Posts Tagged ‘letter’

Love letter: Rest

I really enjoyed the April Love 2016 prompts.  Doing this reminded me that sometimes the key to creativity is starting with a simple concept. This is the first one I did.  


Rest. Created on April 7, 2016, Watercolor. 


Dear Rest:

I am grateful for the breaks you give me, the deep breaths, the permission to close my eyes. Thank you for giving me space to nourish myself and restore my energy.


Love Letter: Sanctuary 

Dear Sanctuary, 

I remember: when I was younger, I imagined cutting a hole in the air and escaping to a place that was simply mine, like a tree house I could go to whenever things felt like too much. Throughout the years, I’ve found you in other places, too – in nature, in the arms of someone I love and trust, in creating a cozy dark place when I need a sensory break. I’ve found you in the walls of places that I’ve called home. I’ve also found you within myself: in the reassurance of a breath, a taking a moment to step away, in my own company. I find you as I move my feet across the dance floor, as I do my mindfulness practice, when I take a moment to sit by my altar and light a candle.  

Sanctuary, sometimes I lose sight of you and feel like my defenses break down, when I forget that I can give myself permission to seek you out. There have been times when I’ve lost sight of hope and also lost sight of you, where no place or situation felt safe. I realize that when I lose sight of you, I often lose sight of myself.  

Sanctuary: May I remember to access you when I most need you, to treasure your restorative powers, your sense of safety. May I continue to find you in places both inside and outside of myself.  

Love letter: Change

Dear Change,


Changing, shifting.  Watercolor on paper, April 2016.

You are a great raveler and unraveler, creator and destroyer.  You don’t often let me get too comfortable.  You are consistent and constant.  You are sometimes harmonic, sometimes dissonant; sometimes quiet, sometimes loud.

In the past, I have intentionally invited you along to all my efforts to improve myself and my life, to become the person I thought I wanted to be.  Sometimes you walked beside me, and then sometimes you had other ideas for how things would unfold.  I realize now that you, change, are not something I need to enforce or force.  I can still have hopes and goals for myself without hurdling myself into potential obstacles at full speed for the sake of transformation.  Change, you are still there, whether I create an intention or not.

Change, I know you will be beside me as I make new choices.  You will be there as I move into a new place with my love.  You have been with us as we’ve evolved over the past 8+ years, throughout joy and heartache.  You haven’t always seemed like an ally, but you’ve taught us a lot.  You’ve challenged us to continue to communicate and work together more effectively as individuals and as a couple.

Change, I have to admit that I sometimes resent you.  I fall into secure patterns and then you shake things up and shift my reality.  It takes me time to adjust.  Sometimes I think you are sneaky – but then maybe you are just being yourself.  When I have perspective, I see you both give and take away.  You definitely keep life interesting.

Change, I see you everywhere.  I may not always feel at peace with your influence, but I can accept that you will be there through ups and downs; through phases and choices; through seasons and years.


Love letter: Courage.

Lion - watermarked

Lion – courage – card from my personal oracle card deck

Dear Courage,

I remember holding my new stuffed animal, a lion, tightly to my chest. My mom had given it to me because I had just flown alone for the first time – to move to Oregon to live with her. I was eight years old. “You are so brave,” she said.

I took courage from the spirit of the lion, whispering to myself that I was brave, courageous. Courage, I needed you so many times throughout the years, through moving states and schools, through my awkward adolescent years, as I grew up and tried to find my way in the world. And often, you whispered back, you will get through this. Just hold on.

Courage, you aren’t always this bold and bright spirit, brought out for situations like public speaking (although certainly you are a wonderful ally in those situations). Sometimes I feel you like soft arms holding me. I remember reading this quote, framed on the bathroom wall: “Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.” – Mary Anne Radmacher. I took heart in that message as I went through a holistic healing program, as I lived in community and approached process after process. I found I needed you most when I went into crisis, where others told me that courage was choosing to leap and face the flames. You came and stood beside me as I crumbled, as I started to realize that getting help, and then leaving, was the best option for me. You reminded me that I define what courage is for me.

You have been with me through depression, through tears, through laughter, through choosing love. You don’t push me to overcome anxiety and fear, but to acknowledge them, make informed decisions, and keep going. Thank you for your fierceness, for your softness, for being such a powerful ally.

Love letter: Senses 

sensesImage of Senses:  from bottom center clockwise:  proprioception (sense of self in space), taste, vestibular system (sense of balance), auditory/hearing, tactile/touch, smell, interoception (sensing internal responses such as hunger, etc), and vision/sight.

Dear Senses,

I’ve known you were heightened, that your volume was turned up in many ways, for quite awhile.  I didn’t know exactly how much effort and energy it was taking you, taking us, just to feel and be aware.  I’m glad I know you better, that I’m no longer trying to override you or shut you out.  I’m glad you’re slowly adjusting with me as we go through occupational and vision therapy.  I know it’s exhausting, and I know sometimes you want to – and do – shut down.  Thanks for sticking with me through all these changes.

I’m so glad we have tools now to help us, including the weighted blanked and the Wilbarger brush. I once thought that doing sensory integration work would dull and numb my senses, but I think you are getting clearer and brighter.  I’m more clear about the messages you give me, I’m more aware when we’re getting flooded, and I know what can best soothe us.

Thank you, senses, for being so strong that I can sense energy around me; take in vivid colors with my eyes; taste something delicious and have a near-erotic experience;  hear the intricate layers of music; when my love touches me it’s like every fiber of my being is singing yes with pleasure.

Thank you for taking care of me, for alerting me to possible dangers.

I am so grateful for you.

Love letter: Dear Future Me


Dear future me,

I hope you’ve found more peace of mind.

Love letter: Feet


Dear Feet,

I spent years being frustrated with your collapsing arches and tendency to turn in pigeon-toed.  I concentrated on fixing you more than treating you with respect for how you carry my weight, how you connect with the ground, how you are such great instruments for movement.  You are such a great support for me.

I love that we’re closer now, especially as we’ve explored Nia together and learned to dance in new ways.  We’ve experimented with balance, learning how to lead with the heel, stepping with the whole foot, stretching out into the ball of the foot.  I am grateful for all your bones and muscles and how each has a purpose and its own strength.

I appreciate the calluses you’ve grown to protect me.  I love when I can take shoes and socks off and allow us to be and feel free.  I love the feel of dirt on your soles – it helps me feel more centered and connected with the earth.

Thank you for each step you take, for your strength and stability.  Thank you for being with me as I’ve lost balance, fallen, and gotten up again.

With love,


Feet is the prompt from Day #3 of April Love 2016.  For more information, go here.