The future is complete, recorded right now in the history books of our successors and certainly as past tense if we only wait long enough. How then can a person change even one period, one word, one phrase of the sentences that reveal the facts of what happened? We would all very likely want to change the fortunes of the lowly, raise the glass once again with friends and family long since passed, stop a rape, stop a murder, birth a happy baby; we want these things. We feel we want this change, to change the future or the past.
The future is recorded. The past is done. To change the future is to first acknowledge that our feeling of change is really about wanting things to stay the same. We want our departed to be alive, to stay with us. We want happiness to stick. We want our lives to be the same. That is the mental trickery we enact as indictments against our relationship with time and space. To change the future or the past (and yes, you can change the past in the past, which would be their future), we must abandon the same.
"Yesterday the consequences of a choice began. Today is when you chose." That is the random-letter generated excerpt from the Universal Library Algorithm on November 15, 2016, posted then to Twitter. It is the positive defense against our internal choice to indict our relationship with everything else, the unrelenting march we perceive as time and progress and cycle:
Future Imperfect: Yesterday at 3pm Pacific I stood in front of the elevators waiting for them so I could buy some tea at a local coffee shop ~ what the future recorded happening yesterday at 3pm, the same.
Future Perfected: Yesterday at 2 pm Pacific I stand in front of the elevators waiting for them so I can go buy some tea at a local coffee shop ~ my choice today dictating then what will happen yesterday, the change, Future Perfected.
How did I change yesterday? I wrote to myself today, which the ULA showed me yesterday at the breakfast table in one of my daily scrubs of the #RandomExcerpts.
Quite Literally Yours,