Dear Friends,
Last week, I watched a music show called Back to the Future, and it left me thinking about time in a different way. Not as something we travel through with machines, but as something we revisit through reflection. Maybe the closest we ever come to “time travel” is imagining a wiser version of ourselves, and letting that version guide the person we are today.
If I picture my future self — twenty or thirty years from now — I think she would smile quietly at how much I try to hold together. She wouldn’t tell me to move faster or push harder. She would probably say:
“You’re doing better than you think. Slow down. Trust yourself. Protect your energy. And stay open — the next chapter needs space to arrive.”
She might also remind me that presence isn’t something we prove; it’s something that shows itself in the small, steady ways we show up when it matters.
Lately I’ve been revisiting Thomas L. Friedman’s The World Is Flat, a book about how globalisation and technology reshaped the way we work. Today, our world feels both flatter and wider — flatter because we connect across borders effortlessly, and wider because our sense of identity is expanding beyond the labels we used to rely on.
Mo Gawdat once said that, in the future, we may define ourselves less by nationality and more simply as “human.” I think this is where compassion begins: when we see ourselves and others as evolving, changing, and learning continuously.
And somewhere between those thoughts, another version of me appears — my younger self.
The girl who came to a new country alone.
The one who didn’t yet know the rules or the language but kept going anyway.
If my future self could speak to her, I think she would whisper:
“You were braver than you realised. You were learning faster than you knew. You didn’t have a plan, but you were already building a life.”
Maybe that is the real gift of reflection:
our future self gives us reassurance,
and our younger self gives us courage.
Watching different reactions to transformation recently reminded me how uncomfortable change can be. Some people lean forward, some hold back, some feel the loss before they see any opportunity. And I understand all of it. Change doesn’t require enthusiasm — only openness.
And openness doesn’t mean pretending everything is easy.
It simply means choosing where we place our energy, especially in moments we cannot control.
If there is one message I hope my future self would send back to me today, it might be this:
“Be gentler with yourself. Things unfold in their own time. You are becoming someone you can’t fully see yet.”
With gratitude,
Until next time —
Lydia
P.S. If this letter found you at just the right moment, I’d love to hear about it. Join my weekly letter list and let’s figure it out together — one AI-shaped step at a time. Join the weekly letter list.
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