Wednesday, June 11, 2014 at 11:24AM
Dear Long Ago Me,
Well, I hardly know where to start. I have been stewing about writing this, losing sleep wondering what to say to you.
I guess, from my crystal ball vantage point almost 50 years in the future, I could tell you what you have in store for your life. Most of it would please you, a lot of it would bore you, some of it would horrify you. All of it would seem like a daydream to you now, and you don't need any more daydreams. So, I could share your future with you but I won’t.
On the other hand, I could give you all kinds of sage advice, admonishing caveats, heads up about how the world works, lists of thing to do and things not to do. Yes, I am tempted to do that. But I won’t. You know why? I realize that everything I learned of value in the last five decades was not a new learning but a remembering of something it seemed I had long forgotten. I think babies must come to this world remembering everything with no words necessary and they laugh and cry because they are completely astonished at how ridiculous adults can be and how relentlessly insane the world can be. You are here less than two decades but human life, as it tends to do, has already dumped a considerable amount of pain and neuroses on you. This has dulled and obscured your view of the Truth but the good news is it is always there, waiting in its eternal expectant radiance, ready to be seen. So I have no worries for you. You are solid, you have everything you need. To give you advice would be an affront to the beauty of what you already are, what you always have been and what you always will be.
Just keep going, kiddo. From your future I have your back. From your past I have your back. From the unfathomable reaches of time and space and all mystery I have your back. All time is your time. And all you have to do is live it one moment at a time.
Sixty-five Year Old Me
p.s. Funny, I now seem to remember receiving this message when I was your age so I am comforted to know you received it. Isn't “time” the strangest thing?