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| Copyright © Mark R Kelly 2026 |
Reflections on the past.
Maybe you’ve had the thought cross your mind, “Why doesn’t he ever post about looking forward, of things to come?”
A valid and reasonable question — and one that has sparked this very post: why don’t I talk about the future?
Contemplating future events, or things to come, requires certain elements to be in play.
Planning ahead.
Invitation.
Certainty.
Planning ahead — ideas, schemes, arrangements, and designated events or functions. These are things we have to make plans for regarding future events, outcomes, and results that have some kind of impact on our lives, be they intentional or happenstance.
Invitation — elements that come from outside an individual’s influence or control, usually as a result of third-party communication, such as being invited to a function, party, or event. This adds a window of opportunity to an individual’s future.
Certainty — for an individual to speak of things ahead of time requires certainty in respect to a time and/or place in the future timeline of their life. It could be a pre-arranged party, event, or concert, for example. These elements are certainties within planning ahead.
THE PROBLEM WITH THE FUTURE
The problem with “the future” is that it is not decided. It is fluid. It is unpredictable. More importantly, all our choices are — in essence — a fifty percent chance, no matter how rigid and tightly planning might be.
There are none that know this better than military circles, especially those in the Special Forces arena. There are numerous documented (now declassified) operations where planning has been painstakingly detailed and gone over repeatedly across a period of months, sometimes longer.
And all it takes is one lone goat herder to be where they shouldn’t be, and all that detailed planning and rehearsal goes out the window. Suddenly they are improvising, adjusting, and re-planning on the spot. A classic example being the SAS patrol Bravo Two Zero during the first Gulf War.
There is zero certainty with the future. One can guess, project, or even daydream, but the hard reality is that there is no guarantee with anything in a timeline that has yet to happen. Speculations, maybes, and what-ifs.
WHERE I AM
Everything so far is, more or less, theory belonging to yours truly, so it doesn’t carry much weight.
But from my own experience of a life lived where, in my youth, I looked forward, planned to great degrees, anticipated, and was often let down, I can speak with some degree of certainty.
Life is not a fixed road. Nothing is guaranteed, and not everything you expect will materialise. Growing up, I know I had no other mindset than the opposite. I was certain of everything. Disappointment was never factored into my decision-making — not that my decisions were ever earth-shattering or life-changing. I say that with the “wisdom” of hindsight, which to my mind is just flowery speak for life lessons learned.
There was a stage in my life — in my early twenties — when I was set on becoming a Police Officer. I took jobs in security (shitty little private security firms that had me doing soul-crushingly boring roles for a pittance in pay) in order to show I could be trusted and capable. I was physically very fit, even by my own standards. I was single, so no ties, and therefore able to work anywhere.
I sat the entrance exams and passed with flying colours. The medical was a breeze. The fitness tests I blew out of the water. I was so confident — so much so that I could see myself beginning a new life and career. I was massively excited. The last hurdle was the interviews.
Out of the following Police Forces I applied to — the London Met, Thames Valley, South Yorkshire, and South Wales — I failed every interview.
I was devastated.
The last force I’d applied to was the London Met. Selection was held over several days, and I was placed in a bed and breakfast with three other lads. It was like a badly written joke — we consisted of an English lad (civil servant), a Scots lad (former soldier in the Scots Guards), an Irish lad from Northern Ireland (kids’ football coach), and myself, the Welshman (security guard).
On the last day, we were all interviewed together, as the London Met had a system of interviewing in batches of four, and we were told the results directly after the interview.
It was an odd setup. A corridor with windows dotted along one side, and directly opposite were four individual doors. Opposite each door were two chairs — one empty for the interviewee, the other occupied by what I could only describe as a “tea lady,” each wearing a pinafore.
As soon as I sat next to my assigned lady, she told me: “Do not move the chair when you enter the room. Do not speak until spoken to. Do not offer to shake hands.” Already, I was a bag of nerves.
We entered our respective interview rooms. I was faced with a male and female member of police brass — their epaulettes plastered with silver decoration, signifying very high rank.
To cut short, the male officer sat, hardly speaking, occasionally smiling, and taking notes. The female officer tore me to shreds.
I left my interview a broken man and was told I’d failed. Reason: too polite.
The Scots lad failed. Reason: not enough life experience.
The English lad failed — I cannot remember his reason.
The Irish lad passed, and when asked how it went, he said, with a beaming face, “I had two CID officers interview me and we talked about football.”
It was then I thought: it isn’t meant to be.
On paper, I was a certainty. I went forward thinking that — confident in myself, my abilities, and my physical condition. And yet I failed. Moreover, with every force I applied to, I only failed at the interview stage. Every other aspect I breezed through.
So where am I going with this? That anecdote is my way of proving that the future is never guaranteed, no matter how positive, confident, qualified, or wonderful you are — or think you are. There will always be variables totally out of your control or influence.
Conversely, when the stars align and everything falls into place, the magic happens, and suddenly the world is a wonderful place.
Ask yourself this: how many times have you aimed for something, not given it much thought, and carried on with life regardless — and boom, it more or less falls into your lap? Probably more times than you think.
Then you have the reverse — those times you were so desperate for something that it occupied your thoughts day and night. You did everything right, and zilch.
Nothing is guaranteed for our future, as I previously mentioned.
Now, turning back to my original topic of why I tend to lean more on my past, previous life experiences, and anecdotes — it’s because they are mine, tangible, and relatable. They are lived-in moments I can draw upon and reference.
So I talk about the past and the present — the two things I can be sure about — whereas the future has yet to be.
I could blab on about writing and how I’m going to publish my cyberpunk novel and do this and do that, but the truth of the matter is I have no clue how it will turn out, or even if I’ll finish it. So rather than make broad, sweeping statements that are potentially wildly inaccurate and based on nothing more than a desired outcome, I say nothing.
None of us know what’s around the proverbial corner, and to think otherwise, I feel, is naïve at best. Especially when almost every decision you make regarding your future is usually dependent on someone else — a person whose mind you cannot read, influence, or control. Part of that fifty-percent-chance aspect I mentioned earlier.
Please do not take away from this that I’m totally against living a life where your outlook is forward-thinking and positive. Quite the opposite. Be optimistic. Plan ahead. Strive for your goals. Set targets and aim high whenever possible.
But when you reach a certain point in your life where your past outweighs your future, the tendency is to be more reflective and appreciative of what has gone before — and of those who have travelled your life path with you. The future becomes less assured and more unpredictable than you’d like.
It’s just me dusting off old memories and recycling them in the hope that maybe someone will find them of use. Whether they’re entertaining, instructional, or even educational, I couldn’t say. I’m just happy that they give a modicum of reading pleasure.
I now leave you with Lucy Rose - "Shiver".
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