Let the Rain Pour Down Your Throat

Surrender as the cool cloth that puts out the fever of fear.

Hello Beautifuls!

Welcome to all of you wonderful new subscribers this week! I am humbled and delighted that so many of you are finding this Substack (it’s a big world out there) and taking the time to subscribe and read and comment.

It is all of you who are making this community what it is.

I am thrilled you are here. Your love and support and conversations mean the world to me. 🙏

Did you know that if you ❤️ this post (or share or restack it) it helps others discover Hello Beautifuls?

---

Me and my mom, January 1976

Home seems to be a theme for me these days, especially in light of the tumultuous political landscape of our country. As a former expat, I am perhaps more ready than some to think of leaving as a solution.

I loved living outside of the US. I did not, however love foreign banking or bill paying. Living in a small tropical country puts into relief how streamlined the US is, but it comes at a cost. Getting things done is easy here. The underbelly of this ease is that we’re all crumpling beneath the weight of so much fastness, and we’ve lost our ability to be still, to wait, to have conversations instead of transactions.

But I didn’t move back for easy banking or fast lines. I missed something that cannot be found unless I live here, and that is time with people I love.

Yesterday, I flew from Austin to visit my mom in Indiana. She's been here 20 years and even though I didn't grow up in this house, have never lived in Indiana, it is the closest I have to coming home—which reminds me of this recent post in which I share a sweet moment with my dad as I search for the meaning of home. 

I have been thinking and writing about home for years now, where we find it, how we create it, why we long for it. 

Last week, in her *Letters from Love Substack,

Elizabeth Gilbert

asked the question, "Dear Love, how can I find shelter from the storm?"

It's a question I've been asking myself for most of my life, and my brain never comes up with answers as clear or as beautiful as my heart. 

So, in these times of chaos and tumult, I want to share what I hope is a little bit of calm for your hearts. The idea in writing these letters to ourselves is to sink into a space that is heart, but that is also bigger than heart and write from there.

Infinite heart filled with unconditional love. 

Here is my Letter from Love: Dear Love, how can I find shelter from the storm?" Read this letter as if it were written to you. Because it was.

Oh honey, my sweet pumpkin muffin, there is no shelter and all there is is shelter. But that seems too simple and too big all at the same time, doesn't it?

Shelter, my sweet dollbaby, is found in love and not just me, capital L-love, but love, the love of your friends: the love you offer to them, and the love they offer back. Go swim in that, sweet turtle, swim in that, because you are here to experience love in its human form. You know Love in its capital form, because you are Love in its capital form. You are made of the love that comes without conditions, without qualifiers and modifiers, and that's why you're here my dove, to remember and to bask in that. 

I know, I know, how hard you want to change the course of things, how you ache that others don't feel Love the way you do, how you wish it were all different. I heard you this morning, your pleading voice as you told your husband you longed for an analog world, before the internet, before texting and Instagram. I know, my love, how overwhelmed you are right now with the world, but take solace in the words we whispered to Lizzie, the world was not meant to be safe, and you are not meant to fix it. 

Does that mean you should not stand up and fight? Maybe. What does your heart want to do? Does it want to fight or does it want to love more? Does it want to be fueled by anger and righteousness or by love and surrender? There is no judgement in your answer, little cricket, either way. 

A note on surrender. We know you often think of surrender as weak, and that's a human thing you do. Surrender is the bravest of brave actions for you here in Earth School. Because surrender breaks you wide open. Surrender is the cool cloth that puts out the fever of fear. When there is surrender, there can be no fear. And that, pumpkin, is what I know you deeply desire. To no longer be afraid. Of what is coming for your country, of what has already come, of what you cannot undo, of what you cannot do in the future. So much fear, my love. 

The shelter, from all of this, is not to escape from the storm, to hide under your clothes on the closet floor, as I know you've done, and though soothing at the time, did not, in the long run, allay your fears. The shelter, my love, is to go out in the storm. To sit under the lightning, to let the thunder pulse through your veins, to open your mouth and let the rain pour down your throat and to laugh, my dear. To laugh and to run and to shout in the downpour and to love yourself into the oblivion of Love. 

It is the same for what's happening in the news my love, in the whole world, at the funeral you attended yesterday, on the freeway, anywhere and everywhere, the answer to sheltering from the storm, is not to shrink my little violet, it is to simply be.

To be still, to breathe, to be and to love, whatever you can in each moment, as much as you can. There is always one thing to love, even in those you loathe, even in those you fear, and that, my sweet, is Love itself. It is always there, whether you can see it or not. Remember that sweet angel, because that is where you bloom and when you are blooming, there is no need to seek shelter. 

🦋If you enjoyed reading this, try subscribing.

Hello Beautifuls is getting more juicy all the time! And the beautiful readers here are building a community of people who are kind, generous and loving. I hope you’ll join us.💕

My mom holding me, 4 months. Notice the scraggly tall dieffenbachia plant in the background. She still has this plant in the corner of her living room. Sometimes just a plant can be home.

Read the piece I wrote in response to Liz Gilbert’s quote:

*If you don't know about Lizzie (that's what we call her over there at LFL, it's a very intimate and lovely space) and her Letters from Love, pop on over and see what's happening.

With so much Love,

Jocelyn xo