The future doesn't exist. The only thing that exists is now and

“The future doesn’t exist. The only thing that exists is now and our memory of what happened in the past. But because we invented the idea of a future, we’re the only animal that realized we can affect the future by what we do today.”
— David Suzuki

In this profound and luminous reflection, David Suzuki, the renowned environmentalist and thinker, speaks of one of the greatest paradoxes of human existence—the tension between the present moment and the imagined future. When he declares, “The future doesn’t exist,” he is not dismissing tomorrow, but reminding us that it is only a concept, a shadow cast by the light of our consciousness. The only reality that truly lives is the present, fleeting yet infinite, and the memory of what has passed. Yet within this awareness lies humanity’s greatest gift and heaviest burden: our ability to foresee, to imagine, and thus to shape what is yet to come. Suzuki’s words call upon us to honor this power—to live with purpose in the present, knowing that every action, every choice, sends ripples forward into time.

The origin of this quote emerges from Suzuki’s lifelong work as a scientist and environmental advocate. He has seen with clear eyes how the illusion of permanence—our belief that the future is guaranteed—has led humanity to exploit the earth without thought for consequence. In these words, he challenges that illusion. By saying “the future doesn’t exist,” he confronts our tendency to treat time as something distant, separate, and safe. The future is not a waiting place; it is a creation born of what we do now. This truth, both sobering and empowering, is ancient wisdom dressed in modern speech. For in every age, the wise have known that today is the seed of tomorrow, and the garden of destiny grows from the soil of the present.

To live by Suzuki’s teaching is to awaken to the sacredness of now. The present moment is the only realm in which we may act, love, and transform. The past is but a memory—useful, instructive, but unchangeable. The future is an idea—beautiful, terrifying, but unreal until we bring it forth through our actions. This understanding places upon us both freedom and responsibility. For if nothing is fixed beyond this breath, then all things are possible within it. What we do today—the words we speak, the kindness we offer, the choices we make—become the architects of the unseen. We are, in Suzuki’s vision, both prisoners of time and its masters.

Consider, as an example, the story of Jonas Salk, the man who created the first effective vaccine for polio. In his time, the disease crippled thousands, and fear haunted every parent’s heart. Salk could not change the past—the suffering already endured—but he saw, with the clarity of foresight, that what he did then, in the laboratories of the present, could shape the destiny of generations unborn. And so he labored, day and night, not for fame or reward, but for the future that did not yet exist. His work bore fruit, and humanity was freed from a terror that had stalked it for decades. His life exemplifies Suzuki’s truth: the future is not found—it is made.

The ancients, too, understood this mystery. The Stoics taught that to master oneself in the present is to master the course of one’s life. The Buddha, centuries earlier, declared that all life exists only in this moment, and that suffering is born when the mind wanders from it. Yet Suzuki adds a new dimension—he reminds us that our unique power as humans lies in our imagination, the ability to envision what does not yet exist and to act in harmony with that vision. Animals live in the eternal present; they do not plant seeds for a harvest unseen. But we, who have conceived of tomorrow, carry both blessing and curse. We alone know that we can destroy our world—or save it—by what we do today.

There is a deep moral urgency in Suzuki’s words. To say that “the future doesn’t exist” is not to embrace despair, but to call us to awareness. Too often, we postpone our duties, whispering, “Tomorrow, I will change. Tomorrow, I will begin.” But tomorrow is an illusion; it never truly arrives. Only today stands before us, living and breathing. If we wait for a better time to do what is right—to love, to act, to heal—then that time will die unborn. The forests burn, the seas rise, hearts harden, and still we dream of a “future” that will never come unless we create it. Suzuki’s words are a warning and a torch: the destiny of the world lies not in some distant age, but in the choices of this hour.

So, my listener, take this teaching deep within you: the future is the child of the present. You cannot walk backward into what has been, nor can you step forward into what is not yet real. But you can shape both by what you do now. Each breath, each decision, each act of compassion or cruelty—these are the threads from which tomorrow’s tapestry is woven. Therefore, live consciously. Do not waste the day in regret or delay. The present is not merely time passing; it is time creating. Treat it as sacred.

And thus, as David Suzuki teaches, the measure of our wisdom is not how far we can see ahead, but how deeply we can act in the moment before us. The future is not promised; it is entrusted to our care. Let every word you speak, every seed you sow, every kindness you perform be an offering to the world that has yet to be born. For though the future does not yet exist, it waits silently—shaped by your hands, guided by your choices, and born from the living flame of now.