Letters across time

Have you ever written a letter to your future self? I tried it when I was 17, and tucked it away in my diary for ten years. When it was time to open it, I was terrified. I well remembered the tremendous spirit of hope and optimism I had written it in, confident that my future would be bright and beautiful. Pausing to tear open the envelope, I could only tremble knowing so few of my plans had come to fruition.

My next encounter with future letters was just before I turned 30, when I was on a school camp watching 200 Year 12 students lie on an auditorium floor and scribble out letters due to be mailed to back to them twelve months later. Lovely, I thought, watching them write out their hopes and dreams, the secret thoughts for their eyes only. Six months later, I listened to one of those letters being read out at Valedictory - heartfelt and hopeful words from a beautiful girl whose life had been cut so short. Her words reverberated through our souls.

Today, almost a decade later, I spoke to a student who is about to leave behind his schooling and step forward into the rest of his life. This morning, he had opened a letter that he had written a year ago. Unfortunately, he had not taken the exercise too seriously last year, and had written a random, irrelevant sentence. He came to thank me today for finishing off his letter for him. I had written beautiful things, and he was very grateful. Ironically, I had forgotten doing this and have no idea what I wrote to him! But he was touched and I was delighted that my words had had such an impact.

My own letter from the past had not been as terrifying as I had feared. I might not have achieved some of my career goals, but my seventeen year old self was surprisingly wise. She trusted my decisions and, most importantly, she had wished for happiness for me. And I was happy, delightfully happy.

With much relief, I sat down and wrote another ten-year-letter. It's now been sitting in my diary for more than 12 years. Unopened. It turns out that one future letter per lifetime is quite enough. I may still open it, one day - when I get over the fear of my past self.

The ghost of Who-I-Was is strong and formidable, far too powerful for the gentleness of Who-I-Am.

Time to leave future letters where they belong - in the hands of the young.

Laughter and tears

On one of the wettest and most miserable days in decades, I heard two amazing speakers - Robyn Moore and Anh Do. They were both very funny and very inspiring.

Robyn talked about the importance of living in the moment, about choosing our attitude and recognising how extraordinary we are.

Anh talked about life being a blessing and about his father's philosophy about time: 'There's now and there's too late.'

Both Robyn and Anh work with people in terrible circumstances. They told us stories that were sad and hopeful and so, so human. They made me cry.

They said things that felt true. They made me thankful. They made me joyful. They made me want to laugh more.

(But they didn't stop me complaining about how cold and wet I was! Must work on that...)

It's a blessing to be able to have time to hear these ideas and to think about them. It's a blessing to talk and chat and laugh with friends. And it's really, really nice to be reminded that the work we do is important and that it does make a difference in the lives of others :)

Laughter and tears... a beautiful day.