2020: The Unimaginable Year

Who would have thought?

It’s just a few hours before the calendar will flip over to the year 2020. And I’m still here. I never thought I would be.

Earlier today I created a new worksheet in my Excel budget and cash flow document. It’s a fresh worksheet for the year 2020. I have sheets for each year going back to 2008. I kept track like that even earlier, but I don’t have those docs any longer, only the ones I’ve been keeping since I’ve been in Ukraine.

As I looked at the year on the new tab – 2020 – I was struck by the numbers themselves. I am about to enter into another decade, just one more on top of the dusty pile. But what I really got to thinking about was years ago when I was in my teens, my 20s, my 30s, and how I could never have imagined even being alive in such a futuristic year as 2020.

Back in the 70s and 80s, even the year 2000 – the next century – was too far in the future to seem realistic. The only things that would get me thinking about it occasionally were futuristic movies and Prince telling us to “Party like 1999.” In the early and mid-90s, it was getting closer but still seemed unreal.

And then it happened: 1999 became 2000. And I seemed to have missed the party that Prince promised us.

If 2000 was too far in the future to think about, imagine how 2020 must have seemed. Twenty years more. I really could not even begin to imagine myself at such a far-off time. To be honest, I didn’t think I would even live that long. To be even more honest, I don’t think I really wanted to live that long. The thing I feared most was becoming old, and – damn! – it has happened.

I guess I should be glad that I am still here. In my mind I don’t feel as old (and decrepit) as I thought I would. My body, on the other hand, likes to remind me otherwise.

Getting back to those movies, they certainly over-promised the future. Back in those glorious days of my youth, we were promised that by this time we would be exploring the stars and have all kinds of amazing and wonderful devices. I fully expected that by now I would be able to teleport instantly to other parts of the world as easily as I walk from my kitchen to the bathroom now. In fact, I probably could have teleported from the kitchen to the bathroom.

But, nope… hasn’t happened.

I was certain that we would have flying cars by now, perhaps even running on nuclear fusion generators (yeah… “Back to the Future”), but that too was just a pipe dream. It’s probably for the best; living in Ukraine and seeing how poorly drivers do in two dimensions, I can only imagine the carnage if we had cars operating in three.

But to get back to the point (not that this post really has one), we are about to step into the third decade of the century. I won’t say how many decades this has been for me. Let’s just say it’s “too many” and leave it at that. It leaves me with a certain sadness that so much of my life has been lost to the past and so little now remains for the future. But that’s how life is.

No. I never thought it would be this way.

As I wrote five years ago in my post, Life at the Speed of Time, the cruelest thing about time is the way it accelerates faster and faster as we get older. Time just keeps passing quicker and quicker – and then we are gone.

I am moving closer and closer to the ultimate abyss. I know this. But there is still a bit of space left between now and that point. I don’t know for sure how much, but some. I just hope I can use that time better than I have for the past decade or so.

The year that I could never imagine is here. It is going to be a year of big change. All the changes that I have been touting year after year since at least 2012 are about to happen. Do I have enough time to make them count for something? Or, as I feared in my youth, is 2020 too far gone?

Time will tell… as it always does.

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This was a pretty random post. But that’s what happens when you sit at the computer with a bottle of wine. I was determined to write my 100^th blog post before the New Year, and for better or worse, here it is.

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Now is All There Is

Imagine a tiny circle of light in a universe of neverending darkness. What you see in the circle is the present moment in your life. Your life runs along a line from right to left. The right is the future coming into the circle, and the left is the past that has exited the circle.

This circle is like a small looking glass that shows you what is happening now. What you see in the illuminated circle is all there is; nothing else is real. Before it gets to the circle, the future part of your life's time line doesn’t exist because it hasn’t yet emerged from the dark. And after it leaves the circle, it ceases to exist as it is swallowed up by the past. It is gone and can never return.

Only what is in the lighted circle is real. The lighted circle is now, and it is all there is.

A Case Study

It sounds cliché because we hear it said, and we read Internet memes all the time that tell us to “live in the now,” or “only the now exists.” But although it has become trendy and trite, it is, nevertheless, true. I have been thinking a lot about this the past few years, and yesterday, as I sat on an airplane jetting from Brussels to Kyiv, it was solidly on my mind.

For the four and a half days of my visit to my daughter’s home in Belgium, my reality was the sights and sounds of the marvelous old house that they are renovating: the smiles and laughter of children who love me (and whom I love); a big, shaggy and gentle black dog; sleep-filled nights in a cold – yet wonderfully quiet – room; the sounds of spoken French and Dutch; a delicious Thanksgiving dinner.

What was not real was my life in Kharkiv. It was in the past and would return from the future, but for those days it was (almost) as though it did not exist.

But suddenly my short-lived reality in Belgium slid out of the lighted circle and faded into the darkness of the past, almost like it had never happened, like it had been a dream. My new reality at the time I wrote most of this in a notebook was my seat on an airplane and the space around me: the tall, young and attractive girl to my left on the other side of an empty seat and the strange old guy across the aisle in the row to my right who had all three seats to himself and took advantage to spread his meal across all three tray tables. More power to him! It was about the nasty guy behind me who kept pushing on my seat back and then complained if I reclined a few inches.

My “now” at that time was the whooshing drone of the jet engines, the ring of various aircraft alerts, and the buzz of passengers, punctuated occasionally by a crying child. It was the deep blue divider curtains hanging in front of me and across the aisle to my right. Outside the plane it was a blue sky above white clouds that had all turned dark halfway through the flight.

But even that was fleeting. The timeline moved again and the flight became lost in the past. Beneath the lighted circle now was Boryspil Airport, a crowded shuttle bus and a race to the passport control line. It was going through security again, and then boarding yet another cold shuttle bus for the flight to Kharkiv. It was similar to the reality at the Brussels airport, but yet it wasn’t the same; that reality had been lost to the darkness of the past hours before.

And so it continued. I was once again on an airplane, and all that was real was what surrounded me for that 50-minute flight. Then it was gone, and reality became snowy Kharkiv and a taxi ride back to my apartment.

Finally, the entire trip – from beginning to end – had slid under the lighted circle and run off into the oblivion of the past. It was gone, and once again, my reality was my apartment, road noise and neighbor noise, trying to sleep but finding it hard.

And so it continues. “Back to reality,” as they say. Today it was work, classes, and everything else that makes up my mundane daily reality. But that too will become just a memory one day soon as it fades into the past for good, replaced by yet a new reality.

The Nature of Our Lives

The now keeps shifting along the timeline of our lives, and only what is happening now is illuminated by that little circle of light. It is the only thing that is truly real. And each reality, each “now,” constantly fades out of existence as it is replaced by a new now. And it seems to me that as I get older, this process happens faster and faster.

Vacations really drive home how this transition works, and they also present us with a certain sadness over how the now can never remain. I touched on this in a blog post called, “Post-VacationBlues,” the final installment of my series on my “Dream Vacation” to Portugal and the Azores in 2016. I noted how during the vacation my regular life didn’t seem to exist, but once I was back in Kharkiv, the entire two weeks of travel felt like little more than a dream.

Like everything else, vacations move out of the little circle of light and speed off into the darkness that becomes the past. We remember that it happened, and we have photos and souvenirs to remind us. So, in a respect, it did exist – but it doesn’t exist any longer because it’s not the now.

In another post, “Life at the Speed of Time,” I also looked at how time just flies by faster and faster to the point that most of my life just seems like a series of dreams, sort of like movies I might have seen. The further in the past certain events, places or people are, the more I question whether they ever happened at all. Once again, I know logically that they did exist, but I understand that they no longer do.

So once time rolls past that little illuminated circle and into the past it stops being real, it just doesn’t exist any longer. And the future, likewise is not real, at least not until it reaches our little looking glass and – briefly – becomes the now. Plans, dreams, hopes, expectations: none of them exist, until they do. And then they too are fleeting and are soon consumed by the past.

In those cliché admonishments about “living in the now,” we are told to focus on what is happening at the moment, to enjoy it and to get the most out of it. The reason is that once the time has slipped past the small lighted circle, it is gone forever. Most of us really don’t focus on the now and make the most of it.

I have to admit that for most of my life, I have been too busy worrying about the future or fretting about the past to really enjoy the now. And that is my loss, because someday the future will stop coming. Someday, there will no longer be a now.

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