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And when we say the future what we mean is (all) futures. A plurality so vast we could never hold it in our mouth. That defies language. That is as wide and deep as the present. Entangled, multiple, interwoven. Always becoming.

You are breathing the future. You are sitting in the sunshine of the future. You are held, every day by the future. You are dreaming the future, which is also dreaming you.

If you cannot imagine a different kind of future, do not worry. Put your phone down and go outside. Or lie down by a window and look outside. Lay your body on the earth. Or sit by a creek. The future does not need to be imagined. It is already here, every moment of each day.

The empire knows so little of the earth and how it actually works. Every day we learn the limitations of its cruel imagination. How could a death machine imagine a future? How could we, bound up in the imagination of empire, imagine a future?

But the future is not either of these things. The future is the earth. It is the way the earth has moved for a billion lifetimes. Intertwined. Relational. Mycelial. Endlessly guided by memory. It is how people have lived on and in and with the earth for as long as there have been people.

But both of these views are based in an extremely limited viewpoint: either the future is so different from the now that it cannot be imagined, or it is depressedly, endlessly the same.