LETTERS FROM LOVE — With Special Guest Brooke Baldwin!

The truth has legs

Hello Lovelets! 

Welcome to another week in Earth School! You’re doing GREAT! I love you!

Hey, have you all ever read the epigram for EAT PRAY LOVE? Right there at the beginning of the book, you will see this quote, from my dear friend Sheryl Moller: “Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth.”

Sheryl said these words to me one night in the shoe closet of the meditation center where we had been going on Tuesday evenings for chanting and meditation practice. Except that on this one particular night, I had fled the meditation hall and ran to hide in the closet because I couldn’t stop crying. My life was falling apart. My marriage was falling apart. I was in love with a man who could not love me back. I did not want to have a baby, and everyone was waiting for me to have a baby. I hated the house I was living in — a house that I had bought with my own hard-earned money only a few months earlier. I hadn’t slept well in months. I was lost, utterly lost.

And my friend Sheryl, whom I did not even know particularly well at the time, came into that shoe closet, took my hands, smiled at me with infinite compassion, and said these magic words: “Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth.”

And so I did. I mean, not immediately. And not fully. And not gracefully. But I did tell the truth eventually. As well as I was able to. As completely as I was able to. It was clumsy. It was imperfect. I lost a lot of people in the process — as I always seem to do, whenever I tell the truth. But I did it.

And the only reason I did it was because I could hear the voice of Unconditional Love, telling me, “I will love you always, no matter how well or how poorly you tell the truth, and no matter how well or how poorly people receive it.”

It is not the truth that has set me free, again and again in life: it is Love.

Our special guest this week is Brooke Baldwin — who very bravely, very recently, finally told the truth about why she left her job at CNN. And who is, it turns out, a Lovelet! (They are everywhere! We are everywhere!)

Our other special guest this week is Pepita, my new doggy.

She is resting right now on a heated blanket, surrounded by pillows, because she’s had a rough journey — but now she is home, surrounded by love.

I hope you are resting as well.

I adore you all.

Love,

Your Lizzy

Dear Love, what would you have me know about telling the truth?

Oh my dear, determined, precious toddler. The truth is a very nice thing, but please don’t go making a fetish out of it.

I know, I know. I know!

I know you have spent your life trying to become someone who is, as they say in the rooms of 12-step recovery, “rigorously honest” — and that is noble and honorable, and your determination has served you well in this regard, but when have I ever told you to be rigorous about anything? When have ever I told you to be noble and honorable all the time?

I mean, you can be rigorous and noble and honorable if you want to, but that’s not really my domain. That is not the domain of unconditional love. Nor is it a requirement in order to win my love or approval.

The truth can be a beautiful thing, sweetie, but sometimes it’s more subjective than you think, so just be careful where you step. Be careful with yourself. Be careful of righteousness. Be careful of certainty. Righteousness and certainty are not necessarily synonymous with unconditional love.

The truth can be a gorgeous blazing torch but you’ve seen it weaponized — so again, be careful. Move gently. Try not to burn down too many forests as you blaze your way forward.

That said, honeybunch, I know you have told some very hard and dangerous truths in your life, even recently, and that there have been some consequences in certain relationships as a result. I know that these consequences have hurt your feelings. I know that you have told the truth sometimes with a twisted stomach and white-knuckled hands, suffering so much in the process that you have wanted to throw up or run for the hills, or run for the hills and throw up all over them. . . but you did it. You did it. You said what you needed to say. And other people had their own reactions, of course, as they are entitled to have, and sometimes you lost people as a result. Or at least that’s how you would like to word it — using the language of scarcity and loss instead of the language of acceptance and allowing.

What gave you the courage to tell the truth in those circumstances? Was it your great moral rectitude? Your battlefield resolve and your nerves of steel? Or was it my voice in your ear, saying, “I will love you, my darling child, however this turns out. I will love you.”

Without an awareness of my love, you would never have had the courage to be honest with anyone, ever. Unconditional Love, my dear, is the foundation beneath any courage you may now possess, or ever have possessed.

And yes, in your parlance, you have lost people for telling the truth. Sure you have. That is the way of things in Earth School. Sweet translucent dragonfly, I ask you to have the acceptance and wisdom to let people come and go in your life freely, and to have their own truths, their own versions, their own opinions. I mean, you might as well accept it, because other people’s truths and opinions will always be part of reality — and when have I ever instructed you to try to change anybody? When have I ever instructed you to fight against reality?

So, tell the truth. But soften. Soften the grip you hold on your blazing torch of righteousness. Soften your clench of fear. Soften your resentments against those who see things differently than you do.

Does it surprise you that I speak this way? Should it? Baby girl, what would you expect me to say here, knowing me as you do, except, “Do your best, my child. Do your best, and come to me for reassurance whenever you are afraid.”

But here’s the main thing: I will never leave you, no matter what. Whether you can or cannot tell the truth, however people receive it. I will never leave you, no matter what.

I will always love you.

And that, my tiny Rubik’s cube spinning in moral confusion, is the only truth we will ever need to discuss here.

I love you. You’re doing great. Everyone is. Let’s keep going.

Love, LOVE

Prompt

This week, as you still yourself to write a letter, you can try posing any of a number of questions about truth telling: Dear Love, what would you have me know about telling the truth? Or Dear Love, what would you have me know about a truth I am not telling myself? Or Dear Love, what would you have me know about how to tell Person A about Thing B? As always, this prompt is infinitely customizable, and I suspect, especially with this sensitive and personal subject, you will know *exactly* what specific guidance to ask for here. Good luck, truth seekers.

This is the level of love we are seeking to show ourselves. Love yourself as if you are a tiny rescue pup carried in a sling by a very kind middle-aged lady!

If you are looking for your own ball of furry love, or if you want to vicariously enjoy some from afar, or if you just need an occasional shot of dopamine, I highly recommend you check out the good work being done by Tobie’s Small Dog Rescue in Los Angeles. That’s where I got Pepita!

Thank you for all the good work you do, Tobie’s! You can find profiles of recently adopted and waiting-to-be-adopted rescue dogs here: Tobie’s on Instagram.