Falling in Love With the Future: Reflections from Our Time-Travel Event

What does it mean to imagine a future worth fighting for, in the midst of climate breakdown, widening inequality and political instability? For many of us working for climate justice, the urgency of the moment can leave little space to pause, let alone to dream. Yet without shared visions of where we are trying to go, it becomes harder to sustain hope, build collective power and invite more people into the movement.

This question was the starting point for our recent event: a collective experiment in imagining futures shaped not only by what we must resist, but by what we long to build. Drawing inspiration from Rob Hopkins’ How to Fall in Love with the Future, we came together to explore how imagination, storytelling and “time travel” can help unlock new energy for climate action and remind us that another future is not only necessary, but possible. 

The evening at the Teacher’s Club in Dublin brought together a guided time-travel exercise and panel discussion with Eric Ward and Dr. Eoin Galavan. In a political landscape often dominated by fear and fatalism, the event offered a different approach: a chance to practise imagining a future worth fighting for. It was about creating a space where climate action is defined not only by what we oppose, but by what we stand for. Above all, it was an invitation to look beyond the pressures of the present and to remember that the future is not fixed; it is something we can actively shape.

Hopkins explains why this matters deeply in this book:

Only a compelling vision of a less frightening and insecure future will recruit anyone to a progressive or revolutionary alternative future - or rouse apolitical citizens for the project of making that future. This vision must be embodied in seductive and exciting leadership and movements, hopefully oriented by an ethic of responsibility.

(p.22 from his book How to Fall in Love with the Future: A Time Traveller's Guide to Changing the World)

Time travel as a tool for rethinking the future

At the heart of the event was a guided time-travelling exercise, an opportunity to step into a future, a version of the future if we did everything we could have possibly done. This was done by a guided mediation, where people were asked to “walk” around the year 2035. This wasn’t about escapism. It was about creating what Hopkins calls “memories of the future”.

The creation of positive future visions inspires us to set goals (whether consciously or unconsciously) and generates anticipated positive emotion, which in turn increases the likelihood of our initiating the kind of behaviour needed to make it a reality….One of the reasons why mental simulations of the future matter so much - is that it becomes not only a future visioning process but a memory tucked away and encoded in our long-term storage, these are ‘memories of the future’.

(pp.35–36)

This matters because so much climate storytelling has been dominated by dystopia. While grief, anger and loss are real and must be acknowledged, they cannot be the only stories we tell. If they are, we risk narrowing imagination, and with it, the sense of what is possible. In our society, we often assume that negative thinking is realistic and that positive thinking is overly idealistic. In reality, there is a more realistic perspective that lies beyond both. It is about looking at the full picture, both the challenges and the possibilities.

Time travel, as Hopkins frames it, is not a fantasy exercise. It is a way of loosening the grip of the present, which so often tells us that transformation is impossible, too slow, or unrealistic. During this exercise, Hopkins and many at the event present noted that many people tend to describe futures that are greener, quieter and more human, with fewer cars, more trees, more meaningful work, less stress, louder birdsong and stronger communities. So what’s missing is not public support for change, but a narrative people can run towards:

Another key insight from the event was the power of looking at what is already possible in the world. As Rob Hopkins reminds us:

The world is full of examples of things that we are told are impossible but that actually exist and function perfectly well.

(p.67)

Too often, we assume that large-scale, transformative change is beyond our reach, or that the solutions we need are purely theoretical. Yet all around us, there are communities, projects, and initiatives proving that radically different ways of living are achievable today, from energy systems run by local people, to cities redesigning streets for people rather than cars, to social enterprises tackling inequality and environmental harm in tandem. By paying attention to these existing examples, we are not only inspired, but also reminded that change is not abstract or distant, but it is tangible, practical, and replicable. Seeing what works elsewhere opens our imagination, gives us models to adapt locally, and reinforces the sense that the “impossible” is often simply “not yet” tried.

Reflections from the panel: grounding hope in lived reality

The event also included a panel discussion exploring how we connect future visions to real-world organising. We were joined by Eric Ward, a US civil rights strategist and cultural activist with decades of experience working at the intersection of racial justice, democracy and culture, and Dr. Eoin Galavan, a Clinical Director of Kyrie Therapeutic Farm and a Senior Clinical and Counselling Psychologist with the HSE’s North Dublin Adult Mental Health Services. He is a founding member of the Psychological Society of Ireland’s Special Interest Group on the Climate and Environmental Emergency and an active member of Irish Doctors for the Environment. Unfortunately, one panellist, Faten Alsourani was unable to join us on the night Faten is a Palestinian lawyer and human rights advocate from Gaza, now based in Ireland, working with Trócaire and Front Line Defenders on justice, climate justice, and the protection of human rights defenders in Gaza. We hope that we get to work with her in the future. 

Both of the other speakers began highlighting that the time-travel exercise permits us to step beyond the limits of what we are conditioned to believe, or even afraid to imagine, about the future. In the midst of grief, anger, and fear, it can feel impossible to see a world different from the one we are currently struggling in. Yet by allowing ourselves, even for just a moment, to envision how life could be -  a future that is fairer, greener, and more caring - we open up our creativity and imagination. This brief glimpse of possibility doesn’t erase the challenges we face, but it gives us the courage and clarity to take the next step, rather than being paralysed by the weight of the present. In this way, imagining a better future becomes not a luxury, but an essential act of liberation and empowerment.

A key element while reflecting on the experience, was acknowledging where we are now, emotionally as well as politically. Eoin reflected:

With the hard task of what is, we don't binarise this with the anger and injustice with the grief. That those things are deeply legitimate too… I don't think we can have a realistic imagining of the future if we don't visit those things as part of that. So I need to know why my heart is breaking.

Imagining better futures doesn’t mean bypassing pain, denial, or despair. It means holding the complexity of our present moment, recognising both the grief and the hope, and allowing ourselves to feel the full weight of what is at stake. Acknowledging the brokenness in the world, systemic injustices, environmental devastation, and social inequities lends depth and authenticity to our future-oriented work. It allows us to move through pain rather than be immobilised by it, and ensures that the futures we envision are rooted not in escapism, but in the realities we seek to transform. By facing the heartbreak and the anger together, we can connect more fully to the hope and possibility of positive change, making our shared visions not only inspiring but deeply grounded and actionable.

The steps to include people in this vision of the future, is how we communicate and make sure it is rooted in social justice.  Eoin explained that in a way people don’t “care” about climate as they care about rather they can feed their kids, can they leave their homes, how stressed and worried are they in their lives, this is all interlinked with the climate crisis, however, it is not obvious to many. It is important to connect with people on a social justice level or else it might never grab people as much. What came through most strongly was this: everyone wants a good life. People want safety, dignity, connection and hope for their families and communities. Climate justice must speak to that, not as an abstract moral imperative, but as a shared project rooted in care, solidarity and belonging.

Both of the speakers continued speaking on how to motivate people and how to build the climate movement: 

Eoin said: 

Connecting with people's values and connecting with people's real life struggles is the door into bringing climate solutions….[for example] you don't talk about selling them solar as a renewable energy but the freedom to generate your own power off grid…that’s a different narrative for a different value base for a different group of people that meets them with something that's tangible.

Eric reinforced this by saying: 

Because it is important to us, we assume it is important to others. We impose our love for those things [political, environmental and economic theory] and place a value on it. And because it is important to us, we assume it must then be important for anyone else. And we lose people because that is not the world they function in. Most people want to spend time with their families. They just want a good job [and a comfortable life]. That is all they care about. And if we disregard that or treat that as unimportant in the first step ofreaching them, we have already lost them in the fight.

The panel highlighted how narratives must speak to people’s values, cultures and lived struggles, whether that’s housing security, energy bills, or the desire for control over one’s own life. 

This is also connected to a deeper conversation about power, consent, and historical injustice. As Eric reminded us, systems of control and exclusion shape not only the resources and opportunities available to people today, but also who gets to imagine the future and who is systematically written out of it. The legacies of colonisation, racism, and economic inequality mean that certain voices are amplified while others are ignored, and that the very act of envisioning a better world is often treated as a privilege rather than a right. Any serious future-facing climate movement must confront these realities head-on, recognising that justice in the present is inseparable from the futures we seek to build. This means actively centring the knowledge, creativity, and leadership of those who have historically been marginalised, listening to their experiences, and ensuring that their visions of the future shape the collective story we tell. Only by doing so can climate action be truly inclusive, equitable, and capable of inspiring widespread participation.

As Hopkins puts it:

We need to support people to fall in love with the future as well as support them to make it a reality.

(p.88)

At a moment when it can feel as though the present is closing in on us from all sides, this event was a reminder that the future is not something that simply happens to us, it is something we actively create. By making space to imagine, to grieve, to hope and to listen, we began to loosen the hold of “what is” and reconnect with “what could be”. The time-travel exercise, the panel discussion and the conversations in the room all pointed to the same thing: people are not motivated by fear alone, but by the possibility of a good life, one rooted in justice, community and care. If we are serious about building the scale of change this moment demands, we must tell stories that are inclusive, grounded in everyday realities, and bold enough to inspire action. Falling in love with the future is not a distraction from the work ahead; it is what gives that work direction, energy and meaning. The task now is to carry those shared visions back into the present, and to organise together and to make them real.

The future isn’t fixed. It’s something we make together. If you weren’t at the event, I encourage you to do your own time travel exercise. There is a great video by Rob Hopkins to help you. 

Just like at the event, I want to leave you with this poem written by Dublin Friends of the Earth committee member, Mark George called “A Vision of 2050.”

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Blog by Ruth Jedidja Stael, Supporter Care and Fundraising Officer 

Photos by Charlotta Kauranne, Head of Finance and Compliance