Dispatch from the Future

Amazing grace!

DISPATCH FROM THE FUTURE

In the meme I reproduce above, poet Nikita Gill opens her dispatch with “Good news, I just got back from the future.” She beat me to the big headlines: no billionaires, AI in ethical hands, rewilding in hyperdrive, no starving children.

I made the trip to the future, too—all the way to 2065. I stayed longer than she did, maybe because I kept getting invited to dinner by people who wanted to try to understand what the fuck all of us were thinking back in 2026. Here’s some of what else I saw in that new and improved destiny for all of us.

The word “billionaire” is described as “archaic” in the dictionaries of that age. There is no such thing! They weren’t outright banned or exiled to desert islands. It’s just that no one wanted to be such a gross character anymore. Being a paragon of greedy immorality became deeply embarrassing. Would-be billionaires gave away much of their money before reaching that threshold.

The insects returned to the world. On country roads you have to pull over and scrape your windshield again, like in the old days. Suburban lawns have gone shaggy with clover and wild thyme, and bumblebees are so plentiful that kids learn to tell the species apart by their hum. Monarch butterflies migrate in such multitudes that towns along their route hold a Wing Day every autumn.

As an astrologer who loves astronomy and an astronomy geek who loves astrology, I was exultant that the Milky Way Galaxy is again visible in many skies. Light pollution isn’t totally banned, but it’s deeply diminished. Many people recognize constellations as well as their grandparents knew brand logos. Astrology is still around and thriving, I’m happy to report. Bonus: Hardly anyone uses it as a superstitious excuse anymore.

Health care in 2065 is omnipresent and matter-of-fact. It’s simply there when you need it, and no bills arrive later. Doctors spend the necessary unhurried time with each patient. “Medical bankruptcy” is a term history teachers have to explain, and students react the way we might to debtors’ prisons. When I told a nurse in Oakland that people in 2026 set up online fundraisers to pay for their chemotherapy, she laughed, assuming I was joking. Then she saw my face and hugged me.

Many rivers and mountains have legal standing as persons. The precedent was set when the Māori people petitioned the New Zealand government to exalt the status of the Whanganui River in 2017. It became the first river in the world to receive the same legal rights and standing as a human being. Who could have guessed that by 2065, 86 percent of America’s prominent natural features would have the same protections?

Hallelujah and praise the Goddess: Most billboards are gone by 2065. In their place are murals, poems, and enormous hand-painted questions: “What are you secretly good at?” “Who needs your forgiveness?” Advertisers complained for about five years. Then they discovered there was more money in making things people actually wanted.

The standard work week is four days long. The fifth is set aside for reverie and repair and visiting each other. You can spend it however you like, though scheduling a business meeting on it is considered rude.

Many neighborhoods have a Library of Free Things, stocked with stuff like ladders and cellos and telescopes and canning pots and costumes. Garages are emptied out. And since borrowing is how you meet the people three doors down, neighborhood friendships are thriving. That’s the subtlest triumph I saw.

Kids learn math and history with far more joy and competence than they did back in our time. They also learn more practical skills: like how to apologize well, absorb the news with critical discernment, listen to each other without rehearsing a rebuttal, cook for 12, and disagree with someone they love without anyone storming out. The eighth-grade final exam in one school I visited: Make a real friend of someone who isn’t like you.

The oceans are recovering. Kelp forests have grown back along the California coast. There are so many humpbacks, and they’re so talkative, that marine biologists now publish annotated collections of their songs, like editions of Homer.

Loneliness was declared a public health emergency, and the treatment worked. Retirement homes share buildings with daycares. Big apartment blocks are required to have communal kitchens, and Sunday soup night has become a civic holiday, as sacred as the Fourth of July picnic used to be.

Here’s one of the most unbelievably glorious explosions of good news: AI is useful and quiet. It helps farmers predict frost and helps doctors catch tumors early. The giant power-hungry data centers were retired once the models got leaner. The ones that remain run on sun, wind, and geothermal, and are mostly owned by the towns they sit in. Their waste heat warms bathhouses and greenhouses (mangoes growing in Minnesota).

Art, books, songs, and films made with AI stopped drawing attention. Now, real creators make a decent living. They choose whether their work trains models and are paid whenever their influence is used. Give people time and security and, it turns out, they’ll pay for beauty. There are more bands and more dance halls than ever.

Amazingly, over there in the future, there are far fewer prisons. For most nonviolent crimes, restorative justice has taken their place: Offenders sit across from the people they hurt and work out how to make it right. It doesn’t always succeed, but it succeeds often enough that the number of people who reoffend has plummeted. The prisons that remain, reserved for the truly dangerous, are run more like hospitals than cages.

People still get their hearts broken. They lose their parents too soon, make terrible decisions, cheat on lovers they wish they had been faithful to, and argue about whose turn it is to sweep the floor. Sorrow is still there. What’s gone is the industrial production of suffering.

None of this came about because of a few great heroes or one election. Ask people there how it happened, and they’ll tell you about millions of small, unspectacular acts: Someone planted a tree they’d never sit under. Someone kept a promise nobody was checking on. Someone decided, despite everything in the news, that it’s a glorious gift to be a conscious intelligence here on Earth and that life might be conspiring to help us and even liberate us.

That was my favorite part: PRONOIA is a household word in 2065. Few people remember that I wrote the definitive book on the subject, but I’m fine with that. The important thing is that it’s a beloved idea with wide inspirational influence.

The rise and fall of images of the future precede or accompany the rise and fall of cultures. As long as a society’s image is positive and flourishing, the flower of culture is in full bloom. Once the image begins to decay and lose its vitality, the culture does not long survive.

—sociologist Fred Polak

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Hear my spoken-word song, “You Are a Prophet”":

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See and hear me deliver my campaign speech—my proposal to reinvent and redeem the future:

Rob Brezsny: If I Am Elected — delivered at 111 Minna Street in San Francisco

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Check out my Linktree, with links to other things I create: linktr.ee/robbrezs

My new book Enlightenment for Rebels: Celebrating Our Wild and Sacred Earthly Selves in Jubilant Defiance of Disembodied Spirituality is available at online stores, and you can get a 25% discount here: tinyurl.com/SacredEarthySelves

Also available here as an inexpensive e-book.

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FREE WILL ASTROLOGY

Week of October 22

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): Are there parts of the past you’re in bondage to? Maybe some shackles are even beloved to you, like a comfortable old belief, a protective habit, or a story about who you are that once helped you but now confines you. If you’re like most of us (me included!), you have fond memories that unfortunately impose limits on your future. Whatever they may be, dear Scorpio, now is an excellent time to disengage from their hold on you. To begin, make one small but potent gesture of liberation. As you do, say this aloud: “I am no longer chained to outdated versions of myself.” Alternate version, if you’re feeling extra fiery: “I am no longer &^%$@# chained to any *%#@&+ outdated versions of myself.”

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): The Supreme Ministry of Astrological Myth has agreed to my request to temporarily give you a new designation. For the next four weeks, you are authorized to refer to yourself as the Contemplative Adventurer or the Meditative Rambler or the Pensive Pathfinder—or all three, if you like. In bestowing these titles, I’m encouraging you to free up heroic energy for use in your inner realms. One good way to capitalize on this blessing will be to relax in a comfy chair and negotiate truces with your demons. Another recommended activity: Ask the spirits of nature and the songs of birds to heighten your intuition about your future as you take long walks.

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): In 2029, I predict you’ll get nanotech implants to fight the aging of your body, ensuring that you’ll live well past 100. In 2032, you’ll begin downloading your nightly dreams into a digital medium, allowing you to study them at length and bolster your ability to learn from their coded messages. In 2037, you and a loved one will be able to take advantage of technology that allows you to merge telepathically. In 2043, you’ll take a vacation on the moon, where you’ll dance exuberantly in low lunar gravity. But in 2027, your task will be simpler. You’ll learn to love yourself better and treat yourself with more tender kindness than ever before. Now’s a great time to get started!

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Many celebrated chefs insist that acidity is an underestimated element that transforms good food into memorable food. A squeeze of lemon or a splash of vinegar awakens other flavors already present. Consider what the equivalent might be in your own life, Aquarius. What’s the seemingly simple ingredient that could enliven everything else? More playfulness or more walking? More music, more honesty, or more sleep? The astrological omens are clear that now isn’t the time to overhaul your entire existence. Instead, identify one or two subtle additions that make your existing gifts brighter.

PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): Nothing is the same as what it appears to be, but neither is it the opposite of what it seems to be. Life isn’t fair, yet we’d be wrong to say it’s unfair. You should be on the lookout for the words that are NOT being said. Assume that every question has a hidden complication. Be skeptical if anyone tells you the current mysteries are unsolvable and be eager to discover the deeper riddle buried inside each superficial riddle. But now here’s the good news. The maddening complexities will ultimately prove to be fun and helpful if you’re diligent in untangling them. The key to success: Be tender as you explore uncomfortable thoughts and frustrating feelings.

ARIES (March 21-April 19): The 18th-century Aries watchmaker John Harrison solved one of the great scientific problems of his time: how to determine longitude at sea. Many learned astronomers failed to crack the puzzle, yet Harrison, largely self-taught, persisted for decades to refine the method. His breakthrough transformed navigation and enhanced the safety of sea journeys. I nominate Harrison to be your inspirational role model in the coming weeks, Aries. Persistence combined with ingenuity and a trust in your hunches will be more important to your success than your mastery of the way things have always been done.

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TAURUS (April 20-May 20): A greenhouse can coax flowers to open ahead of their natural timetable. I recommend applying a similar approach to the fears taking root in you. Rather than letting them spread gradually and feed you a stream of low-grade dread, push them toward an immediate peak. Let every concern become enormous and fully formed as quickly as possible. Invite the anxieties to arrive all at once. Then meet them in a decisive confrontation, exhaust their drama, and clear space for adventures that will give you deep, sweet pleasure. Set a date for your worrygasm, the grand finale of your fretting, for no later than 48 hours from now.

GEMINI (May 21-June 20): Gemini-born physicist Richard Feynman was famous not only for his brilliance but for his refusal to pretend he understood things he didn’t. He routinely asked childishly simple questions in rooms full of experts. “But why does that happen?” was one of his favorites. Those naïve inquiries often cracked open problems the specialists had stopped seeing. He distrusted jargon and prized the ability to explain a complex idea in plain words. If you can’t explicate it simply, he suggested, you don’t really understand it. I invite you to adopt this as your strategy in the coming weeks, Gemini. Your superpowers will be to pose obvious questions everyone else is too proud or numb to ask, and to insist on answers you can actually understand.

CANCER (June 21-July 22): Cancerian dancer and choreographer Anna Halprin lived to 100 and danced to the end. She taught the idea that movement could heal. Our bodies, given permission to move freely and expressively, know how to release grief, summon joy, and restore wholeness. She once danced through her own cancer diagnosis as a form of medicine and lived for decades longer. Her lesson for you: Your body has its own intelligence, and you can enhance your ability to access it. In the coming weeks, let it lead. Dance, stretch, walk, sway. Trust what your flesh knows that your mind hasn’t figured out yet.

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): In at least one way, Leo, you’ll be coming home during the coming weeks. Perhaps you will discover a sanctuary that brings out your best: a power spot where you feel unguarded and authentic. Or you may gather (or stumble into) the community you’ve always imagined, or link up with a web of allies and resources that once felt out of reach. You might dream of journeying to the land where your ancestors loved and labored for generations, or consider a pilgrimage to a storied place that holds the key to a mystery you’re hungry to resolve.

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Renaissance astronomer and astrologer Tycho Brahe spent decades collecting precise measurements of planetary motion. He never developed a final theory to explain the data, and he harbored mistaken theories about how the solar system worked. But his observations enabled his assistant Johannes Kepler to discover the laws of planetary orbits. You could play a similar role, Virgo. Your careful attention to details can lay the groundwork for important realizations, whether by you or someone working in collaboration with you.

LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): I admire your ability to stay outside the conflict and offer detached, incisive commentary. I respect your preference for avoiding small-minded camps and partisan skirmishes. But in the coming days, I hope you’ll step directly into the muck and bring the passionate contributions of a devotee who’s invested in the outcome. Put the grand ideas aside and stir up good trouble in service of practical justice. Clever sidestepping won’t do; what’s needed are honest tests of what actually works. Be a pragmatist who makes soulful things happen through tender focus on the concrete tasks.

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