A few weeks ago in one of the Very Personal Ads, I asked for “birthday rituals”. Not really knowing what would show up, but just hoping that something would emerge.

And nothing showed up until then it did. I felt drawn to write a letter to me a year from now, and then I asked her to write back to me.

Today is my birthday. And here is the letter I wrote.

Dear me in a year from now,

I feel so close to you, so much love for you. And I’m also a little intimidated by you.

But then I remember that me-last-year was also intimidated by me-now, and that I told her that everything would be okay.

And it was. And here I am.

So let me step out of all this tangle and tell you what I know.

I love you so much.

Everything I do now is for you.

Sometimes I guess wrong, I miscalculate, I overestimate my capacity.

And still, every decision I arrive at has the secret intention to make your life more peaceful and harmonious, more grounded.

I realize, of course, that what you want the most is for me to take care of now-me first.

Because that is how I can be the strongest, healthiest me when I am you. If that makes sense.

And I do.

I do try to take care of now-me. That is one of the many things I want to give you.

What I have learned this year, among other things:

Sacrificing now for what is to come only cripples me-who-is-now. It makes the connection between us more shaky and more hesitant.

So I’m not going to do that anymore.

I nap for you. I stop for you. I flail for you. And also for me.

What I wish for you.

Support, sovereignty, peace, radiance, comfort, spaciousness, grounding, play, possibility, delight, strength, courage, wonder, trust, forgiveness, ease, resilience, flexibility, power, love.

It is clear to me now that you already inhabit these qualities. In fact, I’m pretty sure that your world is more full of these than I can even imagine.

Probably mine is too.

But you see them. You are better at seeing what is already there.

What I do for you.

I pause before each doorway: three, two, one.

Before each transition: three, two, one.

Before bed. Before visiting the river.

What I need from you.

Remind me that my gwishes are valid — that my wanting is legitimate and useful.

Show me how much you benefit from each piece that gets put into place now.

Comfort me when I am fearful.

The planting of the gwishes.

[This is where I listed all the things I want from the coming year.

These are silent gwishes – things that are in between goals and wishes. They have to do with being the queen of my internal world and everything that comes from that.]

What I am giving you.

Signs and reminders.

A flag with an image of take-out food on it.

The rocking chair.

An itinerary for pirate queen holidays.

Colored pencils.

A tiny boat.

This is your year.

I cannot wait to meet you.

Play with me! And comment zen for the blanket fort…

Even if your birthday already happened or isn’t coming for a while (or maybe it is your birthday — hi, Tricia!), you can totally write a letter to you-in-a-year.

It can be as short or as long as you’d like. You can share it here or not. You can follow the structure that came to me or invent your own or just write whatever comes into your head however it wants to appear.

As always: this is a wonderfully safe place. We let everyone have their stuff and their own experience. We make space for people by being welcoming, and not giving unsolicited advice.

Love to the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads. And waving to all the other pisces out there.

Maybe tomorrow I can show you the letter that me-in-a-year-from-now wrote to me. Blowing kisses.