Borrowing Tomorrow
What happens in the spaces in between?
We have an interesting relationship with tomorrow.
We assume it will come.
And most of the time, it does.
But somewhere along the way, many of us begin living there long before we’ve arrived.
We rehearse conversations that haven’t happened. We anticipate outcomes that don’t exist. We solve problems that may never appear. We carry the emotional weight of an imaginary future until it feels just as real as today.
In a sense, we’re borrowing tomorrow’s currency.
And like any loan, there’s interest.
The interest shows up like anxiety, exhaustion and future trippin…
I’ve been there myself: rehearsing the role play script and the what if scenarios over and over in my head the night before and walk into a high stakes moment the next day and everything they asked me was off script.
Years ago, a mentor told me something that sounded almost too simple.
“The only time you have is the present moment.”
I nodded politely.
Then I spent the next twenty years misunderstanding what they meant. Well…hey, time takes time.
I thought living in the present meant saying yes to every adventure. Traveling more. Being spontaneous. Chasing experiences. While those things have their place, that’s not what they was actually talking about.
Presence isn’t about squeezing every drop out of life.
It’s about fully inhabiting the life that’s already in front of you.
Because there’s only so much one person can do in a day.
And perhaps that’s exactly the point.
Tomorrow will come.
God willing, it will arrive right on schedule.
But if you’re already emotionally living there, you’ve unknowingly abandoned today.
I’ve noticed this pattern in almost every season of my life.
Early in my corporate sales career, I wanted to win.
Every quarter.
Every account.
Every opportunity.
I thought if I just prepared a little more, worked a little harder, anticipated every objection, stayed one step ahead of every possible scenario, success would become inevitable.
Preparation is valuable.
Obsession is expensive.
There’s a difference.
Eventually I learned one of the greatest lessons sales has ever taught me:
Prepare thoroughly.
Walk into the room.
Then let go.
Because no discovery call, boardroom presentation, interview, or negotiation has ever unfolded exactly as planned.
The plan gives you direction.
Your presence is what gives you adaptability.
The best salespeople I’ve met weren’t the ones who memorized every script.
They were the ones who trusted themselves enough to respond to what was actually happening instead of clinging to what they hoped would happen.
That lesson followed me far beyond business.
It showed up in relationships.
In starting over after jobs ended.
In heavy unexpected life conversations that I was totally unprepared for.
In the quiet moments where I realized I was spending today’s energy trying to control tomorrow’s possibilities.
High achievers are especially vulnerable to this.
We’re rewarded for thinking ahead.
For anticipating.
For solving problems before they happen.
Those qualities build incredible careers.
But unchecked, they can quietly steal your peace.
Because eventually every future problem begins requesting a deposit from today’s emotional bank account.
And we keep paying.
I’ve become gentler with myself over the past year.
Not because I’ve lowered my standards.
Quite the opposite.
I’ve simply learned that discipline and trust belong together.
I still prepare.
I still study.
I still train.
I still care deeply about doing excellent work.
But when the preparation is complete, I stop negotiating with tomorrow.
I release it.
Tomorrow will ask something different of me than today ever could.
And when it arrives, I’ll meet it there.
Not here.
There’s something deeply freeing about accepting that some days your entire assignment is simply to do today’s work well.
Nothing more and nothing less.
Write the article.
Make the phone call.
Take the walk.
Finish the workout…even if it’s 30 minutes.
Have the difficult conversation.
Read the chapter.
Love the people in front of you.
Rest when your body asks for it.
Then close the day.
There will always be another mountain visible from the one you’re climbing.
If you’re constantly staring at the next peak, you’ll never appreciate the view from the one you’re standing on.
Ironically, the more I’ve stayed rooted in today, the less frightening tomorrow has become.
Not because tomorrow became predictable.
Because I became more present.
More trusting.
More available for whatever actually arrives.
The future has a way of convincing us it deserves today’s attention.
It rarely does.
Tomorrow doesn’t need you yet.
Today does.
