LETTERS FROM LOVE — With Special Guest Maggie Smith!

Go there and roam

Dear Lovelets —

Have you ever read the epic poem THE GLASS ESSAY, by Anne Carson? A friend sent it to me this week, saying that they read it every winter. I can see why. It’s such a beautiful triumph of writing, in the way that grief and hope and lust and surrender and aging are all beautiful. In the midst of this long, ranging, exploratory poem (which Carson described as “an attempt at understanding what life feels like”) the poet muses about the life of Emily Bronté — so brilliant, so under-served, so restricted by her time, her gender, her culture, her family.

What was it, Carson wondered, that kept Emily writing and alive? Carson reports that Emily had a relationship with someone or something she called “Thou.”

Thou was transparent, but fully present.

Thou influenced, wooed, and loved Emily — speaking “with a voice that comes out of the night wind,” providing a sweetness that “proved us one.”

With a voice like Thou in her head, Carson reflects, how much could Emily ever suffer? How limiting could any perceived limits actually be?

I understand this idea completely and absolutely.

I live by it! And I am alive because of it.

These letters that I write to myself from the spirit of unconditional love — this is my Thou. And I hear Thou in your letters, too — comforting, influencing, wooing, encouraging. In fact, it has become part of my spiritual practice to read all the letters that you post each week. (I don’t always have time to respond to each one, but I read them.) I read them because I want to spend as much time as possible in the presence of Thou — and whether I hear that voice in my own head, or read it through your voices, it’s just as sacred every single time.

Poetry is truly the theme of the week, because our special guest is the extraordinary poet Maggie Smith (who is here on Substack at For Dear Life With Maggie Smith) — and she reports that she could not have been more surprised by what Thou had to say to her.

Hearts open, pens at the ready, here we go. Let us receive some love from Thou.

Onward,
Your Lizzy

Dear Love, what would you have me know about keeping my heart open?

Little Mouse in a Winter Hole,

It is not so much about keeping the heart open as it is about asking the mind to relinquish its deadly certainties.

Your mind is a beautiful machine, dear one, and it can do fun tricks — but it is a toddler in a diaper and clown shoes compared to what the heart can do. Here is what happens, dear — not only in your life but in many lives. The mind, frightened, analyzes data and comes to conclusions. The mind is always happy to reach a conclusion, because it feels like solid ground upon which to build a fortress — built of commands and sometimes threats. Within the walls of those fortresses, life shrivels.

But the heart! Oh, the heart!

Remember what you were taught in India, when you studied meditation: The heart is the hub of all sacred places. Go there and roam.

How much roaming can you do within a fortress, sweetheart?

But from the openness of a hub, you can roam in all directions — where possibilities extend to limitlessness, stretching into infinite horizons.

Allow your mind to make its calculations and commandments, child — for that is what minds do. But, behind the mind’s back, know that there is an ever-open heart, ready to believe that anything is possible — because anything indeed is possible.

Just in the last year, you have, for instance, been reconciled with (we have lost count, what is it?) six people? Seven people? Eight people whom you never thought you would talk to again? What happened? How did they slip past the fortress of the mind? The heart did its magic. The heart took its time. Your heart — in the midst of its limitless journey on the open road — found its way back to their hearts, which were also wandering openly, endlessly. In some cases, these reconciliations were years in the making. In other cases, decades in the making. But the heart does not hurry. The heart does not count time.

Sweetheart, one thing, though. Please hear us now: this doesn’t mean BE A DUMMY. There will always be people who are unsafe to be around — sometimes for a spell of time, sometimes for a lifetime. Being open-hearted doesn’t mean throwing open the door when someone is standing on the other side with a knife or a maniacal grin or a revenge fantasy. If the door needs to stay closed, keep it closed. But be patient. Be even more patient. Be ready for miracles. You don’t have to manufacture the miracles. That’s what the mind wants you to do! But that’s actually what the heart will do.

Calm down, honeyhead.

Sure, yes, set boundaries where your mind tells you that you must — but never think the mind is sovereign over everything else. Remember that fortresses can crumble, if given enough time. Open hearts are infinite. Open hearts are patient. So let your mind be a bit humble, even as it goes about its business of setting rules.

Most of all, being open-hearted means: you need only be willing to believe that anything, anything, can happen.

Believe in infinite possibilities, little friend. Go there into the sacred realm of the heart and roam. Trust us. We love you. Let’s have a beautiful journey.

Prompt

There is a fine line between defending our vulnerable hearts and closing them off to possibility, isn’t there? We set needed boundaries, but at the same time we have to remain sensitive and open-hearted, because in that relaxed state is when we recognize the magic and miracles in the mundane. Or, as Maggie’s letter reminds us: “Keep your palms open — expectant — because you never know what might land there.”

If this week you want to join us in exploring this idea, here is a good question for the spirit of Unconditional Love: Dear Love, what would you have me know about keeping my heart open?