better?
(I am not in a position to know)
The present tense is all I can inhabit. It is where I dwell. To ponder the future as if I were in a position to shape it . . . well, even to think on that makes me tremble.
The present tense is my domain.
I am struggling every second of every minute of it to inhabit it well.
From that struggle, perhaps the future will be better.
I know not.
So, seriously, I doubt I am or ever will be one of the few.
My own non-resolving New Year’s resolution: to inhabit my own peculiar lack of specialness with the comfort of old shoes and holey blue jeans and call that good and good enough . . . that’s me for today . . . tomorrow? Who knows.