As a child, I was fascinated by visions of the future.
I remember an old black-and-white movie from the 1930s that pictured flying cars by 1980. Well, it’s 2025… where’s my flying car?
Back to the Future promised hoverboards by 2015. And then there was Star Trek — humans flying off into the stars.
But it was never just about flying. Those stories weren’t only about technology — they were about possibility. About imagining a world bigger, bolder, and more connected than the one we had.
Star Trek had a profound influence on me. Humans working together across nationality, race, and gender. Yes, a white American man from Iowa was in command — but still, the world felt wider than the one I saw around me.
As the series went on, captains became more diverse, crews more varied. Former enemies became colleagues. Differences weren’t erased; they were negotiated. Big differences — like how a species received energy, how they rested, how they mated.
Underneath it all, one truth kept coming through: we are more alike than we are different. Surface differences only matter if we choose to make them matter — if we choose to let them divide us. Discrimination is a choice. And we can choose differently. We can draw our circle wide.
That’s from a hymn I love: Draw the circle wide, draw it wider still. Let this be our song: no one stands alone. Standing side by side — draw the circle wide. (1)
Growing up, I thought the United States worked the same way. In my lifetime, I saw the circle grow wider — women leading corporations and winning high political office, people from many ethnic backgrounds rising in science, art, sports, and government.
I believed — truly believed — that widening the circle was inevitable. That with time and familiarity, doors would open for those long overlooked. Time would open minds and open hearts — leading to an egalitarian world where everyone could use their gifts for the greater good. Maybe not in my lifetime, but someday.
Yet in recent years, the forces pushing for a smaller world seem to have taken over. That glorious future feels farther away as the circle of inclusion narrows. The list of who gets included, who gets a voice — keeps shrinking.
It’s like a wedding guest list after the caterer doubles the price per person: people start getting crossed off.
We’re watching diversity programs get dismantled. We’re seeing laws target LGBTQ+ people, especially trans youth. We’re watching book bans strip shelves of voices that don’t fit a certain mold. Voting rights are chipped away, making it harder for some communities to be heard at all.
And here’s the thing — these aren’t just political battles over “issues.” They’re fights over the very boundaries of our shared imagination.
When you silence voices, when you erase perspectives, you shrink the field of possibility. It’s like taking the entire Star Trek galaxy and collapsing it into a single, gated neighborhood with manicured lawns and strict rules about paint colors — a place where only certain people are allowed through the gate.
But when we draw the circle wide, the possibilities multiply.
A child in a rural town, whose school finally gets the funding it needs, might one day design a renewable energy system that powers entire communities.
A refugee welcomed into safety could become the doctor who develops a breakthrough cancer treatment — or the teacher who ignites a love of learning in hundreds of children.
An artist from a culture you’ve never heard of could create a piece that shifts how we see the world — opening hearts in a way no policy ever could.
Innovation, compassion, resilience — they all grow when more people bring their full selves to the table.
When we narrow the circle those voices are silenced before they ever get the chance to speak. Those solutions never leave the page. That beauty never reaches our eyes.
The future we were promised — or maybe the future we promised ourselves — isn’t guaranteed.
I get it — change is uncomfortable. Inclusion is hard.
Widening the circle means admitting we don’t have all the answers. It means making room for people who will challenge the way we’ve always done things. And for those who’ve historically had the power — it means letting go of control.
Fear creeps in — fear of losing something, fear of the unfamiliar, fear that maybe we’re the ones who’ll be left out.
Even in Star Trek, unity didn’t just happen. The crew had to work through mistrust and misunderstanding. They had to navigate real conflict before solving the problem in front of them.
The same is true for us. The future we want won’t arrive if we just wait. It has to be built — and building it takes courage.
And here’s where it gets real: courage right now isn’t only about speaking out — though that matters.
It’s also about holding onto hope when cynicism feels like the reasonable choice.
It’s refusing to shrink your vision of who belongs — even when leaders tell you to.
Courage looks like listening to someone whose life experience is nothing like yours. It’s defending people under attack even when it costs you something. It’s choosing leaders and policies that draw the circle wide — not just for people like you, but for people you’ll never meet.
And courage is contagious. When you dare to imagine a bigger, more inclusive future, you give others permission to imagine it too.
The future isn’t a conveyor belt carrying us forward no matter what we do.
It’s a choice we make — every single day.
Flying cars may never arrive. Warp drive may be a fantasy. But the wider circle is possible. We don’t have to break the laws of physics to achieve it — only open our hearts.
If you want that future of inclusion and possibility, start here. Start now. Draw the circle wide where you are. Notice who’s missing. Notice who’s silenced. Notice who’s been pushed to the margins — and invite them in.
The real measure of progress isn’t the technology we build, but how we care for everyone on this planet — with food, education, clean water, and shelter.
The real measure of progress is growing more love.
Joni Miller, Ph.D., is a writer, researcher, spiritual coach, and speaker who uses her knowledge, education, and love of all things spiritual to help spiritual wanderers find a place they can call home, navigating by the light of Love.www.SpiritualGeography.net
(1) “Draw the Circle Wide” Lyrics by Gordon Light, Music arranged by Mark A Miller
Image by upklyak: Spaceship flying above planet surface at night. For more see upklyak
