Hosting multiple futures is exhausting.

Why is uncertainty so unnerving? Why is it so taxing? Precisely because the realm of uncertainty harbors multiple futures—things can go one way, they can go the other way. Holding onto multiple futures leaves us living in a multiplied, fractured reality. I might get this job, I may remain unemployed; she may decide to go out with me, she may not; the Democrats may win, the Republicans may win; etc., etc. Binary outcomes are the simpler manifestations of uncertainty—in many cases, we cannot even conceive of what may happen and may thus scope out several different possible futures depending on the outcome.

Imagination requires energy—and some imaginings beget energy, while others solely consume energy. I know when I imagine a new musical composition, hear an arrangement in my mind, I'll often get a rush of excitement that's really inconvenient for my sleep hygiene. Conversely, when I imagine the outcomes of a family illness or a market crash, the spawned fear absorbs my energy and converts it into anxiety or depression. Let's take one of those examples to illustrate hosting multiple futures.

The market may boom, the market may crash. Experienced investors tell us it's a fool's errand to time the market (unless you've got some insider trading info, you lucky criminal dog, you). Let's fabricate a scenario and say we're obligated to invest all our money, and we don't know where to put our money because a set of fictitious circumstances makes the possibility of an economic crash or boom equally likely. You may get rich, you may lose your money, you may stay in the same position, or fall somewhere in between those points. Now the supreme obligator in this imagined world tells you that you must plan the next five years of your future or go to jail. How do you do it?

Of course, the supreme obligator can f*** off, but the stress of the scenario remains—when various scenarios with vastly different outcomes are equally possible, how can you plan your life? Cutting to the answer—making your best choice according to your values—but it's not so much the answer that interests me. The uncertainty of the future and the entertaining of multiple possibilities generate a baseline anxiety, a sort of persistent vigilance that consumes energetic cycles in the background.

Meditation traditions will lead us to the present moment. What time is it? The time is now. Coming back to our breath, to the present moment, is a powerful regulator. And yet our endowment of imagination and planning remains a function we need to leverage to improve our lives; in extreme cases, we need that to protect our family from real danger.

Perhaps a household analogy can assist. Our mind is in a one-bedroom apartment—no chance of upgrading or remodeling. You can only host one person at a time. Well, you can choose to host multiple guests, but it's going to get pretty cramped in there. The needs of each guest may exceed what the space of your mind can offer. The guests may fight each other—and you, as the host, may also get into tiffs with them. It's probably best to host one guest at a time and know that they are visitors. The space of your mind is yours alone.