By Roshan Jayasinghe
We are a species that lives in two places at once. Our feet stay on the ground, but our minds keep walking ahead. We build pictures of what life could become, and those pictures can feel like hope. But if we are honest, those same pictures can also become a hiding place. That is the tension this piece is trying to hold.
If we could step back and watch the human race for a moment, one thing would stand out. Imagination is always moving ahead of us. A person can be sitting at a red light, hands on the wheel, nothing dramatic happening, and still the mind is already somewhere else. A different body. A different relationship. A different home. A different level of money. A different kind of peace. Nothing has moved on the outside. Everything has moved on the inside. That is imagination. It arrives quietly. It does not ask permission. It simply presents a future, a version of life that feels cleaner, calmer, stronger, safer, more whole. So the question is not whether imagination exists. The real question is what we do with it.
If we watch ourselves honestly, we start to see two sides of imagination. Sometimes it lifts us. Sometimes it guides us. Other times it comforts us in a way that delays us. It can become hope, and it can become escape. It can become direction, and it can become a soft place called later. Later we will be healthier. Later we will be calmer. Later we will repair the relationship. Later we will fix the money. Later we will become wiser. Later things will settle. From a distance, later sounds harmless. Even responsible. But later has a cost. It quietly takes the present away. And when later becomes a place we live in, years can disappear without much changing. So another question appears, and it is a serious one. Is imagination helping us move, or is it helping us delay.
When we observe ourselves closely, one pattern repeats so often it almost looks like a rule of nature. The future we want does not arrive because we imagined it clearly. It arrives when we begin practicing the life that matches it. We do not have to be fully certain about this to see it. We only have to look. Look at the body. People imagine being lean and strong. Better posture. More energy. Confidence. That picture can be vivid. It can feel emotional. But the body responds to repetition, not promises. If movement is practiced, the body shifts. If excuses are practiced, the body stays. If tomorrow is practiced, tomorrow becomes the routine. Look at relationships. People imagine being calm, mature, steady. The kind of partner who listens. The kind of parent who stays present. The kind of person who repairs quickly. But relationships respond to repeated behavior, not good intentions. If listening is practiced, trust grows. If blaming is practiced, distance grows. If silence is practiced, closeness fades. If repair is practiced, safety returns. Look at money. Not in a moral way. In a practical way. If awareness and discipline are practiced, stability grows. If avoidance is practiced, stress grows. So we keep coming back to the same quiet conclusion. What we repeat becomes our normal. And our normal becomes our life.
There is another scene we all recognize, and it happens in homes everywhere. A person falls in love with the idea of playing music. They watch someone play piano, or guitar, or even sing, and something opens inside. They can almost feel themselves doing it. They picture the confidence, the calm, the beauty of it. They may even buy the instrument. They place it carefully in the corner of the room. It looks good there. It feels like a promise. And for a while, just seeing it makes them feel closer to that future. But months pass. Then years. The instrument stays mostly untouched, not because they are lazy, but because imagination alone does not create skill. Then someone else comes along, maybe a child, maybe a friend, and they do something simple. They practice ten minutes a day. Not perfect. Not heroic. Just steady. Over time, the difference becomes obvious. The first person had a strong picture. The second person had repetition. And repetition is what turns a picture into a reality.
If we zoom out from the individual and look at society, we see the same thing. Our societies are full of imagination. Politics, especially, runs on it. It speaks in futures. Later the nation will be safe. Later the economy will stabilize. Later corruption will end. Later the right people will win. Later life will return to how it should be. Being human, we get pulled into these future pictures. We feel involved. We feel certain. We feel strong. We feel like we are participating. But when we return to daily reality, another truth is waiting. A society is not built by slogans. A society is built by millions of daily lives stacked together. How people speak. How they handle pressure. How they treat strangers. How they treat their own families. What they tolerate. What they repair. What they practice. And there is another layer we seem to be waking up to. It is not only our actions that train us. Our attention trains us too. What we feed our mind every day becomes the tone of our inner life. If we practice outrage, we become quicker to react. If we practice blame, we become quicker to judge. If we practice fear, we begin to live as if danger is everywhere. So the question returns again, now bigger than the individual. If we want a better world, what are we practicing as a world. Because the world we live in tomorrow is being rehearsed today.
So what seems to be the right path here. Not a perfect path. Just the path that appears to work when we actually test it. When imagination shows up, when that future picture appears, the simplest move is to bring it down into today. One question does that better than almost anything else. If this future is real, what is the next right step today. Not the heroic step. Not the step that impresses people. The next honest step. And most of the time, it is simple. Drink water instead of feeding a craving. Take the walk instead of the excuse. Train instead of waiting to feel ready. Send the message. Make the call. Do the repair. Set the boundary without cruelty. Pay the bill instead of pretending it will handle itself. Step away from the noise that keeps the mind addicted to outrage. Read, learn, build, quietly. This is not a motivational speech. It is closer to a human discovery. When the next right step becomes a habit, imagination stops being a place to hide. It becomes direction.
When practice starts, even small, something returns that many people quietly miss. Self trust. Motivation rises and falls. That is normal. Self trust grows when a person keeps showing up, when small promises are kept. Reps in health. Reps in restraint. Reps in honesty. Reps in repair. Reps in responsibility. This is why imagination without practice often becomes painful over time. It keeps pointing to a life we want, while we keep rehearsing something else. But when practice begins, the gap shrinks. And the future stops feeling like a fantasy and starts feeling like a path.
So perhaps the human race does not need more imagination. We already imagine constantly. Maybe what we need is a better relationship with imagination. To let it point, but not let it replace living. To let it show the future, but not let it steal the present. Because what we keep learning, again and again, is simple. We become what we practice. So imagine, yes. But bring it down into today. Let the hands move. Let the feet follow. Let the day match the direction. And keep practicing, quietly and steadily. And if you keep doing that, something shifts quietly. The life you used to only think about starts to show up in small ways. Not all at once, not perfectly, but steadily. One day you look back and realize you are not just imagining it anymore. You are living it.
Author’s Note
This is written as an observation, not a verdict. It is what seems to be true when we watch ourselves honestly, both personally and as a society. And I am not writing this from a place of being above it. I am inside it, the same as anyone reading. I have imagined, I have delayed, I have lived in later. I have also seen what changes when I practice. By seeing this more clearly, I am trying to align myself to it too. To use imagination as direction, not escape. To bring it down into practice, one step at a time, so what I picture is actually what I live. If I can leave one simple reminder to hold while reading and while living, it would be this. A future is not built by a strong picture. A future is built by what we repeat today.
About the Author
Roshan Jayasinghe is a writer and observer of human systems. His work explores the gap between man made constructs and lived humanity, with a focus on how economics, trade and everyday choices intersect with questions of fairness, responsibility and inner alignment. Through essays for publications in The Morning Telegraph, he aims to remind readers that they are not passengers in a fixed machine, but active custodians of a shared world.
