Letter from 29

Letter from 29

310414 –

How are you? How is the planet? All is well here on 29, but things are shifting faster than most of us in this space are ready for.

I had a thought today, and between my work shifts I figured I would write you a letter. How incredible is it, that we can do this? I saw your letter in my journal, by the way. I appreciated the boost. I am not sure if they were just words, or whether you had the capacity to understand the weight of your lettering — but I thank you anyway.

I digress.

Today I thought about your doubt in the ways of the Universe. I thought about all the moments you worried that you needed to control the rhythm, the times you felt like you needed to hold on when you’d been asked to let go… and I saw it the way I saw a book. You do still love to read, don’t you? So perhaps this may help you.

Imagine a book that has wonderful characters, and one of them is your particular favourite. You’re, say, on chapter 5. There is no mention of this character — let’s call him 1041 — and the entire chapter is just about the scene of a small town that was just introduced.

As you read this chapter, do you find yourself revelling in the sights and sounds within your mind, so beautifully described by the person creating this new world? Or do you find yourself frustrated, wondering why on earth the scene is being set when truly, you just want to find out what is happening to 1041 in this fictional moment?

The latter sounds silly to you now, because you are far removed from this story. You lack the emotional attachment to realise that I’m describing a pattern in your behaviour that you often feel afraid to let go of.

I’ve watched you lose track of your symbolic 1041, and immediately get angry that all the focus in the story isn’t on him. You fret, and worry, and tear yourself apart because you want something in front of you that just isn’t available. What you don’t realise, is that the book isn’t finished. You’re so focused on the chapter you want chapter 5 to be, that you’ve forgotten that the author created this story to fill up your heart. You forgot to trust that the chapter you need, is probably just a chapter you haven’t read yet.

When you focus on what isn’t currently within your grasp, do you realise that you’re missing the setting of the scene in which you can have it all? Are you aware that the dinner of the gods cannot have a table set for a king? Do you understand that your desire for fool’s gold is blocking your ability to receive diamonds?

Be patient, young one. Your time will come. For now.. enjoy the view, close your eyes and allow the process. One day, you will aim for castles higher still, and you may just yearn for those moments you could breathe in the grass, staring at the sky, your dreams like the clouds upon which my castles now live. Those moments when you naively doubted you could have and be it all.

I miss that naïveté in my own life sometimes. You may think that’s funny, but it’s true.

What is worse than a lack of understanding? Being filled with understanding, then watching yourself sink to the bottom of despair, with your hands clenched into unwilling fists. The higher the castle we conjure, 310414, the bigger the desire to anchor our feet into the pits of hell.

Until we reconnect,


A Letter to my Body

A Letter to my Body

Dear Body:

Today you decided that you have had enough of my abuse. I recently said to Laura Brown that I have been neglecting you, but that’s not true, is it? No, I’ve been hearing your screams begging me to stop certain things — but continued to do them anyway.

You tried to tell me once before. You had been asking me for a conversation when I got into an abusive relationship, but I ignored you — even though you had shut down my womanhood — until you screamed into my brain for me to literally, stop — with a stroke.

Today I had 8 cups of coffee. Even though you don’t like coffee. And then I added in some natural stuff to calm you down. I figured, instead of confronting the root of the issue — my abuse — I would do another quick fix to shut you up.

But you’re tired of my quick fixes, aren’t you?

Now, as I write this from my bed, feeling your discomfort, unable to move, tears streaming down my face — half your relief and half my shame — I remember. I remember the times you’ve begged for sleep and I’ve prioritized others’ opinions of me. I remember the times you’ve begged for water and I’ve sadistically taken dehydrating substances. I remember the times you’ve begged for mercy as I dealt blow, after blow, after blow.

But most of all: I remember that you are the best friend I’ve ever had. The type of friend I’ve been looking for, but who was with me all along. You carried me and held me when I hated you for not being beautiful enough, for not being strong enough. You moved gracefully despite the drone of my incessant criticism at how your movements weren’t the way I wanted them to be. You supported me when I showed nothing but anger and meanness to you.

I spend so much time trying to be good to the world but I forgot to be good to the one who needs me most.

I’m sorry. I love you. I need you.
Thank you for showing me how to be a friend. Now, it’s my turn.