Love Letter #52: Snapshots

This Autumn, I’m writing a series of love letters: to the Universe, to myself, to friends and family, to strangers. Sometimes these are public, and sometimes private, but always from the heart. Here is today’s letter.

You will want to remember this day.

Years from now, when you are so different and so alike to the you of this moment, you will look back upon this photo and see so many emotions that you never knew existed. And so many that you already feel: joy. sorrow. overwhelm. excitement. possibility. fear. new beginnings. deep endings.

So you capture this moment, tangled in a web of moments and beings, and hold it close to your heart. Nothing is certain, and yet this time is filled with a sense of calm. You are growing. You are deepening. You are expanding and condensing at the same time.

When you were little, you would climb into the tiniest spaces, trying to dissolve into the background, trying never to be seen. Other days, you were loudest and most rambunctious child anyone had seen. Now you can remember why you were both invisible and outrageously loud at the same time, but then it made no sense. Then, it was conflict and confusion and chaos. Much like now.

Some day, you'll look back on these moments of standing tall and cowering deep with the same sense of clarity. Trust they will be understood by your future self, and rest a little. You need not be cowering always. Step into that circle of light on the stage before you, before it goes out, and stand proud. Even when you don't know what to say, and you're grappling for words like handholds on a cliff, they will listen. The ones who see you now know that you have something to say. They wait, not rushing, not pushing, until you find the courage to share your own words.

And so too do you wait, patient and loving, for the words of others to come spilling forth. That is your task now, younger self. Witness, explore, nurture, and co-create. You know the way. You know the how. Let the why be revealed in sweet mystery.

And remember these moments, sitting in the shade on a bench outside the museum, watching the people stroll past, watching the birds and the insects land near your feet, and remember that you are just fine.

Loving you always, your heart

{PS: If you’re interested in more journeys into the depths of being, check out my upcoming writing workshop Travelling the Deep. It begins 31 October!}