A few days ago, an idea appeared like a butterfly landing on a rose. I wanted to write you a letter once a week and make you happy.
Then I got all tangled up. I began looking for the perfect name for these letters, and I couldn't find it. I became suspicious of my motives, and uncovered some familiar desire-for-affirmation and fantasies-about-fame. I worried that the workaholic part of me was driving me. I started to feel that the whole project was doomed to be an exercise in dysfunction.
Today, after a conversation with a friend, the fog started to clear. Yes, some of what is driving me is coming from fear and not love. And that is also true for most of what we do, most of the time. It doesn't mean that there aren't generous handfuls of love mixed in.
Right now I have re-connected with the purity and simplicity of my original intention. I want to enjoy showing you the egg-yolk-yellow courgette flowers outside my window, and the insistent high-pitched note of the juvenile magpie pestering his parents for food. I want to create a space where I can pause, observe and contemplate, and invite you to do the same. I want to share poems, insights and excellent questions. I want to make you happy.
And so here it is, my first love letter to you.
Things you might be curious about
* What would you like to offer the world? Tidying a corner of your space? Feeding the birds? Making someone a cup of tea? Offering someone a 'thank you'?
* Do you expect your motives to be entirely clear or 'pure' before you act?
* How can you support yourself to give in a way that makes you happy?
Remember: if you want to make progress on the path and ascent to the places you have longed for, the most important thing is not to think much but to love much, and so to do whatever best awakens you to love. ~ Teresa of Avila
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