It was sunny outside, and the light and heat made me forget that it was cold and windy too. I was walking. I walked past people who were baffled by my upbeat attitude, my “walking-on-a-cloud” gait, my luminescent aura, and the big grin plastered on my face. Some of the people who passed me by asked me, “Why are you smiling?” They say, scandalized, “What is there to be happy about?” They asked, “What is your secret?” I don’t say anything. I just kept walking. I will tell them, but first I need to let you know. As I write this, a new year has begun. It is the First of January, Two Thousand Twenty-Two.

I am happy because I have discovered the secret to happiness. I have also found the secret to time travel, but that one’s less critical¹. Hello, me, it’s you, in ten years! Or maybe even twelve years! Once the message is in the bottle, I can’t control who receives it.

First, I can’t tell you anything of material importance. We can’t have you trying to control the future². For example, I can’t tell you that things will get better. I definitely can’t tell you to buy Amazon stock. You don’t even know Amazon. I can tell you that you no longer wield your self-deprecation as a crutch, but you still use it as a shield. You’ve lost weight, a lot of it. You can cook well. Your strategy of not wanting friends has worked wonders, and you now have good friends. Even when you aren’t in the room, they say nice things about you. Trust me³.

You have warm slippers. Your feet are always so cold. You bought the slippers from Amazon, and frankly, you regret not buying them sooner. They are comfortable, making your feet feel like they are being snuggled by warm puppy noses. I am sure you are walking around barefoot right now, saying that the cold never bothered you anyway⁴. Unlike the slippers, your work is not that important. Work is writing for you. You are probably dreaming up a story right now. You think of yourself as a magical creature, a fluffy Unicorn, in a land of stories. You write a lot, but you like almost none of it. You know that you write because you are simply compelled to tell a story. A story that will take everything that you know about the World, which is not much, and build a bridge between you and the rest of Humanity. You did not do that. You can not do that.

You have a job you like, though you won’t admit it. It doesn’t involve what you call “being creative.” But, you are good at it. People tell you that, and they don’t really have a reason to lie because you aren’t even that nice to them. I know you hate the idea of people management, but people like you, and you can motivate them and get them to work together. You have become better at sharing. You write when you can, and you hate almost none of it. You somehow know more and yet, less about the World. It is more broken than you always suspected it to be. Dogs continue to love you, and cats have warmed up to you.

Your friends ask you questions about things that you can’t answer. You understand now that “what do I know” while honest is not always helpful. You are no longer a proud subscriber of “Told You So” magazine. You use words to fashion a crude splint, and you hope you have helped. People find you funny and likable. As far as you can tell, by doing what you like and trying, often failing, to be good, you have managed to find good people. This might be the accomplishment you should be proud of. Well, there are other things to be proud of, but you still don’t like bragging⁵.

You will be glad to know that you still have that urge in you to create. Your tools haven’t rusted, and your muscles haven’t withered. You have a better sense of what you can create and what it means to the audience. Don’t be so hard on yourself⁶. Trite, banal, “heard it before,” I can hear you say. I hate to admit it, but it is true and simple, like most truths in Life. There are ups and downs. Only death is perfect.

Don’t assume that only you can see the World for what it is. For two years, people like you have paid the price of goods ordered by someone else. People have been forced to see it daily for two years now. They don’t need reminders. Show them the World as it can be or better, as it should be. The Universe does not get cable and is incapable of understanding Irony⁷.

You haven’t gotten the better of all your insecurities yet, but you know where they all live. You are not a fluffy Unicorn; you are a brown Raccoon, scavenging for scraps and getting good at it. You have never taken happiness for granted, which will serve you well. Life is both too long and too short. Don’t forget that but also don’t think about that all the time. You know you want to do so much more than you can. Be satisfied with what you did. Kindness and charity live together.

Try to relax. Things happen with and without you. Even the minotaur had moments of peace in the labyrinth. Happy new year.

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