Day 23: The Love Letter

This entry is a result of the question, "Can you write an authentic love letter?" asked on Day 20. You can find the full rules & guidelines of the Yes Test here


Hello, You. 

We don't talk very much, at least not like this. I tend to find myself distracted by myself, which means I ignore you when you're quietly shining a light through the fog. I wish you could find a way to be louder, or maybe I need to figure out how to quiet down so you can be the one to take over and stand rooted and confident. I'm so sorry that I don't know how to step back and let you be the brave one, even though I know, and you know, that you are the reason for all of this. 

For all of the societal metrics that we haven't reached — financial security, steady employment, relationships — the most interesting nuggets of my life, the ones that distract people from the fact that we are categorically homeless and unemployed, are because of you. You're the reason why we're traveling around the world, why right now, I get to go kayaking at 2:30 on a Tuesday afternoon or spontaneously take a road trip through Bosnia. If it was up to me, we'd be in a power suit with a big bonus, asking What is the point of all of this money, if all we ever see is the 10 block radius around our apartment, and all we ever do is work and work out and network toward a life that simply allows us to continue working and working out to networking our way farther down the Bell Curve? You're the reason why we decided it was time to get off all that poorly managed medication and at least give an unmedicated life a shot. If it was up to me, we would have stayed on those pills and that couch until we purposefully walked in front of the M15 Select bus, or until we didn't notice it coming toward us. Whichever came first. It didn't matter. You're the reason why we're surrounded with friends, new and old, gathered along the way like truffles found during an afternoon walk through the Tuscan forest. 

Even though time and time again you've proved that you are right, and that your instinct is the always sound, I still have trouble fully surrendering to your path and abandoning my own. Had I listened to you, how much of this could have been avoided? What would be different? What would be the same? You're telling me now that all is as it should be, but I'm running through a scratchy videotape of all the scenes in which I heard you say this is not the only way and I said to you, What do you know? I've been THINKING about this for hours, days, and weeks and you're just some feeling that comes in with no basis in reality and no plan of execution. I have a plan. It's laid out on paper and in the conversations with dozens of people who obviously know more than you. So thanks for trying, but do better. 

I know I should have listened. I know I should listen, but that requires radical trust in you and the Universe. It requires an overhaul and reset of everything I know and have known. 

Maybe the lifelong commitment is too much, and we just need to try it out for a little while. I could use a break anyway, so why don't you take over for the next three months? Until October, let's say. We'll reassess, then.

Surprise me. Take me somewhere new, and remind me when I'm trying to pull you back. This is my gift, my offering of eternal love and surrender, to you and the compass that is quietly quivering toward home.