Love Letters for My Soul

Taking a break from COVID, racism, equity and other heavy things this week, my friends.  It’s too much, what with RBG’s recurrent metastatic cancer and John Lewis’s death.  I’ve been glued to my phone and computers all week, reading, digesting, observing, integrating, posting, connecting and conversing.  I had at least three important ideas for the blog, and they all need to marinate longer.

But I still had to write!  I owe letters to three friends, and they can wait.  What needed doing tonight were five love letters to strangers. 

Sometime this spring, while sheltering at home, I discovered More Love Letters.  Their mission is simple:

Deliver hand written letters to people who could use some extra love via snail mail.

People submit nominations for letter recipients, and every month the MLL team selects five to post.  Each recipient’s nominator writes a heartfelt request, and supplies an address.  Letters are requested to be postmarked by the last day of the month (but I bet they’d take some tardy ones, because they are sent with love?).  Tonight I wrote my second ever set of love letters, on washi tape stationery, of course.  I may have more cards and tape than I will use in my lifetime, so I’m more than happy to share!  Maybe next month I will include a blank card and envelope as a gift for the recipient to pass along—I’ll even put a stamp on it!

In this time of tumult and conflict, of heaviness and stress, reaching out to offer some light to others heals me.  They will not know who I am (well, unless they happen to read this post, I guess), and I will not get a card back in reply.  I get to write some encouraging words that might brighten someone’s day.  But I do it for myself as much as for them.

Maybe you could use a mutual pick-me-up, too?  Each one took less than five minutes.  The words came easily, organically, and happily.  “Holding you in light,” “Sending love and support,” “Wishing you everything you need in this crazy time.” Easy peasy, written sincerely–it feels so good.  You don’t have to write to all five nominees—do what moves you.  Maybe you’ll be inspired to also drop a note to your best friend, your colleague who’s challenged, or someone who recently crossed your mind, who’d probably love to know you were thinking of them.

Now is exactly the time to connect, don’t you think?

Oh and I have no financial or other interests in this organization. I just love that they encourage connection and snail mail, two of my favorite things.

November 25:  My Journals Make Me Better

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NaBloPoMo 2019

“You both have multiple journals that are all partially written in?” I asked, feeling vaguely twitchy.

On an online forum where I like to think I’m making new friends, three of us have bonded over our shared love of journals.  I wrote to the group last week, “I may have almost as many blank journals as I have books–the potential in them, the invitation to fill them with experience and life–they just make me so happy.”  The other two musketeers described their journals of various sizes, shapes, and designs, scattered about their homes.  They get written in whenever inspiration strikes.

That idea made me a little uncomfortable—that thoughts and ideas might be strewn about in different books, lying randomly around a home, disconnected, alone!  Hence the question above that I keyboard-blurted tonight.  I thought at first, “I can’t do that.”  Then I realized, I do do that—I have at least 4 journals going at the same time.  But I do organize them (not that my friends don’t—I have asked them to clarify).  I have a personal one, where I keep all original content. This one has at least three different designs of washi tape tabs, for blog ideas, presentation ideas, and other recurrent themes.  One is for work–a record of meetings, tasks, initiatives and their progress.  In a third I take notes at conferences or other formal learning.  Yet another holds insights from coaching calls and exercises from LOH.  I carry at least two, sometimes all, of them around with me every day. It’s common for me to have at least two out and be writing in both of them at the same time–taking notes from a meeting or presentation in one, then writing reflections, insights, and revelations in the other.  I often flip them over and write from the back covers, to keep lists and other short, serial records.  I attach email printouts and sticky notes, and when I reread I highlight and write in the margins.  These are well-used and well-loved books.

***

In 2010 I went to a Mindfulness in Medical Education retreat.  I was physically ill that week with a respiratory virus.  But I had been mentally and emotionally unwell for months, turbulent and restless inside.  All I could do was ruminate, turning thoughts, conversations, and memories over, raking the same terrain, uncovering nothing new, no insights to show for all that psychic energy spent.  On the first night of the retreat we were given some quiet time and a pad of paper.  I filled my mug with hot tea, climbed into the bay window, and started writing.  For a month I had had inexplicable and persistent cubital tunnel syndrome—inflammation of the ulnar nerve at my right elbow that caused such sensitivity and pain in my forearm that I could hardly stand wearing long sleeves.  That night I unloaded the whole of my pent up frustrations onto that legal pad, many pages worth—a total brain dump.  I always journaled growing up, and somehow it had been years since I had last penned for myself.  I had forgotten how cathartic, how therapeutic, it was.  The next morning my arm felt normal.  I have kept a journal ever since, and that pain has never recurred.

***

Another friend mentioned recently that he may leave his house without his wallet or his keys, but he never steps out the door without his journal.  I can totally relate!  Now I suspect there are more of us than I thought.  It’s the most satisfying feeling to have a reliable, accessible repository to record insights, ideas, and discernments, whenever they occur.  When I cannot do this—usually when I’m driving—it’s like having to pee until I can get out the journal at the next stoplight (or pull over).  It occurs to me occasionally to stop accumulating blank journals.  I’ve already set a moratorium on buying yoga pants and washi tape (for now).  But if a blank journal calls to me, I will buy it.  It’s good for my soul.

November 20:  A Little Profanity Makes Me Better

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NaBloPoMo 2019

I swear I was surrounded by idiots today.  Not at work or home…  Mostly on the roads.  It started early, my friends, and they were everywhere.  Is the moon full?  Maybe there’s a toxic gas leak somewhere?  I found myself aggravated before I even got to the office, where usual hiccups in schedule and daily operations continued to poke my inner rage monster.

*deep breath*

Thankfully, I have learned a few helpful strategies over the years.

One is to vocalize.  There is a reason babies and little kids cry and scream at the drop of a hat.  It’s the most efficient way to discharge an acute emotion.  Then it’s over and they can get on with playing and learning.  As adults, this isn’t socially acceptable most the time.  But in the privacy of one’s own car, it can help.  After the fourth or fifth encounter with the truly insane on my morning commute, I growled.  It was not a planned, but I’m doing it more often over the years, perhaps.  It was spontaneous, and I noticed instant release and relief.  Then I literally chuckled a little.  I continued on my way and forgot about those vehicular fools.  I even found a little charity—must be the weather, or that toxic gas.

A dear friend recommended a book this year, The 15 Commitments of Conscious Leadership, which I love.  The third commitment is ‘Feeling all the Feelings’.  The authors explain: “Feeling a feeling all the way through means letting that feeling have its full life cycle (less than 90 seconds) by breathing, moving and vocalizing, resting in calmness, and riding the next wave through to completion.”  In other words, rather than repressing, denying, or wallowing in our emotions, we can acknowledge, identify, accept, honor, and release them.  Then they don’t rule us, driving us to hurtful action, damaged relationships, and toxic work environments.

Here is their method:

When a feeling arises, pause and…

  • Locate the sensation in your body. What are the ‘bits’ doing?
  • Breathe and allow the bits to simply do what they do.
  • Move and/or make a sound to match what the bits are doing.

Sometimes the bits need something more than private growl.

Recall the daily work hiccups.  Most of the time, I can roll with them easily.  I am blessed with a truly amazing team—flexible and smart, able to anticipate patients’ and my needs with keen precision.  But today was a true aberration for me—my already tenuous mental state (apparently not yet resolved) unraveled quickly in the first hour of work.  So, in the safety of the workroom, surrounded by the team I knew could hold the space, I let loose at least two or three sonorous f-bombs, accompanied by some appropriately expressive full-body gestures.  Not only did the team tolerate the outburst, they offered loving support and encouragement.  “Let it out,” one told me.  Once again, I felt instantly better.  I took a deep breath, thanked them, exited the Cave of Camaraderie, and faced the rest of my day with exponentially more grace and generosity.

It was not my best moment.  I should apologize for making anyone feel uncomfortable—cursing in the workroom is not the example of professionalism that I aspire to set.  Still, I don’t regret it.  And it will not become a recurring pattern, I can say with confidence.

Some evidence suggests that swearing raises pain tolerance and relieves stress.  I didn’t lash out at anyone, I didn’t destroy any property.  But my little episode helped me regroup, get my head on straight, and show up my best for my patients today.

Looking back, there were probably no more insane drivers out today than any other day. I will reflect more on what I brought to this day that created my experience. I attribute my ability to approach this reflection with calm and intention to the freedom from emotional tumult that vocalization and a little swearing affords me.

Recent research has shown that swearing while exercising increases physical strength and power.  I may test this self-improvement theory in my workouts this week—in the seclusion of my home gym, of course.