A vulnerable first letter to you

Loving ourselves through these chaotic times

Hi there, it’s Rieko :)

I’ve been meaning to write to you for quite some time now and ended up spending an embarrassing number of hours mulling over what to say. In the early days of the Internet I was a teenager having fun anonymously publishing my somewhat cringe-worthy diary and poems on a manually coded “blog” on Geocities that I knew no one was going to read. Twenty-plus years later, the Internet feels like a very different place, and the stakes of sharing anything personal feels way higher.

But the whole point of me writing this is to connect with you. Besides, I think realness is what we’re all craving amidst the mind-numbing ocean of digital content we’re swimming in (much of which isn’t even created by humans anymore.)

Ever since December, it’s been a non-stop rollercoaster ride of busy-ness, overwhelm, emotional release, and also moments of clarity and excitement for me. Lots of long-standing, deeply buried hurts, dysfunctional habits, and stories of unworthiness coming to the light. I’ve been crying a lot: leaning against a tree on the sidewalk, on the living room couch, at the dining table, on the yoga mat, in the bath tub, and on my husband’s shoulder.

I’ve learned not to judge any of it and be extra kind to myself when I go through these phases. On the surface, it looks like I’m just having meltdowns. But inside, there’s a bigger part of me that’s holding me with tenderness through it all. I take a lot of comfort in non-dual teachers saying that as your consciousness expands, the more space it creates for things to come up for healing (even though it sure sucks to have to go through it).

There seems to be chaos out there in the world, as well as inside of me. I can choose to judge, fight and resist, or surrender, be gentle with myself, and do my best to ride the waves.

A Letter from Love

One practice that’s been a lifeline for me during these times is called Letters from Love, as taught by Elizabeth Gilbert, in which you write a letter to yourself from a presence of unconditional love. She has a delightful Substack where she shares the letters that she and her guests have written every week.

I’d been doing a similar practice of writing letters to myself in my journal for years, but there is something about her specific format that’s really speaking to me right now. And the messages that have been coming through feel so cozy and intimate yet universal at the same time. It’s for me, yet it’s not just for me. So I thought I’d share one with you. This was from an evening in late December when anxiety was running particularly high.

Dear Love, what would you have me know right now?

We love you deeply, Dear One. You really have no idea!

We adore you even when you’re stressed out, getting snappy at your husband, beating yourself up after realizing you’d spent a half an hour picking at your itchy skin, or running around like a chicken with its head cut off because deep down you don’t believe you can afford to take anything slowly.

We understand that you’ve gone through some very hurtful experiences in the past that left you believing—quite stubbornly—that you’re never as good as everyone else. That you have to work extra hard and extra fast to catch up and keep up so that they won’t bully and humiliate you. That you have to become one of those people who’s figured it all out, in order to make even a decent living in this world.

But here’s what we’d like you to breathe in, Dear One.

YOU. ARE. ENOUGH.
Just as you are right now.

And despite appearances, there’s no one out there who’s doing better than you or has figured it out.

Life is messy for everyone. It just is.

Everyone is wrestling with their own predicament, just like you.

No matter how enlightened they may seem, no matter much money they’re making, no matter how well-known and respected they are, no matter how pretty they look on photos or videos, they are just human beings doing their very best to move through their messy, beautiful life. Just like you.

So cut yourself some serious slack. You really don’t have to do all those things you think you should do to put your life in order. Life can’t be controlled or managed even if you tried. There’s no end to that insane to-do list. You already know that.

We understand that you have a longing for an experience of life that feels bigger—something more beautiful, joyful, and otherworldly. And we love that about you.

And how we wish you could see that you are that beauty, that joy, and magic that you’ve always been looking for. That you are here to share the beauty, the joy, and magic that you are with everyone around you.

So forget everything you’ve read and heard about success, abundance, or enlightenment. Forget the countless bits of advice and tactics from others about how to make life work that have been stifling you.

What if you don’t need to know?

What if your only job is to be here now, just as you are, and love yourself no matter what?

Just take this breath. And then the next.

Just put one foot forward. And then the other.

That’s all you need to do. That’s all you need to know.

We’ll take care of the rest. Let us do the heavy lifting for you. Let yourself be held. We’ll carry you safely through this beautiful, messy, magical life—if you’re willing to let us ;)

(Wait… I just published yet another very personal journal entry on the World Wide Web. I guess some parts of me haven’t changed since those Geocities days!)

Letting go of the “I can’t hear guidance” story

For many years I envied people who could hear divine guidance as an audible voice or talk to Spirit/Jesus/God. And I told myself the story that “I can’t hear God’s voice. I can’t hear guidance. I’m not awakened or spiritually talented enough.” Although I’ve since let go of that story, I still thought it would sure as hell be nice if I could receive tangible guidance somehow.

As it turns out, guidance—or what feels like it to me, anyway—can come through when I put pen to paper. To me, a Letter from Love feels like the closest thing to “talking to God.” When I write these letters I can’t help but feel the presence of unconditional love in me. And even though a part of me wonders, “Am I just making this up?”—I think it’s just as valuable, because it still means there’s something in me that is capable of not only deeply loving myself, but also telling myself exactly what I need to know.

What’s your relationship to guidance like? Have you ever written yourself a Letter from Love? Leave me a comment or hit reply (if you’re reading this on email) and let me know!

Playing with letters

On a different note, I’ve been playing more with hand lettering and calligraphy the past year, and I find it so wonderfully calming, especially amidst these chaotic times.

I needed a thumbnail image for this newsletter/post, so I decided I’d just play around for a bit and see what happens.

The ink got smudged when I ran the eraser over it. No problem!

I scanned the drawing with my phone, then cleaned it up in Photoshop.

I’ve been trying (not very successfully) to minimize my screen time and do more hands-on activities that get me in my whole body. Art, writing, music, and movement have all been a big part of my healing journey, so I’d love to make room for more of that this year.

Lastly, some housekeeping

Going forward I’d like to send you a personal newsletter like this once or twice a month, in between the biweekly podcast episodes.

If you don’t want to receive the newsletters, click on the “Unsubscribe” link in the footer (if you’re reading this on email) – it should take you to a settings page where you can turn on/off which feed to get email notifications for, or unsubscribe altogether.

Thank you again for inviting me into your inbox! I’ll be back with a new podcast episode in two weeks. May we walk this year in peace, joy, trust, and deep compassion for ourselves. 🙏💕✨