Our words are potent. The ones we speak aloud to others and the ones we speak quietly to ourselves. This is an invitation to focus your words into a love note.
Write a love letter to a friend or family member expressing your gratitude. Write a letter to yourself expressing what you love about yourself. Or write both.
Make it short and simple, or long and detailed. It’s the intention that counts.
Below is a letter my friend, Sahar, wrote to herself last week.
I love her vulnerability, honesty, and sense of discovery.
May her letter inspire you to sink into your heart and let it flow.
A Perfect Moment
I thought of her as your perfect princess, gentle warrior, divine seeker of noble spirit and sacred bone. I heard from another that she is beautiful. That your kids look like you. I imagined you both whispering into the night, exploring the stars, wondering and wandering from one perfect moment to the next. Yes, I admit, when I heard you had married, it stung.
It’s been 10 years since we last spoke, but your voice on the other end of the line sounds just the same. You still laugh like a 100-year old child, with giggle and rasp. You knit me a dream or two where we sit and rest for a bit. Then you’re off again wondering and wandering from one perfect moment to the next.
You pause and ask if its too much, and I laugh. “No. I could listen to you forever, I say.” And its just like it has always been with us: effortless, and soulful, and rich. And you say, “Its always been this way with us: effortless, and soulful, and rich.” And you say you think about us, about that time, and you wish… you wish… then you stumble over words to explain what I already know. “Don’t misunderstand,” you say. I don’t.
“I don’t mean I wish things were different, I love my wife… I just mean the way it feels right now between us… I would… in some alternate reality…” and then you lose your words. When you find them again, you say, “I just mean the thing that binds you and I, the places we explore, the darkness, the light… it would bore her.” And that’s when I realize…
Yes, she is your “one,” the one you’ve promised your life to without regret. I understand that. But she is not your perfect princess, gentle warrior, divine seeker of noble spirit and sacred bone. She is your perfect something else, but not that. That woman lives only in me, the me who is me, with you. And you, who laughs like a 100 year old child, with giggle and rasp… that is the you who is you, with me.
And you like the you-with-me and I like the me-with-you. And I like the me that you see. And I like the you that I inspire. And nobody in the world gets to know that you, but me. And if it is true the divine is made of earth and dust, breathing within and through all things, then I see it in this perfect moment where me, loving you, is me loving me.
Sahar Driver, February 2015