"The future is always beginning now"
About this Quote
Time doesn’t arrive with a ribbon-cutting ceremony; it leaks in through the cracks of the present. Strand’s line has the quiet audacity of good poetry: it takes a phrase that usually flatters procrastination - “the future” as some later, cleaner life - and drags it into the only place anything can happen, now. The syntax does the work. “Always” refuses the fantasy of a single turning point, the miraculous Monday when you finally become yourself. “Beginning” turns the future from a destination into an action, something continuously authored. It’s not a prophecy; it’s a discipline.
The subtext is both consoling and accusatory. Consoling because it denies the tyranny of irreversible time: if the future is perpetually beginning, then you are never fully locked out of change. Accusatory because it removes excuses: if the future starts now, your choices are already writing it, even the choices you don’t dignify as choices. Waiting is still a form of making.
Context matters with Strand, a poet preoccupied with absence, the slipperiness of identity, the way ordinary moments feel haunted by what’s just out of reach. Coming of age in a century obsessed with progress narratives and apocalyptic deadlines, he offers an anti-spectacle view of history: the future isn’t a headline, it’s a verb tense. The line lands as a corrective to both utopian hype and end-times despair. It insists that whatever comes next is not merely awaited; it’s continually initiated, in small, almost invisible starts.
The subtext is both consoling and accusatory. Consoling because it denies the tyranny of irreversible time: if the future is perpetually beginning, then you are never fully locked out of change. Accusatory because it removes excuses: if the future starts now, your choices are already writing it, even the choices you don’t dignify as choices. Waiting is still a form of making.
Context matters with Strand, a poet preoccupied with absence, the slipperiness of identity, the way ordinary moments feel haunted by what’s just out of reach. Coming of age in a century obsessed with progress narratives and apocalyptic deadlines, he offers an anti-spectacle view of history: the future isn’t a headline, it’s a verb tense. The line lands as a corrective to both utopian hype and end-times despair. It insists that whatever comes next is not merely awaited; it’s continually initiated, in small, almost invisible starts.
Quote Details
| Topic | New Beginnings |
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