I was a peripheral visionary. I could see the future, but only

In the realm of wisdom, there is a curious vision that comes not from the center, but from the periphery—a vision that peers not directly ahead, but far to the side, where the future lingers like a distant silhouette. Steven Wright’s words, “I was a peripheral visionary. I could see the future, but only way off to the side,” echo with a kind of paradox: a vision that is distant and unclear, yet undeniably present. The future, like the horizon, is always there, but we often perceive it from a sidelong glance, not straight on. This is the nature of life’s revelations—sometimes, they come not as a clear and direct path, but as a faint whisper from the corners of our awareness.

To speak of being a peripheral visionary is to acknowledge the human condition itself. We are often caught between the now and the not yet. We gaze upon the present with all its urgent demands and responsibilities, but it is the future that looms in the corner of our minds—a future unseen, one that beckons like a distant star. It is not always visible in sharp focus, yet it exists, a force that pulls us forward. Like the philosopher who peers into the mist, attempting to discern the shape of things to come, we are bound by the constraints of time and perception. We can sense the winds of change but cannot always predict their path.

There are those who have lived their lives as if they were destined to see only what is in front of them, focusing solely on the immediate moment, the tangible reality of now. But there are others, like Wright, who see beyond the immediate—they sense a world that others cannot see, a future that is not yet clear, but is always there, just beyond the reach of direct sight. This kind of vision may seem uncertain, for the future is not a thing we can fully grasp. It is as if we are witnesses to a dream, always just out of reach, yet undeniably powerful in its influence over our lives.

Consider the great explorers of history, who ventured into unknown lands, driven not by the certainty of what lay ahead, but by an unwavering belief in something beyond their immediate horizon. Christopher Columbus, though he did not know exactly where he would land, sensed the possibilities that lay in the uncharted waters. His was a peripheral vision, for he saw the future not directly, but in glimpses—the vast, unseen lands that lay just beyond the edge of known maps. They saw the future not as a certainty, but as an invitation—a beckoning to journey into the unknown. They ventured not because they knew exactly what awaited them, but because they knew that the future had to be pursued, even from a distance.

What, then, is the lesson to be learned? It is that we must embrace the idea of vision not as a sharp, clear picture of what is to come, but as a soft focus, a sense of direction. Often, we are not meant to know everything all at once. Life reveals itself gradually, and the future is often visible to us only in fragments, like stars scattered across a dark sky. Yet, these fragments are enough to guide us, to push us forward into the unknown, to give us the courage to take the next step, even when the road ahead is unclear.

The true lesson of Wright’s words lies in embracing uncertainty. To be a peripheral visionary is to accept that the future is often seen not as a sharply defined path, but as a blurry, peripheral glimpse that demands faith and courage. The future calls us not with the certainty of what it will bring, but with the invitation to move forward regardless. Our task is not to wait until the future is perfectly clear, but to continue onward, trusting that the direction is true, even if the path is obscured.

So, what actions should we take in our own lives? Dare to move in the direction that calls to you, even if the way is unclear. Let your peripheral vision guide you—trust in the whispers of the future, and take the first steps, even when you cannot see the entire road ahead. Just as Columbus sailed into the unknown, or as the philosopher seeks wisdom from the shadows, we too must embrace the unknown with courage, for the future is always present, even in the most uncertain forms. Vision, in its truest sense, is not about certainty—it is about moving forward in trust, guided by the sense that the future is always just out of sight, waiting to be discovered.