Hey. Hey kiddo.
It’s April 12, 2021, and — assuming the Internet hasn’t been regulated & blockaded by neo-fascist dictators or robot overlords — you should be receiving this message, courtesy of FutureMe.org.
You’re 36 years old. How’s that fake tooth holding up? And the Lasik vision correction surgery? Did it fade, the way you always suspected it would? Even if you’re toothless and bespectacled, you’re probably still pretty cute. Maybe even beautiful. I hope you remembered to moisturize, throughout your voltaic twenties.
If everything went according to plan, you oughta be opening your balcony windows onto the shimmering canals of Venice … Venice Beach, Los Angeles, that is. Of course, things rarely go according to plan, so you’re just as likely to be rooted in Glasgow. Or Melbourne. Or Tokyo. Or maybe, through some peculiar spiral of fate, you’re back in Minneapolis, scraping ice crystals off your (flying) car windshield.
I hope, wherever you are, that you’re head-over-heels in love …
:: with yourself
:: with your work
:: and with another human being (one who possesses a comparable level of vim, vigor & high-voltage charm. Or at least, really great hair.)
OK, now for a flurry of checkpoint questions: how have you left a radiant imprint on the world, over the past ten years? How do you practice gratitude, every day? What do you need to stop doing, immediately? What needs to be softened, absolved, released, forgiven? What energizes you, like nothing else? What are you fighting for? Who are you (still) trying to impress?*
*Note: if you have already attained enlightenment by this point in time, please disregard the previous queries and feel free to return to your meditative trance.
In all seriousness? Here’s a thought. What if you blew off whatever you’ve got planned today (zero-gravity Pilates class … hologram consultation session with a client … retro 2-D movie night …) and just bought a spontaneous ticket to Somewhere. Could be a museum. Could be another city. Just pack light, make no apologies, and GO. Spend the next 24 hours — or 24 years — playing with notions of responsibility, commitment, obligation — and legacy.
You’re in the final two-thirds, kiddo. What do you want to be known for? Revered for? Remembered for?
Everything is permeable. And whatever you’re feeling right now — welling up in your tear ducts, or tightening across your upper back — you can convert that emotion into energy . Electricity. Forward momentum. It’s not too late to become the person you dreamed you’d be, ten years ago. And it’s not too late to dismantle and obliterate the old dream, entirely.
Oh, and Future Self? One more thing: I love you. I love you so much, I’m scheduling this message a decade in advance, to make sure you remember.
Guess I oughta schedule another message, for ten years from today. Or maybe five. They say time accelerates as you get older.
Peace out, Disco Monk.
Stay groovy …
Got a missive? On a mission?
Post a Time Capsule To Your Future Self on your personal blog, and drop a link in the comments. Then, use FutureMe.org to deliver the post to yourself — at a predetermined point in the far-flung future. Those robots, man — they’ve got it covered.