About a month ago, I began two new practices, one daily and one that I do twice a week. The first one is “Storyworthy,” a collection bucket, recommended via friendtor and author Jenny Blake.
This is a spreadsheet with “snippets” to track two or three moments in my day that stand out and that I can use for later stories in essays, talks, or books. I love having a daily record of these moments, almost like those sentence-a-day journals with minimal effort. 💥
The second practice is delivering unexpected and much-needed healing to me, and it seems to many others.
Elizabeth Gilbert arrived on Substack scene September, to my great delight. She is teaching a practice she had taught at a retreat I attended back in April of 2018 in Arizona with her and Martha Beck.
It is called Letters from Love, and begins with the prompt:
Dear Love, what would you have me know today?
We write in response and see what flows forth from the pen (or keyboard). It is a beautiful practice. An ambitious part of me wanted to commit to daily. Fortunately the wiser part of myself, that knows I already rely on daily morning pages revised my commitment to twice a week.
Mondays and Fridays are a great time to bookend my week with extra love, since they are the transition days. They are typically fraught with more expectations than the other weekdays.
I have collected ten of these letters in my journal so far. When I finished the first one, I decided it would be even more effective to hear them being read in my own voice. Indeed, at the end of every recording, I can hear myself sighing deeply, relieved and comforted.
I haven’t felt up to sharing my letters (yet) via her community, since sometimes they reveal some personal things I’m working out, and have names in them. It feels awkward to edit what feel like divine gifts to myself, so I have kept them private.
However, I felt like sharing with the members of her community that:
Hearing them in my own voice back to me has been healing medicine. I’ve gone back to them and replayed them to myself when I forget to feel that love toward myself.
It turns out Liz does this too! (BTW, I know that I don’t KNOW Liz well enough to call her this. We have a “parasocial” relationship. But now that she’s named me in a newsletter, I’m getting bold.) 🥳
I debated whether to respond in some meaningful way to share this kind shout-out, but questioned the etiquette. Is this gauche?
My friend Melani (of an accidental sabbatical) had helpful feedback. She told me “Liz could have seen your comment and mentioned her practice of doing this. But she generously gave you credit for calling it out.” So true!
Here is my letter from love from October 5, 2023, just before leaving on a trip and getting into a familiar frenzy of overwhelm, and trying to do too many things at once:
Dear Love, what would you have me know today?
You have time.
I know you don’t believe this because everyone tells you that time is running out. From the ads that tell you what’s available for a limited time only, to all the kind mentors that advised you to use your time well.
You have taken on these beliefs innocently. Your mind didn’t know any better. And now you can begin to unhook from those unhelpful messages.
Your Gemini rising brain easily takes on whatever you choose to put into it. That’s the key. Choose well, and you won’t have to keep detoxing from this culture of always-on busyness.
Now, I know it will be tempting to participate. But I will never judge you for slipping back into it out of habit. I will be here to love you and to beckon you back to the peaceful place where you can rest easy.
With the moon in cancer for the next couple of days, let yourself soften. That hard shell you wear to protect yourself is useful a lot of the time. But there’s a part of you that needs to rest and put your shields down now and then. I will be here to surround you with care while you do this.
Everything is optional. You can say “no” or “not now” when you need to. And have some fun as you travel this weekend. Your work with be waiting for you unti you return.
It won’t miss you, and you can release youselfe from it to return refreshed.
You have time.
I love you. Thank you for remembering this any time the stress returns.
Hearing myself speak these words, and hearing my own sign of relief on my voice recording, I knew this was love itself speaking.
I went back to the “you have time” mantra for the rest of my morning. I felt the difference in my body, the ease and rest, versus repeating the familiar “there’s too much to do” mantra of our times.
Try these on in your own body for a moment.
How does “you have time” feel?
Do you take a sigh of relief, and feel the unclench?
How does “there’s too much to do” feel in your body?
Do your shoulders tighten? Do your hips activate, like you need to rush?
Our thoughts move so much faster than the rest of us. And sometimes writing, slowing ourselves down, taking a look at what we may be running on autopilot, can reveal what distresses us.
These letters from love seem to access a deeper part of what I think of as divine love. Some might call it God, but that word is too fraught with negative patriarchal meanings for me. I’m embracing this love as a divine feminine voice, perhaps even a channeling through me of this love.
And what can be more healing than knowing I can access this part of my being than can soothe my distress at will?
On days when the critic voices or the dictator (as I call him) start telling me I’m not working hard enough, I have begun to play back a few of these letters from love.
If you need support, or more wonderful examples of this practice, do check out Letters from Love. It’s been a nourishing and healing practice. It takes less than 5 minutes to write, and 1-3 minutes to record. Best use of time in my morning. ❣️
This post will be released in a modified audio form for the podcast Somatic Wisdom on Saturday, October 14th.