Hello Beautifuls,
I wasn’t sure what to write today, there is so much I want to say. So I got still and asked Love to tell me what to say. Read on and you’ll see what I’m talking about.
I love each and every one of you.
Back in early February, before we decided to move, I began writing myself love notes on my bathroom mirror. Not just a sticky note here or there, but a message written in pastel crayon that took up the entire three foot by five foot mirror. I didn't practice these or edit them. I just tried to get in tune with some part of me that is wiser, calmer, more sure of herself, more kind to herself and then wrote down a message that came to me from this place of love.
Here is one from March 18:
Hello Gorgeous! You are not here to do or make or create, though those are fine pursuits, as long as you realize you are the creation. The reason you are here is to bask in the light and beauty of yourself and to love yourself, fully, wholeheartedly, unconditionally. I love you.
And one that I find embarrassing to share, because who writes these things to themselves?
February 24:
Hello Gorgeous!
I am so amazed by you! You light up the world with your entire being. I am honored to know you. I love you.
But it felt true and daring and subversive. I would write this to a friend, why not to myself? Oh, the why nots are loud and boisterous aren't they? It's too bold, it's so full of yourself, it's rude, it's ugly, you can't love yourself that way, that kind of love is for others, on and on and on. That's why I'm sharing it, I think. To give it more voice than the why nots.
That mirror love entry sums up how I felt about my dog, Caly. I try to summon the feelings of pure delight and adoration I have for her when I'm doing a loving kindness meditation or anytime I'm trying to feel love for myself. I find this a challenging practice. What is that moment when we feel a surge of love for another living thing? How do we summon that for ourselves in a culture where we are taught the practice of self recrimination, badgering, hate and cruel self talk?
I just learned that self hatred is not a foundational human characteristic. We are not born hating ourselves, our bodies, our status, our minds.
Sharon Salzburg, the meditation teacher and creator of lovingkindness meditation, sat in a room full of western doctors, philosophers and meditators in 1990 in an audience with the Dalai Lama. She asked him, "What do you think about self-hatred?" He paused and asked his translator for help. Not getting clarity, he asked again. Still not recognizing the question, he asked again. Repeatedly, the Dalai Lama asked for clarification, for help understanding the question. Finally, he asked Sharon, in English, "Self-hatred? What is that?" She noticed the westerners in the room had all tuned in when she asked her question, eager for an answer to something they all understood well.
The Dalai Lama, however, didn't understand. He wasn't attenuated to this behavior. He had never experienced it in his own life. He spent the remainder of his time with Sharon's group asking more questions and probing for an understanding of this behavior in his western audience. He ended the session saying, “I thought I had a very good acquaintance with the mind, but now I feel quite ignorant. I find this [self hatred] very, very strange.”
I read this just a week ago, and it struck me in such a profound way. There was at least one person in the world, someone who appears to be joyful and at peace, even while he attends to issues of tragedy and gravity on the world stage, who had never experienced self hatred. Never said something mean to himself, never disparaged himself.
What the literal f***k.
This was something taught to me? To us? I was both enraged and awestruck. That part of me that knows I am light and love - that all of us are light and love - was cheering in the background, so excited to be seen. But there was another part of me that was so angry.
They say that women in perimenopause can be prone to periods of rage. As their bodies produce less progesterone, estrogen becomes more dominant, causing feelings of anger, rage, irritation and impatience that come on fast and hard. I'm sure this is true. I also think we're just mad. We're finally coming to terms with a lifetime of anger that we weren't allowed to express - most women, even those of us born in the 70s, were taught all the cliches, nice girls don't do this, and they don't do that, but what they do is make sure everyone else is okay, they don't rock the boat, they let the mansplaining run rampant, they take the harassment, they take the lower pay, they take their rights over their bodies being taken away, given back, taken away, they give up their creative lives to be mothers and wives - let's not even pretend that there is such a thing as being able to have it all. If you're a woman with a job and children, you are sacrificing in all the relationships: career, motherhood, marriage, self. If you're a woman with a job and no children, you're still sacrificing, because you're supposed to be able to do it all, for all the people, all the time (but never yourself). But the one thing you don’t do is get mad. It's no wonder we're rageful.
By the time most of us are experiencing perimenopausal symptoms, we're in our mid to late 40s and early 50s. We're aging out of being young and beautiful and therefore relevant to the male gaze (and let's be honest, the female gaze too, whether we're gay or straight). I honestly find older men attractive. Some more attractive than when they were younger. I can't think of an older woman I find more attractive now that she's aged than when she was young. Was I taught this? Is this some amygdala lizard brain survival thing? I don't know from whence it comes, but I know it's pervasive, dismantling, maddening - and it feels shameful to me.
In our mid lives, we are still caring for children who are grown and possibly having their own babies, while caring for our aging parents or facing the reality that we are going to grow old without parents because we’ve lots them in one way or another or we’re going to grow old without children. While the rage may very well be hormonally helped along, I think it comes from the realization that we've been playing the game, following the rules and then someone has come along and said, okay, you're a middle aged woman now, you can leave. This game isn't for you anymore.
We're left with the freedom to not care anymore but that freedom comes from being dehumanized, from being dismissed and irrelevant. It's a freedom that says since your looks are failing, you can stop trying, you can stop caring what people think, because no one cares what you think or look like anymore. After a lifetime of the entire world caring, it's a shock. And then of course there's the flip side, that if you do stop caring, "let yourself go" as they say, you've given up, you've let go of the one thing that made you valuable. So we're left with the freedom not to care, because we're not so valuable anymore, but the freedom comes with the price of ridicule. If ever there was a catch 22, women who are aging are in it. There's no good way to do it. If we do the Botox and the threads and the fillers and the permanent makeup, we get judged for not aging gracefully or for being fake, selling out, but maybe it buys us a little more time in the game.
If we don't do the things, like me, we might get told we look so good for our age, that we are just one of those women who ages well, or people ignore us all together, because we've done the unthinkable and just let ourselves get old, which makes other people uncomfortable.
But let's talk a little bit here about privilege. Many women color their hair, do their nails, get the Botox, do the fillers, not just because they feel tremendous pressure from all directions, but because if they want to keep their jobs, they can't look old. It's challenging to try and change a system if the system is the only way in which we can support ourselves.
I have the privilege of working for myself, of having a client base who could care less how I look. Maybe it even works to my advantage. Does anyone care what a writer looks like? We look at the back of the book jacket, but if they look old or fat or ugly to us, do we like their writing any less? Nope. So I get to choose not to do the things partly because I don't feel like I have to. It's also partly because I'm lazy - I loathe sitting in a chair for hours on end getting my hair colored. I also don't do the things partly because I'm afraid. I hate making mistakes. I may have gotten better at it, but one of my core lessons as a kid with two perfectionist parents was that mistakes would get me killed - emotionally if not literally, but what's the difference when you're four? I worry that I won't like what I get done - what if it's too much, what if it looks fake, what if I don't look like me. And I worry that I will like it.
I like to know the outcomes, how something is going to go, how long it will take, how long it will last. I am scared that if I start down this path it will never be enough. I'll have to keep doing it forever, and I'll need more and more and more. I desperately want to be the kind of human who doesn't need to look beautiful to anyone else to feel beautiful. I'll let you know when I get there.
So I struggle with the patriarchal and capitalist nature of all of us, not just women, but predominantly women, feeling the necessity to keep ourselves looking young, or make ourselves look better. I mean truly, what is going on with us humans these days? We are so concerned with personal brand and the way we look, we have forgotten how to care for one another and most of us don't really know how to take good care of our true selves - of our inner hearts, of that little light that rejoices at being seen when the Dalai Lama says he doesn't know what self hate is. Well, here's the message. We don't have to hate ourselves. It's a thing our western culture has made up.
Let me say that again. Self hate is a thing we've made up.
It isn't part of our original packaging. It's been created by our western, capitalistic, patriarchal, dare I say Christian, messaging that tells us we are inherently bad and sinful, deserving of punishment and absolutely not enough, never enough. How else could we show up but to berate ourselves on a daily basis?
But maybe there's a light here. Maybe there's a practice that can free us both from caring what we look like to others and lead us to caring how we talk to ourselves - the hope being that eventually this leads us into true communion and community with others.
I have recently become enamored with Elizabeth Gilbert, she of Eat, Pray, Love fame. The book is nearly 20 years old now and I'm just discovering Lizzie's heart (we're on a first name basis now that I've participated in a webinar with her and about 1200 of her closest Substack friends).
This woman has figured something out. She is in tune with her heart in a way that radiates through her entire being and presence, even on a tiny screen over zoom. This woman knows love and its healing power and she knows what it is to be human - a sometimes tired, sore and bruised, but also elated, healing and joyful human. Sometimes all at the same time.
She has started a Substack and I encourage everyone to go spend some time over there. It's a place of beauty and rest and love. She is showing me how to more fully answer that call I heard back in February, of those little messages to self, to tap into and speak to myself from my heart, from the place in me that loves me and thinks I am radiant and just the most incredible little being. What Elizabeth is doing is inviting us to practice loving ourselves. Just a little bit, each day. I learned the story of Sharon and the Dali Lama through her and it opened up my world. In the moment I read that, I realized that I could be angry at all the injustices, and I could listen to that little being inside me who was jumping up and down screaming, "Yes, yes, yes!" to the idea that self hate is a thing we've made up and I can stop now. I can set that bludgeon down and pick up some love instead.
What she is doing is this. She has a practice, every day, of sitting down with her journal and asking, "Dear Love, What is it you would have me know today?" And then she writes the most beautiful love letter to herself. Sounds simple, more challenging to execute. Her trick? She uses pet names. All over the place. And woah, is it uncomfortable at first. I think of all the pet names I gave Caly and it helps me channel some for myself. Her reasoning is that those pet names tap into that child that we were, and still are at our core, who needs reassurance, who needs to know she is loved beyond measure, beyond mistakes. Those pet names do something to us, soften us in a way that is like nothing I've experienced. It's life changing for me, and she says this practice saved her life.
I want to share an Elizabeth Gilbert Dear Love letter with you so you'll know what I'm talking about. This is from her Substack this Sunday.
Dear Love, What would you have me know today?
Slow down, little firefly. Just please, a tiny bit, please do yourself a favor and slow down.
It’s okay every once in a while not to accomplish all the things. Don’t make accomplishment into your God. You are not being graded on your life, dear child. There is no hall monitor. You are not required to show your work. You are not required to provide a list at the end of each day with each item neatly checked off — although I know that’s a thrill for you, when it does happen. But it’s a small thrill, and a passing one. Your desire to get everything done and to make everyone happy and to earn a good grade while you’re at it is what your friend Tererai Trent might call “Little Hungers.” Your Little Hungers, she taught you, are your urges for immediate gratification and validation, your passing wants and petty cravings. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with your Little Hungers (they are part of life) but they will never satisfy you. If anything, they will take you off your true path.
What did Tererai teach you this week? She told you to lean into your Great Hunger. What does your soul really long for, my little horse, standing in a meadow under the gray dawning sky? Beyond accomplishments, big or small — what is your Great Hunger? Beyond the small concerns of the day. Beyond the wish for validation and attention. Beyond your thoughts and regrets. My love, my love — please take some time today and just sit with me. Feel for me, and find me. It is my wisdom that you ultimately hunger for, not just efficiency, productivity, and praise. Your Great Hunger is to know the divinity of Love. To know the kind of Love that is not just a passing show, that can never be lost or taken away, that does need to be earned, and that cannot die.
Come to me for this. Slow down for this. Take time from your hustle and allow my voice to find you. Not every day is meant to be the same. Even the ocean has tides. Slow down today. Become quiet, become curious. What will happen next? What will unfold? Sit with me, and witness the unfolding. This week you will see friends you have not seen in years: who have they become? You will see new scenery. You will meet new trees, new birds. The sweetness of strangers. Don’t miss out on the gifts that are hidden within this time, my angel, because you are too busy keeping on top of things. Let me take care of you. I’ve got you. I’m right here. Love is here. Be very still now. Take a full breath, child. Another. There you go. Here we are.
I love you.
Here is one of mine from this week:
Dear Love, What do you want me to know today?
Sweet little dove, you are on the right path and always have been. You had work to do this lifetime and you are doing it so beautifully. This life, my sweet dove, was never meant to be easy for you. And your message will be all the more powerful for having been a lived experience.
My sweet angel, you are surrounded by love, filled with love, created from love. All you are is love and it is your right to remember that and live from that place and only that place, my sweet. It is all you will ever need in this lifetime my pet - the ability to remember and tap into the love that you are. Nothing but nothing else matters as much, because once you know that place, that source, that generative practice, you can create fully, be love and heal your way through being human.
It is yours and every other being's gift in this place, to know love so intimately it is one with all of your thoughts, all of your actions and to know that everything you do or create is infused with its power.
So begin. I love you.
This is a powerful practice. More powerful than I can put into words. Try it for yourself. Be uncomfortable. Let what comes, come. We are all so powerful, the love that is innate within us more powerful than anything we can conceive of. I know this to be true in my bones and blood.
And if you are feeling like you need even more of this love, What Elizabeth is doing is inviting us all to share our letters on her Substack. You can get lost in a vast sea of self love pouring out from souls so beautifully it will break your heart back together again to feel all this love. Try it.
With all the love in the universe,
Jocelyn
P.S. I want to know if you write letters to yourselves. Will you tell me?
P.P.S. You are welcome to share your letters in the comments on my Substack - there is power in letting others read your love.
P.P.S. You are also welcome to hop on over to EG's substack and share them there. The place doesn’t matter as much as the sharing.