This time, I’ll share a story about something obvious that I’ve only just realized over the past few years. It seems obvious now, but for me, it was a life-changing revelation.
I have lived for the future.
Out of the blue, but do you have a dream?
When people hear the word “dream,” they often feel it sounds grandiose and preface their thoughts with, “Well, it’s not really a dream, but…” I believe that no matter how small, a dream is still a dream. If the word ‘dream’ itself becomes a barrier, perhaps we could simply call it “something I want to do” instead.
I lived without dreams. Now I have a dream: “To create a place where animals can live comfortably and happily, and to take in as many homeless animals as possible.” But it’s only been in the last year or two that I’ve become aware of this dream.
Since childhood, I lived solely to meet others’ expectations, never turning my gaze toward what I truly wanted to do. I sacrificed the present to build a wonderful future. That was my way of life. But the “future” is always ahead. If you chase the future, it moves further away. If you call five years from now the future, then five years later, the future will be another five years away. It’s obvious, really.
Without realizing it, I’ve lived my life “for the future.” Using the word “future” makes such behavior seem absurd, yet perhaps many people unknowingly act this way.
“ in order to get into a good school”
“ in order to become a respectable adult”
“ in order to get into a good company”
“ in order to avoid financial hardship”
“ in order to enjoy a comfortable retirement”
When you put it that way, don’t some familiar phrases come to mind?
My mother always used to say things like this. Incidentally, hidden behind those words was the implication: “Work hard now,” “Endure now,” “Bear with it now.” And my mother passed away without ever catching up to that “future.”
The axis of time is not “the future” but “the present.”
I believe this stems from having the “future” as the standard for action. Since the goal is to make the future comfortable, the present naturally becomes a sacrifice. It’s the idea that the present exists in order to serve the future.
This may be a common mindset among the generation that lived through the postwar era. I don’t think my mother held particularly strange beliefs. The Showa era was a time of postwar reconstruction. I suspect that believing “If we endure now, the future will surely be bright” was the only way to hold onto hope for living through that era.
I have lived my life adhering to that belief with almost excessive fidelity. Until depression forced me to reexamine my life, I believed that “because I want to” alone was not a sufficient reason for action.
“I practice kendo because it improves my posture and teaches me manners.”
“I read books because they impart knowledge useful for the future.”
“I play simulation games because they help me develop an objective perspective.”
“I build plastic models because it improves my manual dexterity.”
It’s like this. I thought I was doing what I wanted to do, but I unconsciously felt that I shouldn’t do it unless it had “added value that would be useful in order to the future” on top of “wanting to do it.”
The first manga volume I ever read as an elementary school student was Mitsuteru Yokoyama’s “Romance of the Three Kingdoms.” I wanted to try reading manga, and it offered the chance to learn about the history of the Three Kingdoms. I never read the weekly magazines popular with my classmates, like Weekly Shonen Jump or CoroCoro Comic. Instead, I had my parents buy me the monthly magazine “Shogaku ○-nensei” published by Shogakukan. The reason was that it was educational.
“Wanting to do it” is a perfectly good reason.
It was thanks to my wife that I realized it’s okay to do things simply because I want to.
Months before being diagnosed with depression, my energy was already at its limit. It was then that my wife suggested buying a Nintendo Switch. She had a Switch Lite, but I hadn’t played games much since my student days with the PlayStation 2. That PlayStation 2 itself was something I got when a senior got married and ended up with two consoles at home, offering me one.
I used to love games. But after entering the workforce, I couldn’t find any reason to play them other than “because I want to,” so I only play very rarely.
When I was urged to buy a Switch and hesitated, saying, “I want to, but…,” my wife said, “If you want to, just do it. Let’s buy it.”
Me: “I just want to do it, so I don’t need to buy it.”
Wife: “If you want to do it, then buy it. Wanting to do something is a perfectly good reason. It’s proof you’re seeking it.”
Me: “Huh? I just want to do it. There’s no other reason.”
Wife: “Why? Do you need another reason?”
Me: “…Does wanting to do it count as a reason?”
Wife: “Of course.”
Something inside me exploded. For about a year after that, whenever I felt anxious, I kept asking my wife, “Is wanting to do it really reason enough?” Each time, she affirmed it for me.
After that, I bought a Switch, and I also bought a bass guitar—something I’d been interested in since my student days but never got around to starting. I bought a gaming PC too, and I even tried making YouTube videos. This site is also something I “want to do.” There’s no reason other than “wanting to do it.” But each and every one of these things is coloring my present.
I don’t know if it will be useful in the future. But I am certain that the future is built by accumulating time spent for my present self.
It’s quite ironic that by learning to value what I want to do now, I was able to discover my dream for the future.
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