The best is not behind you.
The best is not behind us. It’s still unfolding.
Say it again to yourself.
Write it down.
Stick it somewhere you can see it.
Dare to believe it.
But also, remember that best doesn’t always mean easier. It doesn’t mean painless or predictable. Often it means truer, deeper and more aligned.
I’ve had an Eleanor Roosevelt quote circling my thoughts these past few days: “The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.” I love that she spoke those words into a moment in history that was anything but beautiful. Post-war. A weary, depressed people. They heard those words first.
Words matter. Words become worlds.
And if you’re paying attention to the news right now, we’re seem to be standing at a pretty wild intersection of human history. Which makes the words we choose and the worlds we create with them, more important than ever.
As that quote has been marinating in me, I’ve also been watching the wave of 2016 nostalgia roll across social media. You know something is hype when everyone else is doing it, and almost without thinking, you start considering crafting your own perfectly curated 2016 album for Instagram.
I nearly did. Then I stopped. It felt weird. And I trust that feeling enough to listen to it.
I realised why it isn’t for me.
I’m far more interested in looking ahead (if we’re going to be anywhere other than the present moment).
One journaling tool I return to often is writing from my future self to my current self.
Yesterday, instead of staring down memory lane, I wrote a letter from my 54-year-old self to my 44-year-old self (now). I love imagining her. She’s ahead. She’s wiser, stronger, more free and somehow softer too. What’s not to love?
She takes my hand and walks me toward a future that feels spacious and beautiful. I’m not rushing or forcing anything there. I’m becoming.
It’s a simple practice, but it’s a powerful one. This is how I think about vision journaling: write as if it’s already happened. Taste it. Touch it. See it. Feel it.
I’m a firm believer that the best is not behind us. The best is still unfolding.
My kids roll their eyes when I say, “Look into your bright future,” while I take photos like this. I still say it. And I mean it. Looking ahead is a practice. So is hope.
Captured recently at 18 On The Hill in the Kruger.

