There we were, sitting at the base of a towering Buddha statue that had to be at least one hundred feet tall.
Awestruck by what is still the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen in the mountainous city of Pai, Thailand nestled in the northern region of the country.
Sweat dripped down our foreheads as we sipped our still frosty chang beers (unconcerned with seeking Buddha’s approval).
My four new friends and I, all of whom I’d recently met at a three day meditation retreat, sat there in utter silence.
Our motley crew consisted of: an overly direct dutch girl, a mischievous german fellow, a serious russian man, a hilarious polish dude, and me, the token american — we were like a traveling United Nations circus.
My twenty hour flight, eight hour bus ride, and two hour hike that brought me here had all been worth it. This moment couldn’t have been any better. I wouldn’t have traded it for a million dollars.
But before the sun had completed it’s descent to the great beyond, I couldn’t help but think, “Cool, now what’s next?”
My mind was already consumed by thoughts of the delicious frog legs that awaited me at dinner, wondering what song I would (horribly) sing at the karaoke bar we would surely stumble into in the wee hours, and contemplating whether I should go to Vietnam or Cambodia after my travel visa expired.
Then, as if my foreign comrades could hear my thoughts in their heads, we all looked at each other and in unison said, “Cool, now what’s next?”
Literally less than twenty four hours ago, we sat cross-legged while meditating for hours on end with one goal in mind — to be more present.
Clearly we all needed a lot more practice.
No matter how perfect a moment may be, I always find myself wondering, “This is great and all, but what’s next?!”
I used to think this was a uniquely American affliction but the sunset experience proved it to be a universal issue.
I call this the curious curse of nexting.
My wife’s going to hate me for using her as another example, but I can’t help myself.
Every time we go out to a bar or restaurant with friends here in Austin something peculiar happens.
We’re having a blast stuffing our faces with succulent Texas barbecue, washing it down with some Lone Stars, enthralled in a great conversation.
But without fail, around the 45 minute mark, she stops us mid conversation and asks, “Where do we want to go next?”
Then it suddenly dawned on me — we get more enjoyment from anticipating what’s to come instead of what’s happening right now.
We’re addicted to novelty no matter how amazing the present moment may be.
That’s why I consider nexting a curse.
Morgan Housel, one of my favorite living writers, experienced the curious curse of nexting on a family trip to Hawaii.
While sitting on the back porch of his five star penthouse suite gazing upon the breathtaking ocean view, he caught himself thinking, “How great would it be if we could come back and do this again next year?”
He was already anticipating how amazing his next trip could be, instead of enjoying the trip he was on.
Humans are weird.
We’ve all heard that the key to happiness is to be grateful for the present moment, but that’s much easier said than done.
Humans are anticipation machines.
No matter how perfect the present moment may be, we can’t help but hope the next moment could be slightly more perfect.
I know what you’re thinking — great, now you’re gonna tell me to grab my gratitude journal and force myself to write down three things that I’m grateful for every day for the rest of my life.
Nope.
The curious curse of nexting is natural to you and me and everyone who has ever existed as well as those yet to come.
Instead of struggling to change our fundamental wiring, why not simply become aware that we are cursed by this nexting phenomenon? It’s a useful first step.
This goes against all the gratitude practices society keeps trying to shove down our throats. I don’t know about you, but I never keep this up for more than a day or two.
This may sound like a recipe for a miserable existence.
Never truly appreciating the now for what it is. Always wondering, what’s next?
Unfortunately, I don’t have a pithy one liner solution to offer you at this time.
I just find this nexting phenomenon fascinating. But let’s be careful not to next ourselves to death.
Want more proof?
Even as you’re reading these lines, the little voice inside your head is already thinking, “Cool, now what’s next?”
Your thoughts? Please leave a reply below.
And it seems as though the form of our anticipatory attention trends in the direction of imagining the best or the worst. As usual, another very useful frame from you for practicing self-awareness. Ok, well that was good. I can't wait to see what you write about next.
Enjoyed this.
Humans truly are anticipation machines.