Visionary Thinking and the Courage to Look a Century Ahead

Curiosity as the First Act of Vision

I was born and raised as a young Acadian woman in a small rural community in New Brunswick. Like many who grow up in close-knit environments, my early exposure to diversity—of cultures, perspectives, and lived realities—was limited. My schooling reflected that context. Indigenous peoples, for example, were primarily discussed through limited historical framing, rather than through sustained engagement with contemporary Indigenous voices, cultures, and lived realities.

And yet, from a very young age, I carried a persistent curiosity about the world beyond what I could see. My parents will likely remember this well. Road trips were frequently accompanied by my incessant questions—simple on the surface, yet reflective of a deeper curiosity about the world around me: Why is the moon following us? Is the cow happy? These endless inquiries eventually led to the invention of the “silence game,” often before we reached our destination.

That curiosity never faded.

At fifteen, I moved to Moncton—not out of necessity, but to experience another city, another way of being. At sixteen, I spent nearly a year in Costa Rica. At nineteen, I participated in a Canada World Youth exchange that took me from Sudbury to India. Had I made my Grade 12 yearbook deadline, my stated ambition would have been to travel the world by the age of twenty-seven. Around the world in eighty days felt both romantic and wildly unrealistic at the time—beyond my means, if not my imagination.

Those early years reveal something that feels clearer in hindsight: a natural openness to difference, a comfort with questioning norms, and an idealism about what the world might become. This way of thinking was not something explicitly taught to me by institutions, nor was it deliberately passed down. In truth, it often placed me on the margins. In small communities, curiosity can be mistaken for restlessness, and vision for non-conformity.

Which led me, early on, to a quiet but persistent inquiry: where does visionary thinking come from—and can it be cultivated?

Connecting the Dots in a Rapidly Changing World

This question is not theoretical for me. It became deeply personal as I began challenging my own province—and, more broadly, Atlantic Canada—to think beyond short-term cycles and immediate constraints. What might our systems look like in one hundred years? What assumptions would need to be unlearned? What structures would need to evolve?

I am among those who believe that visionary thinking can be cultivated. That belief is the reason I return to this subject again and again. It is not about predicting the future, but about preparing for complexity.

My more intentional exploration of long-term thinking began after attending the 4Front Conference in Halifax, where Dominic Barton spoke about the profound transformations unfolding across Asia. What struck me was not only the speed of change he described, but the depth of foresight underpinning it. Societies planning in generations, not election cycles.

That moment sparked a deeper inquiry. I began observing places where long-term thinking was embedded in public discourse and policy. Countries such as India and China emerged quickly—societies operating with multi-decade, even multi-century horizons. Closer to home, I noticed municipalities like Moncton articulating forty-year visions. Later, I encountered North Vancouver’s one-hundred-year sustainability framework—an exercise grounded in scenario planning, emerging risks, and long-term opportunity.

What these approaches share is not certainty, but intentionality. They resemble living SWOT analyses for society itself—designed not to fix the future, but to remain agile in the face of change.

I experienced similar frameworks through national foresight exercises in Canada, including a session that asked participants from multiple sectors to envision the country in 2040, as well as a Delphi-style process facilitated through the Department of Justice. What made these exercises effective was structure. Participants were guided to examine trends, interdependencies, and potential disruptions—moving beyond siloed thinking toward systems awareness.

And that, I believe, is the heart of visionary thinking: the ability to connect the dots.

The world is evolving rapidly—technologically, socially, environmentally—and these shifts do not respect borders. I often hear people express a desire to focus exclusively on “local” causes, as though local and global were still separable. Supporting community-based initiatives matters deeply; I have built and led many myself. But the meaning of local has changed. Decisions made continents away now shape daily life at home.

Visionary thinking does not abandon place. It situates it—consciously—within a larger, interconnected system.

Choosing Long Horizons for the Places We Call Home

Atlantic Canada has made meaningful progress in recent years, particularly in strengthening its entrepreneurial ecosystem and earning recognition beyond its borders. And yet, I remain hopeful for more. More ambition. More experimentation. More courage to explore ideas once dismissed as impractical or premature—whether in renewable energy, alternative economic models, or policies designed to prioritize dignity and long-term resilience.

What I long for is not perfection, but possibility.

I would love to see our region known not by what it lacks, but by what it imagines. A place defined by creativity, foresight, and the courage to think ahead. A place that treats visionary thinking not as a rare personality trait, but as a collective responsibility.

Looking a century ahead is not an exercise in prediction; it is an act of care. It asks us to slow down, widen our perspective, and acknowledge that the choices we make today will reverberate well beyond our own lifetimes. Visionary thinking begins when we see ourselves not as isolated actors, but as stewards—of place, of systems, and of possibility.

To think long-term is not to turn away from home, but to deepen our commitment to it. It is a way of holding belonging and responsibility at the same time—caring for what exists now while making space for what must still emerge. When visionary thinking becomes a shared practice rather than an exception, places like Atlantic Canada gain the freedom to redefine themselves with intention rather than urgency.

This way of seeing does not require certainty, nor does it belong to a select few. It grows from curiosity, strengthens through connection, and matures when we accept responsibility for what comes next. Practiced patiently and collectively, visionary thinking becomes less about ambition and more about integrity—quietly shaping a future that is not imposed upon us, but consciously carried forward.