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But What Do I Want? Maybe It’s Time to Ask Again
There’s a question that sounds ridiculously simple:
What do I want?
Not what does my family need.
Not what should I be doing.
Not what would be practical.
Not even what did I used to want.
What do I want — now?
And sometimes, especially after 50 or 60, that can be a surprisingly difficult question to answer.
When Did We Stop Asking?
For much of our lives, there’s a built-in next step.
Finish school. Find a job. Build a career. Get married — or don’t. Raise children — or don’t. Buy a house. Pay the bills. Take care of people. Make dinner. Remember the birthdays. Keep everything moving.
There’s always something that needs our attention.
And somewhere along the way, “What do I want?” can quietly get replaced with:
“What needs to happen next?”
Then life changes.
Children grow up. Careers shift. Retirement gets closer — or arrives. Relationships change. Our bodies change. Our priorities change.
Suddenly, for perhaps the first time in decades, there may actually be room to ask:
What would I like the next part of my life to look like?
And our minds go completely blank.
Maybe the Problem Isn’t That You Don’t Know
I don’t think we necessarily lose our ability to dream.
I think sometimes we just get out of practice.
If you haven’t asked yourself what you want in a very long time, expecting yourself to suddenly produce a detailed five-year plan is asking an awful lot.
So don’t.
Start smaller.
Where would you like to wake up one morning?
What would you like to wear somewhere?
Is there a trip you’d love to take?
Something you’ve always wanted to learn?
A room you’d like to walk into?
An experience you’d love to have?
Who would be there with you?
How would you feel?
You don’t have to decide whether it’s practical yet.
You’re just remembering how to imagine.
Don’t Ask for a Plan. Ask for a Picture.
This is one of the reasons I love creating Future Memories.
Instead of sitting down and trying to answer the enormous question, “What do I want to do with the rest of my life?” I can create one little scene from a future I’d enjoy experiencing.
Maybe I’m dressed up for opening night on Broadway.
Maybe I’m sitting beside a lake.
Maybe I’m traveling somewhere I’ve always wanted to see.
Maybe I’m celebrating something I haven’t accomplished yet.
For a moment, I don’t have to figure out how I’m going to get there.
I can simply see myself there.
And sometimes that picture tells me more than a list of goals ever could.
Your Future Doesn’t Have to Look Like Your Past
There’s another part of this question that I think matters:
The answer is allowed to change.
What you wanted at 30 doesn’t have to be what you want at 60.
The dream you put on a vision board ten years ago doesn’t have to stay there simply because you once chose it.
You’re allowed to change the picture.
In fact, maybe that’s the whole point.
We spend so much time looking backward for evidence of who we are that we sometimes forget we can also look forward and ask who we might still become.
Try This
Instead of asking yourself:
“What do I want?”
Try asking:
“What is one future moment I would love to remember?”
Don’t worry about whether it’s impressive enough.
Don’t worry about whether anyone else would understand it.
And definitely don’t worry about whether you know how to make it happen yet.
Just picture the moment.
Where are you?
What are you doing?
What are you wearing?
Who is beside you?
And what does the future version of you already know that you’re only beginning to discover?
That’s your first Future Memory.
And perhaps the answer to “But what do I want?” doesn’t arrive as a five-year plan.
Maybe it begins with one picture.
Ready to Make a Future Memory?
You can create your first Future Memory FREE with the Future Memory Maker.
The KARA Effect
See it. Remember it. Become it.