“You can plan for 100 years. But you don’t know what will happen in the next moment.” ~ Tibetan proverb
One day, it feels like a fog that I can’t shake. It is at the root of the fear that something underlying this is around the corner.
I’m trying to take responsibility. I prepare, make good choices and try to take care of things now. But under that effort, there are some difficulties to face. I feel helpless. You can’t control what’s coming. It scares me.
Maybe you felt this too – the tension between doing your best and fearing it isn’t enough. Worry becomes a habit. Just as you are rehearsing your stupid consequences in case they happen.
That’s when I turned to Buddhist teachings, I found myself. It is not precisely because of a different relationship with uncertainty.
What Buddhism taught us about the future
One of the first things I learned is that Buddhism is not being told to stop caring for the future. It teaches us to stop living within it.
Buddha spoke of suffering as a result of two core causes: craving (hoping that things go in a certain way) and dislike (pushing away what we don’t want). When I try to worry or predict everything, I do both – I grasp for control and resist what I’m afraid of.
But the future is always uncertain. That’s the part I don’t want to admit. I believed that if you worked hard enough and planned carefully enough, you could beat the risk. But I learned that worry is not preparation. It’s just suffering in advance. It doesn’t protect me. It just pulls me out of the life I actually live in.
True conflict: Planning vs. existence
This is the real tension I struggle with. And you might do that too. I believe in the power of existence. But I also know I have to plan.
As a filmmaker, planning is not an option. Without preparation, things fall apart. A well-structured plan not only prevents confusion, but also creates room for creativity. This allows you to focus, explore and respond at the moment without losing direction. That’s how planning is part of my art.
So when I first came across the teachings about letting go and trusting the moment, it felt contradictory. Can I live now and now when I need to think about my work and life first?
This was a real conflict. It was a push and pull between control and yield, between structure and flow. One is necessary to function in the world. The other is necessary to feel alive.
Reality lessons when letting go
A few years ago, I received a grant to make a 16mm documentary about Emmanuel Wood. Emmanuel Wood is a traditional Ozark fiddler with a rich musical heritage and a colorful presence. The project was blessed with high quality gear lined up, including Nagra 4.2 audio, film stock, and works. Emmanuel was enthusiastic. I was expecting it. The plan was solid.
It felt like everything was finally coming together.
But over the years I’ve learned something in the difficult way. Sometimes when you feel euphoria about your plan, it is also a signal. It’s a subtle warning that there may be something else in life.
Sure enough, Emmanuel unexpectedly passed away a few months before I was due to begin filming. That’s how no longer is the film that meticulously imagined, built support and shaped my year.
I was devastated. I couldn’t return the grant and I didn’t want to abandon the deeper spirit of the project. So I did what I didn’t expect: I remained and I listened.
I made another movie. Something new. There was honesty and grounded in the world Emmanuel represents. It was shaped by the same love for music, the same longing to maintain meaning, and it was left with the discomfort and uncertainty of not knowing what to do next.
The plan gave me structure. But existence and trust allowed the story to live on in a different way.
Central Pass: Flexible Preparation
I think about the lesson a lot. The same conflict occurs in many areas. The military is obsessed with the unpredictable things. Jazz musicians rehearse the scale for hours, but just let it go once the song starts.
There is no need to abandon your plan. You have to create space for improvisation.
This is how I came to understand the practical world of Buddhism paths. A plan is required. But clinging is optional.
Now I’m trying to plan how musicians will adjust their instruments. Be careful and prepare. It appears intentionally. But when the moment comes, play from the connection, not from the control.
What to help me now
I pause when my fear of the future rises recently. Breathe. I ask myself: Am I trying to control something I can’t? Can you act responsibly without being too tightly held? Can you easily trust this moment?
I’m still planning. I’m still responsible. But I’m not pretending to express uncertainty anymore. I’m trying to meet it with curiosity, flexibility and a little kindness towards myself.
Sometimes I repeat quietly:
It’s safe. Can we meet anything that comes with courage and care? Can I trust this moment?
It doesn’t solve everything. But it brings me back to the only place I actually have power: here.
There’s no need to give up on the plan. Stop taking out emotional insurance.
You can build a structure, take the next correct step, and still leave space for life to surprise you.
Make your plans useful in your life – not replacing it.
About Tony Collins
Tony Collins is a documentary filmmaker, educator and writer whose work explores creativity, caregiving and personal growth. He is the author of: Windows to the Sea. This is a moving collection of essays on love, loss and existence. Creative Scholarship – Guide for Educators and Artists is rethinking how creative work is valued. Tony writes to reflect on the important things and help others feel less lonely.
