My Dear Friend,
I can’t, of course, put the whole experience into today’s one bottle. The temperature and moisture of the air alone would take up probably a third of it and there’s still the lake and pines and sky. The best I can do is tuck in a couple glimpses. So that’s what I do. It takes more than the hour I thought I’d spend when the whole thing began. But every minute of it is rich, given that it’s a gift of love.
I leave it in the hands of the universe to get it to its final destination, to those who need exactly what it brings. My only job is to make sure I send something, that I choose what to enclose in the love note each day. To be honest, I’m not even sure I’m really the one who does the choosing. It feels more like listening for a hunch sometimes and going with that.
I like hunches. I like their spontaneity. They’re like a small bell ringing, right over there in the clearing, or like a kid tugging at your shirt tail. It’s easy to disregard them, to brush them off. It took me years to learn that hunches almost always take me to the exactly right place. Now I turn where they direct with a kind of eager anticipation to see how things will turn out.
Sometimes you have to make a leap of faith in order to follow a hunch. It can feel scary to do something you’ve never done before, to take a turn down an unfamiliar road. But if you have no faith, you miss out on a lot of life’s fun and adventure, to say the least.
Besides, the same agency that sends out the hunches sends out alarms if the risk is something you need to weigh with a measure of care. Over time you learn what level of risk you’re willing and confident enough to take. It’s a kind of skill you develop with experience.
When I’m out taking photos, for instance, I get a hunch that if I stood over that way about ten feet, the angle would be fabulous. But then an alarm goes off and cautions me to note the slippery mud on the rocks and to test their stability as I make my way along.
From a certain point of view, all of life is a risk/reward proposition. You take the risk of drawing your first breath, letting out your first scream, and you’re on your way. Everything from there on is a reward, even if it takes you a few lifetimes to see how that can be. It’s all a gift. It’s all benevolent in the long run. Even the parts that hurt.
Next Saturday, good Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise, I’ll complete my 100 day challenge. It’s been interesting to see how it’s evolved. It’s an established habit for me now, finding something to send out, in love, every day. I think I’m just getting started.
And next Sunday, you’ll have another letter from me, sharing whatever observations my hunches lead me to find.
I’m so glad that you’re along for the journey.
Warmly,
Susan