To celebrate the passing of another of my birthdays I am occupying myself by writing letters to myselves of yesterday and yet-to-come.

To myself of yesteryear, I promise this: The things you disliked about your life and mistakes you made will not have been in vain; we will grow gardens from the soil of our failures.

To myself of tomorrow, I vow to deal more honestly with the decisions of today. I will try to be graceful with my present mistakes and think of struggle not as a problem to be solved but an opportunity to explore the person I want us to be.

To myself of right now, practice being mindful of this: Life is not about what you understand life is about what you experience.

And finally, in conclusion to all of us, may we never forget that right now self is the only self we will ever be.