Forward Is Where I Breathe

Do you spend more time thinking about the future or the past? Why?

I have learned something honest about myself. I breathe easier when I am facing forward. Not because the past was empty or unkind, but because it has already given me what it came to give. The future, on the other hand, still holds assignments, lessons, and invitations. Thinking ahead is not avoidance for me. It is alignment.

I do not replay the past looking for fixes. I look toward what is becoming possible. Planning is simply how I participate in the days ahead with intention rather than drift.

The Discipline of Looking Ahead

I spend more time thinking about the future because it helps me prepare with clarity. Planning gives my days shape and direction. It is how I honor what matters without rushing or scrambling. When Jeremiah writes that God knows the plans He has for us, plans for hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11), it reframes planning as trust rather than pressure.

I am not interested in controlling outcomes. I am interested in stewarding energy. There is a difference. As Frederick Buechner once wrote, “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet,” and planning helps me notice that intersection before I miss it.

Looking ahead keeps me engaged. It reminds me that growth does not happen by accident. It happens when attention meets intention.

Why I Do Not Live in the Past

I do not dwell in the past because dwelling suggests staying. The past can inform me, but it does not get to define my posture. When a memory carries joy, I let it warm me. When it carries instruction, I let it sharpen me. Then I move on.

Paul’s words in Philippians echo this posture when he writes about forgetting what is behind and pressing on toward what lies ahead (Philippians 3:13–14). That is not denial. That is direction.

Author Joan Didion once observed that “we tell ourselves stories in order to live.” I agree, but I have learned that some stories are meant to close so new ones can begin. The past has chapters I am grateful for, but it is not where my faith stretches or my courage grows.

Soul Insights

1. Planning is how I partner with possibility.

Thinking ahead allows me to meet life with readiness rather than reaction. It gives my days a sense of purpose that feels grounded instead of frantic. Planning becomes a way of listening to what matters most. It keeps me from drifting into distraction. It also reminds me that my choices shape tomorrow long before it arrives.

2. The past deserves respect, not residence.

I honor where I have been without setting up camp there. Memories can offer wisdom, but they are not instructions for staying the same. When I linger too long, I risk confusing nostalgia with growth. Moving forward keeps my perspective honest. It allows gratitude without stagnation.

3. Forward thinking strengthens faith.

Hope requires imagination. When I look ahead, I practice believing that something good is still unfolding. Lamentations reminds me that God’s mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22–23), and forward thinking trains me to expect renewal rather than repetition. Faith grows when expectation does.

4. Progress does not require perfection.

Planning is not about flawless execution. It is about direction. Small, thoughtful steps carry more power than grand intentions left untouched. Forward movement teaches patience with myself. Growth shows up quietly through consistency, not spectacle.

5. Becoming demands participation.

I cannot become who I am meant to be by staying oriented toward who I was. The future asks something of me. It invites courage, learning, and responsiveness. When I plan, I say yes to that invitation. I show up willing rather than waiting.

Final Thoughts

I think about the future because it keeps me awake to growth. The past has shaped me, but it does not steer me. Forward is where my faith gets exercised and my life gains momentum. Progress is not always dramatic, but it is always meaningful when it is intentional.

Your Turn

Where does your attention spend most of its time? Are you learning from what was without letting it anchor you there? What might shift if you gave the future a little more space to speak?

A Gentle Invitation

If reflections like this resonate with you, 17 Syllables of Me offers poetry and prose shaped by faith, memory, and becoming. It is a quiet companion for anyone learning how to move forward with intention, one moment at a time.

Soul Path Insights