Worn out adages: be present, focus on now, seize the day. Meditation, anti-anxiety techniques and spiritual self-help often prescribe some form of hyperfocus on the present as a well-being-cure-all.
And to a great degree this seems right. Other than memories and dreams, our ideas and sensations are about what we experience presently. It makes sense to match our focus to our experience.
But it’s not a complete framework, ignoring past and future—also significant parts of how we experience time.
Sophocles says, “Tomorrow is tomorrow. Future cares have future cures, and we must mind today.”
But I wonder if some future cares might have present cures, if some of tomorrow is in today. For example, it’s hard to carpe diem, if you haven’t studied for your exam tomorrow.
A skeptic of extremes, I want to see if there is a balance between present and future (there also seems to be a past-present balance, but in this post I want to talk about present-future).
Carpe diem—a.k.a., “seize the day”—comes from the longer: carpe diem quam minimum credula postero. Which appears in Book 1 of Horace’s Odes and more literally translates to: “pluck the day, trusting as little as possible in the next one.”
So Horace has the present-hyperfocus, but at least allows for some future “trust.” I want to think about how much is “as little as possible?”
Mathematically, we’re working with something like this:
Utility = {(present time) * [(utility from present focus) – (non-utility planning for future)]} + {(future time) * [(utility from future (now present) focus) + (utility from previous planning for future (now present)) – (non-utility planning for (more distant) future)]}
Where utility is all the joy, happiness, success and other “good stuff” that we get out of life from now until death; time is some finite unit of time; utility from focus is “good stuff” from smelling the roses, etc.; planning is something like studying for an exam or investing in a 401(k) that makes more “good stuff” in the future. And we assume that “present focus” and “planning for future” sum to some finite unit of time.
And it gets way more complicated if we consider the future as individual successive present moments and that certain planning “targets” certain futures, and way way more complicated if we consider time is continuous not discrete.
But the equation now allows us to state clearly our objective: “as little as possible,” or, in each finite unit of time, the least possible time spent planning for future, while still maximizing future utility.
And this actually gives us a decision framework for splitting time between focusing on the present and planning for the future:
If (future utility from planning for future * probability of survival to experience that future) > (utility from present focus), then spend more time planning for future.
If (future utility from planning for future * probability of survival to experience that future) < (utility from present focus), then spend more time focusing on the present.
This assumes we are indifferent between experiencing utility now versus later (which, I actually think is a bad assumption, considering we get old and slow, but again that’s too complicated).
The most variability in this decision comes from your estimate for “probability of survival,” where a high probability will tilt the decision toward future planning, and vice-versa.
And this is where adages like “you only live once” and “no such thing as tomorrow” have relevance because life is short and probability of survival might not actually be that high, in which case I think it makes utility-maximizing sense to err toward investing more time in present focus.
But then again, there are heights to be achieved that require a commitment to the future, a bet on the probability of survival, which then subjects the decision framework to risk-preference.
Where I think the true synergy of the balance exists is in habits and activities that simultaneously allow for both present focus and future planning, present enjoyment and future benefit: reading, doing work your passionate about, exercising in a form you love, eating food that both tastes good and is healthy.
But then again, I can imagine things in the present that are very bad for your future but so great in the present. Maybe having one or two too many drinks at the bar: it will hurt in the morning, probably kill some brain cells, but maybe it makes one of your best memories.
It’s not as easy as the math makes it seem. Because when you’re chopping at the roots it’s hard to see above the treetops. When you’re having fun, it’s hard to think about the future. When you’re working hard, it slips your mind to stop and smell the roses.
At least now, at a party or late-night conversation when your friend asks: “What would you do if you only had [insert small amount of time] to live?”
Instead of giving your usual answer: “I don’t know, tell my family I love them, go paragliding, then jump off the Empire State Building at the right moment so my time runs out in mid-air.”
You can say: “I’d make a present-future utility maximizing decision.” And if they don’t leave immediately after that, you can show them your calculations.
Pluck the day my friends.