It’s Not "Today" That Determines the Future, But Every Single "Present Moment"
We have all fallen into a common illusion: believing that if we plan the future perfectly today, the future will unfold exactly according to that plan, step by step.
Take 2023, for example. I created a detailed "perfect plan" for myself: pass an advanced English proficiency test (CET-6), read extracurricular books, exercise for 30 minutes every single day rain or shine, and systematically learn Python.
Standing here in 2025 and looking back, however, I realize that what truly ingrained these pursuits into my being wasn't that grand initial plan, but countless tiny, concrete "present moments" over the past two years.
Consider the English test. Theoretically, I should be sitting in an exam hall right now, scribbling furiously for that certificate. However, after weighing my options, I chose to sit here and type these words instead. Back then, I believed passing that test was the most crucial part of English learning. But as I became accustomed to reading technical documentation in English and acquiring first-hand information directly in my daily life, I realized something: When English has already become a tool for me to acquire knowledge, why should I regress and torture myself just to meet the requirements of someone else's exam?
This sparked a question about the true nature of planning: Do we really make plans just for the sake of "completing" them?
Reflecting on the past, the answer is no. A plan is essentially just a prediction of the future based on our "present understanding." We aspire to become a certain type of person, so we chart a path. But the biggest misconception most people hold (my past self included) is treating that prediction as a rigid mandate that must be executed—attempting to force a static plan onto a dynamic life.
Take my experience learning Python as an example. In 2023, believing that "paying money" equaled "investing in myself," I spent over 2,000 RMB on a course. The result? I remained stuck at the beginner stage, constantly battling procrastination. Back then, I didn't even understand how to configure the Python environment. It wasn't until I switched to a Mac this year that I realized Windows environment configuration is indeed complex enough to discourage any beginner; not understanding it back then was entirely excusable.
But that wasn't the end of the story. The real turning point wasn't completing a specific course, but the emergence of AI. I discovered I no longer needed to manually type code line by line; instead, I could build projects through an AI Assistant. In this process, the syntax and logic that once gave me headaches were naturally acquired through constant debugging and project construction. This was a variable I could never have predicted when making my original plan, yet it was precisely this variable that allowed me to truly master the skill.
The significance of a plan lies in providing an initial vector for our current actions, not in locking down a final destination.
As time passes and insights accumulate, we must learn "Dynamic Adjustment." When creating a plan, we can only base it on what is controllable at that time; however, the environment is uncontrollable, and life circumstances are fluid (such as transitioning from a student to a clinical intern).
If you find that an original goal (like passing the English test) no longer serves your actual needs (like acquiring information), yet you persist anyway, that is not perseverance; it is rigidity. Once the true purpose behind the plan is clear, the means to achieve it become flexible—you can learn English by doing test exercises, or you can certainly learn by reading various literature that interests you.
More important than "completing the plan" is "building habits."
Do not attempt to precisely predict results, and do not be held hostage by quantitative metrics (like "read one book per week"). I certainly didn't complete my reading plan from back then, but I developed a reading habit, having read over 100 books in two years. My exercise plan didn't meet its target either; I went from rigid daily running to my current routine of walking. The form changed, but the habit of "moving" remained.
For someone undergoing a high-intensity internship, sticking to the rigid plans of student days is unrealistic. Plans serve people; people are dynamic. There is nothing to regret about not following the plan, as long as core habits are still supporting your life.
Finally, if you want to change the future, the only thing you can grasp is this very moment.
If you want to travel, go now, even if it's on impulse. Because after a while, you will find that state of mind has vanished. You might end up like me right now, just wanting to stay home in front of the computer chatting with LLMs.
If you want to learn a skill, start now. It doesn't matter if you master it or if you give up halfway. What matters is that you satisfied your current curiosity.
In this era of exploding AI technology, curiosity is your last line of defense against mediocrity and boredom. Without that initial spark of curiosity about programming back then, I might not even know what VS Code is today, let alone call APIs myself or hand-code learning assistants. Those tinkerings that seemed useless and boring at the time will ultimately be exponentially magnified by the empowerment of tools.
The scariest thing isn't lacking tools; it's having the tools right in front of you but being unable to muster any interest in exploring them.
When you try enough things, you will eventually find the one or two things that you find truly interesting and are willing to keep doing. That will be the source of joy in your life, and also your future defensive moat.
As Naval Ravikant said: "If you don't commit to your meaningful work, life will fill your time with busywork."
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