As an investment in my writer-self during a very busy time of life (so much inner work, so much school-aged kid fun and busyness!), I signed up for a Julia Cameron (THE ARTIST’S WAY author) seminar. One of our assignments was to write letters to ourselves, one from our 80 year old self and one from our 8 year old self. I liked what came out, and they capture the phase I’m in as I prepare for New Year’s Day (July 12th, in my world.) AND I’ve been wanting to get a blog post or two per week flowing into the world again! I’m still recovering from having the five pieces of hardware removed my foot, so this was a nice thing to make happen from my sick bed (AKA, swing chair on the deck).
June 26, 2063
Dear Jessica,
I remember how today you were stressing (to sort of a large degree) about whether or not/how to celebrate your 40th birthday. You were so tired then. Surgeries, injuries. Of course, this sweet body of ours still isn’t doing great, but that’s because we’ll always be a ballerina, always be wanting to feel the extremes, good and bad. But, for how much we’ve been through, I’m pretty proud of this long cottonwood tree with all its glitter and limber strength. Take good care of her, the body. She is more precious and more on your team than you understand yet. But you’re beginning to get it.
I’m so proud of you for everything you are doing to keep yourself alive, spiritually and physically, artistically and creatively. It’s hard work, like planting seeds in cold ground or pausing to collect and put up the berries when the beach is right there calling to you with all its boisterous, immediate, splashing promise, all the threat of turning graphite-slow, making you wait again. I am grateful that you fed and watered that little germ of a soul, that you took time to discern whose you are in addition to who. Because I am calm—like a weaned child is that soul within me. And the ear that God tuned in you to hear God-voice hears more clearly by the year. You only know the half of how loved you are and how near God is to you. God’s nearness hasn’t changed. Our awareness has.
You are so smart! You have great ideas, and I’m again grateful that you let yourself do what sounds good to you. Sure, you’re distracted by excuses, but not nearly as much as you think you are. Right now you’re entering into a great season of balance. You won’t regret the time you spent on anything. The only thing in your way is the threat of drinking too much. Because it dulls you. You don’t need the dulling. You can handle every sharp pain or dazzlingly bright ambition. You already know what I most fear: the adult children wondering if we love them, wondering why we weren’t their champion.
Please make your work. It is excellent and precious. Fistfuls of dandelions are sufficient, even a cold heart. God will take and tend anything you offer. God has been faithful to us all the days of our life.
Love and gentle pats to the top of your sweet head, strong hugs from my clayed arms and bony claw that presses so hard into your brachial artery you can’t decide if it’s great or awful (it’s great)-
Jessica
With two of my grandmother’s on my wedding day. Pretty sure neither was 80 yet!
June 26th, 1991
HI!
Our birthday is in 16 days! Best day of the year! Do you want to have birthday parties still? I bet you’ll wear a fancy outfit—maybe two! Like there will be a part underneath the first part, and you’ll take the first part off and the under part is a surprise with, like, rhinestones or something. I hope you still like French fries.
Do you listen to kids? Really, really listen to them, not in that “uh-huh, uh-huh, that’s nice, honey” way? And I hope you still do crafts because you’re probably really, really good at them by now, like beads and sewing and stuff. Are you on TV? Probably not, but I hope you are, and I hope you make people laugh and feel good, like everything is a little better when your show is on. (I know you aren’t a dancer, but I don’t need to talk about that. It’s ok. That had boring parts anyway.) Are you married? Do you hold hands?
Are you rich? If you are, that’s crazy. Don’t get an attitude, and you better give lots of stuff away and do hard things still. Don’t be all “oh, I’m too fancy” about anything. ANYTHING. Your kids won’t be nice if you get like that. Or they’ll just be embarrassed of you. Do they like you? Are they excited to see what you’re working on? Do you get excited to tell them about it? You should let them get cokes and bring them French fries because obviously that’s what feels good to kids.
Please don’t be sad or mean. If you are, just be sure to apologize or explain it later and try not to keep being that way. If I’m as brave as I am now, old you can do whatever stuff you think you can. It’s embarrassing sometimes, but you’ll just be sad if you never do anything. Or you’ll be mad and wonder “oh, boo-hoo. How come I can’t be on TV?” And then you’ll be crabby at people but it’ll be for no reason b/c you’re an adult, and things aren’t other people’s fault all the time. Try to enjoy things and relax.
Love (and hoping you don’t turn out mean),
Jessica
I think this is 4 years old.
May 1991 Recital