How?

Find a quiet moment, when you can still your thoughts a bit.

If you are feeling separated from love, maybe read a poem or a piece of writing that moves you and opens your heart, or think about a person or an animal who you find easy to love. Let your heart soften.

Open up a notebook (I find it’s most intimate to write this by hand, but you can use a laptop if you like) and write down this one question:

Dear Love — What would you have me know today?

And then allow the answer to come. What would the spirit of unconditional love tell you, if it had a voice? What does your heart need to hear today, in this exact moment? Where is the suffering, and what does it long to be told? What reassurance or comfort does your spirit need? Let the words come.

If you are feeling stuck, imagine what you would say to a dear and beloved friend, if they needed comfort or reassurance. Write those words — but to yourself.

Don’t overthink this. Don’t work on this. Don’t take more than five minutes to write — or else it will stop being an intuitive practice, and it will start being an intellectual one. The goal here is to put your brain on a shelf and connect with love directly. After all, this is heart work, not head work.

And don’t try to do any fancy writing. This isn’t a place to show what a gifted writer you are. This is not meant to be artful. It is just a practice in which you reach out to your own soul, from your own heart, from a position of simple friendliness and affection.

If the practice feels self-conscious or unnatural, just think for a minute about how easy it is to listen to and believe your most negative thoughts. We tend not to question the legitimacy of those critical, cynical voices, do we? You can ask those voices to step aside for a bit. Tell them you’ll be back; they’ll still be there waiting, though my hope is that they become weaker with every letter. Give it a try, just for a few minutes.

Another way to tap into your direct line to love is to use endearments for yourself. It is human nature to create sweet nicknames for people and animals we love but so rare that we apply them to ourselves. In the first few days of this public exercise, I was delighted to read letters here in which people referred to themselves as: my little pebble, my pal, my sweetest baby birdie, little piglet, my little pot sticker, honey, pookie, my little humbug, my Valkyrie, sweet pea, my little boy, my anxious little squirrel. (It is very easy to love this community!) Have fun with your endearments — try to be truly open without fear or embarrassment. In other words, let your guard down, my anxious little squirrels.

If the practice still feels unnatural to you, let it go for right now. Try again in an hour, or in a day, or in a week. Love will be there waiting for you, and so will we.