Dear me,

Here is a letter I am writing now, in a moment of reflection and acknowledgment. I want to start with what must never be forgotten, with the things that always deserve to remain in mind, no matter how everything else changes.

Never forget the value of genuine relationships, the connections that make heavy days lighter and the unknown paths less lonely. Never forget the beauty of silent moments when you watch nature or the joy of a small accomplishment that seemed trivial but turned out to be much greater than expected. Always remember that gratitude is the key, and happiness lies in the little details you experience daily but only notice when they’re gone.

Amid all this, there is something important that you didn’t give enough attention to in the first thirty years of your life: self-love and self-acceptance. For a long time, you chased an ideal image of yourself, believing you wouldn’t deserve love unless you were flawless and without mistakes. But you learned, even if late, that true love begins within, and accepting yourself as you are is not the end of the road but its beginning.

However, there is another thing I want to draw your attention to: your thoughts. We are what we think, and your thoughts are the compass that guides you. So, I ask you this question: Have your thoughts changed over the past ten years? Have they matured? Have they become more aware and open?

If you’re reading this letter now and find yourself holding on to the same ideas you believed in back in 2024, it means that ten years of your life have gone to waste. Because life is movement, change is a necessity, and growth is not optional.

So please, make sure you haven’t wasted a decade clinging to what should have evolved. Be honest with yourself and constantly ask: Am I living with today’s mindset, or am I stuck in yesterday’s?

Finally, remember: self-love and flexibility in thinking are what will allow you to move forward without weighing yourself down or losing who you are.

With all my love,

Your younger self

Muath Khalid ALruwaydh 

DON’T READ BEFORE JANUARY 1, 2050

January 1, 2025

Dear Joost,

Congratulations! 2025 starts today and I’m jealous of the future you find yourself in twenty-five years later.

I can’t imagine how happy you must be with the idealism and the constructive efforts with which you, or rather, I and a slowly growing part of the world’s population faced the challenges society was facing in 2025, even if it seemed futile at times.

It’s a testament to humanity’s perseverance that the CO2 crisis is finally over. The air quality is improving and temperatures are slowing going down again. Who would have thought it? Me, of course! It’s also amazing to see that industrial processes, among others, are now all circular and sustainable. 

I’m jealous of all the wonderful technology you have at your disposal in 2050. Can you remember how, in 2025, I was ashamed to fly? But now, all planes use hydrogen-based fuel. In 2025, I was ashamed to be using AI, but your neuromorphic AI (‘made in Groningen’) is so energy efficient that it’s powered by sunlight, your own movements, and your body heat. The unused energy is immediately stored in these really cool batteries that can be used for later.

I also would have loved the cool AI glasses you have in 2050, which constantly give you the visual and auditory information you need. You can ask it the silliest questions and you always get a useful answer.

The fact that you’re getting a little forgetful these days is no problem at all, because you’re constantly being reminded of names and words, and to buy a present for your better half. Not that you’d ever forget her name, of course.

How amazing that cancer and all those other horrible diseases are no longer a common cause of death in 2050. And let’s not forget all those gadgets that help you and other people to age healthily. 

I’m sure not all the problems in the worlds have been solved. Sure, there’s fewer people living poverty, but the global differences in development and prosperity probably still exist to some extent. You probably still have wars and other conflicts. As well as the differences in ideology that lead to constant friction. That means there are plenty of society issues to work on for 2075! 

Will you promise me that you’ll write a letter to your future self for January 1, 2075?

I’d like to congratulate you once again and finish this letter by hoping you will tackle the challenges that 2050 throws at you with the same commitment and positive naïveté you had in 2025.

Yours truly, your very own Joost

Dear Future Self,

By the time you read this letter, you’ll be 37 years old. You’ll look back on everything you’ve been through and feel so proud of the person you’ve become. Growing up, you didn’t have much, but you worked tirelessly to create the life you wanted for yourself and your family. Over the years, you’ve shared what little you had, and for that, you should hold your head high.

You’ve made countless sacrifices for the happiness of others, and while that’s admirable, I hope that by now, you’ve learned to choose yourself more often. I hope you’re genuinely happy with where you are in life. Whether you have a loving family of your own or you’re living alone chasing your dreams, I hope you’ve found contentment.

There will always be moments of loneliness and sadness because of the responsibilities you bear. Being the family’s breadwinner hasn’t been easy, and at times, it’s felt overwhelming. But when you reflect on everything, I know you won’t regret the choices you’ve made. You’ve worked so hard in helping your siblings graduate from college, fixing the family home, and proving time and again how reliable you are even if sometimes you forget to treat yourself. 

By now, I hope you’ve recovered from being a people-pleaser. Ten years ago, you often sought validation from others, felt guilty for prioritizing yourself, and apologized far too often, even when you were right. I hope you’re stronger now. I hope you’ve learned to stand up for yourself, say "no" when needed, and protect your boundaries. I hope you’ve embraced self-love, appreciating yourself despite your imperfections. 

A decade ago, you’re constantly worried about gaining weight and feared being judged. I hope that now you’ve let go of those anxieties. I hope you love yourself fully and no longer care about the opinions of others.

Above all, if you’re not single (which is completely fine btw) I hope you’re with someone who truly loves and accepts the real, quirky, and crazy you (yes, the one who laughs at their own jokes, haha). I hope you’ve fulfilled your dream of traveling to Japan, and that you still approach life with a heart full of love and optimism.

You’ve always been amazing, and I’m so proud of how far we’ve come.

With all my love,

Your Past Self

Dear Maaike,

‘Smart’, I think to myself.  There’s a new bottle of dish-washing liquid on the counter in the pantry on the fourth floor, and someone even added a little water to the nearly empty old bottle so we can still do dishes. All I have to wash is a single plate and the liquid easily comes out of the bottle.

To my left, the people from facilities are setting up the Christmas tree; it’s nice that they’re adding a little cosiness to the Feringa Building. The building will get cosier anyway over time. It just needs a little attention and love, which it is now getting in the shape of the Christmas tree.

I can’t help but take a picture with my UG-issued phone. It only shows the glass roof and the atrium from the fourth floor, so I’m assuming it doesn’t violate the GDPR. I’ll send the photo to my colleagues to thank them for their efforts in setting up the tree.  

I appreciate the way people treat each other at the UG. It makes working with people easy, people are always willing to help you figure out a problem, which increases the chance of results.

It’s in the little things, like walking downstairs to the Beijk cafeteria with the water pitcher that was left behind after a meeting and taking my colleague’s bowl with me as I go. I check our department’s pigeon hole on the way and before I know it, I’ve got my steps in.

I run into people I know on the stairs, who compliment and encourage me for not taking the lift. It’s my way of getting some exercise; it’s important to stay in shape. This will only become more important as I age. 

I’m glad to have found a place at the UG after years of being a full-time mum. Yesterday afternoon, I went to do the dishes in the pantry and found two students sitting at the table there. They had spread out their books and were hard at work; they hadn’t been able to find a proper place to study elsewhere in the building.

The wooden table in the pantry is kind of like sitting in your mother’s kitchen while she washes your coffee cups. That’s how I see it, too; it’s all in the small things. All you have to do is pay attention and give it meaning in a way that speaks to you. It’s raining and cold outside, but my little UG blanket is in the cupboard in my office. You have to allow yourself a little warmth, and keep the faith.

Dear Future Self,

In one of our favorite movies, The Big Chill, there is a scene where the girlfriend of the character who committed suicide is telling someone about her past, and instead of talking about jobs or where she lived or other milestones, she recites a list of men’s names. It is a poignant scene, but I think you know where I am going with this:  this is also how we would narrate our life, except the list of phases in life is names of pets, and that is lovely. Not because the births and deaths, the meeting and taking leave of family and friends are unimportant. But the human is everything for their pet for their whole life together, and that deserves recognition. The era of Rover, the reign of Mittens. 

I’m sure you remember that we had dogs and/or cats all of our adult life, and one glorious phase of two dogs and two cats, and then it dwindled to a single small dog at the time of this writing, in December 2024. At the end of 2034, he will be almost 13 years old; he’s small and scrappy and will probably live that long. But he’ll be old. They don’t live long enough, our dogs and cats. We have said goodbye to a lot of pets – five dogs and three cats by 2024 – and that is a lot of love, but also a lot of loss. 

So, future self, there you are with an aging dog who is long since blind and now going deaf, no longer able to run in circles when he’s happy, walking on stiff legs to lie in a patch of sun, eating soft food because his teeth are bad. And there we are, once again, worrying that he is in pain, and facing loss. Are you ready for more?

I’m 62 as I write this. I’ve lost a lot of people, and pets, not to mention flexibility and energy. At 72, there will have been more losses. But I’ve gained, through all of those I’ve loved, so much more. So the answer is yes, yes, set yourself up for the heartbreak of watching a pet grow old again, and again, as long as you can. Adopt a dog, rescue a cat, foster a dachshund. As long as you can, be ready for more. 

The 50 richest people produce as much CO₂ in 90 minutes as the average person does in an entire lifetime.

News that feels like a slap in the face or a punch in the stomach rather than mere information. News that makes me stumble, stop and think. 

What am I doing here? What am I fighting for? 

Am I the person in a war running into a wall of fire, hoping they can still win? Do I want to be that person, or would I rather just turn around and hide − and live?

Maybe there’s another option I can’t see yet. Maybe I need to stop running to see the bigger picture.

But honestly, the slower I run, the more of the bigger picture I see, the more fire there is.

This might sound very dark, and believe me, I’ve been trying to find another metaphor for it − for the feelings that today’s problems evoke in me. But I haven’t found one yet.

I grew up not knowing about global crises and learned along the way. The older I got, the more I knew, and the more my motivation to do something about it grew. Until, at some point, it seemed I learned too much. I started seeing problems everywhere, and the thought crept into my head that maybe − just maybe − there’s no reason for hope, no reason to fight.

And now it’s here. This feeling of hopelessness that I’m trying to deal with.

So, what should I do? 

I used to believe that learning more about climate change, capitalism, and politics − gaining knowledge on environmental degradation, social inequality and technological developments − would bring hope. 

And it did – sometimes. But most of the time, the problems grow into a mountain that seems impossible to climb.

Writing this leaves me wondering what expression you, future Jelka, wear as you read this. Would it be an amused smile, looking back at my dramatic reflections with a feeling of growth? Is it a tear-streaked face, carrying the weight of everything you've come to understand? Or is it, after all, an expression of peace, having come to accept the world’s complexity and your place within it.

Dear Rianne,

An excerpt from my diary: I was just reminded of my theme, or word, for 2025: faith. Immediately after, I felt anxious: would I be able to do it? Can I truly have faith? What sort of ‘scary’ things will come across that will force me to have faith?

I so badly want to have faith. I feel like I’m on the precipice of expecting, truly expecting, positive things, because I literally create them myself. It feels like I only need to take one more step before I’m where I want to be. Funnily enough, it often feels that way.

But man, this is another ‘big shift’. Every time I make one of these shifts, I’ve let go of another layer of fear and insecurity, and I’ve gained insight, quietude, understanding, and faith, resulting in more self-assuredness and relaxation. In more faith that everything will be alright.

All the anger and frustration I’ve felt in the past few weeks make way for a new start, for more love, quietude, and space. Expressing and releasing that anger has catapulted me into a new, deeper kind of faith and love. 

I’ve gained insight; that we’re both okay just as we are. That I no longer need to heal, that there’s nothing in particular that I have to ‘do’ in order to have value.

That I have inherent value. There is nothing wrong with me and I haven’t done anything wrong, either. Everything is right. Everything is how it should be.

Nothing is broken, nothing is lost. Things have always been good. I am love. You are love. Everything is love; there’s nothing that isn’t love. Love is overflowing the world, rising up in our hearts, freeing the Syrian prisoners. Love opens all doors.

There is nothing else. Nothing else matters. There is nothing but love. Everything is love. Every person, every soul, no matter their background or ideology. Everyone is love. And I love you. I love you so much. All of you. All of you. This is the new Earth. This is the loving Earth. It always was and it always will be. There is nothing but love. I love you. I love you. I love you. And so it is.

Rianne Gringhuis - HR employee (city centre)

Dear future self,

On a universe-sized canvas the world will remain the same in the next ten, one hundred or even one thousand years. With this scale in mind everything that happens on earth is equally tiny to the movements of atoms or quarks. 

Our own understanding, ideas, and interpretations of the world around us, however, are not equally tiny nor shared by every single person. And the only point of view we have, is our own. Therefore, a feeling of misunderstanding is bound to occur because of differences no one enforced.
We try to cope with these differences, as in our view on the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’, ‘right and ‘wrong’, leading us often wanting for more simpler times in the past. 

But, dear future self, I encourage you to occasionally stop questioning, stop coping, stop trying to understand why things happen, and stop thinking about the right and wrong, good and bad.

Instead, please just wonder about everything that you are allowed to experience during your lifetime. It is only a one-time opportunity.

And remember, the future is not set in stone, based on the universal rule that (almost) nothing lasts. Neither suffering nor love, neither pain nor happiness. Yet, may any act you perform result in a more compassionate world than before.

So, I give you this: stand in amazement and acceptance of that which you cannot change, but please do change that which you cannot accept.