LETTERS FROM LOVE — With Special Guest Oliver Radclyffe!

The tree stands in all weather

Dear Lovelets,

Earlier this year, I was traveling in Costa Rica and I met a group of young Black women from Atlanta who had purchased a plot of land together and were in the process of creating a home/commune/retreat center/farm/healing space where they could live together for the rest of their lives, allowing the land and the water and the air and the plants to provide for their needs.

When I asked the founder of this project if this idea of moving to Costa Rica to live off the land was a response to the current political climate in America, she said “yes and no.” She explained that this was an idea she’d had for a long time, that she’d purchased the land before the most recent elections, and that she had already been living in community, love, art, and activism with this group of women for many years.

“But does it feel more urgent now, because of all that is happening in the U.S.?” I asked.

She thought about my question for a moment, and said calmly, “I think the central consideration is this: If the world is ending, where do you want to be, and who do you want to be with? And if the world is not ending, where do you want to be, and who do you want to be with? The simple answer is that, whatever happens politically or historically, this is where I want to be and these are the women I want to be with.”

I would just like to say today that whatever happens or does not happen in the world, this community is where I want to be, and you are the people I want to be with. Whatever may come.

Our special guest this week is

Oliver Radclyffe

, a dear friend, a powerful writer, a Substacker at

Brevis Scriptor

, and a trans man whose letter from Love is, in many ways, a response to the fear that — for some very precious and vulnerable people — the world right now does feel like it is ending. And yet love is here. Even in this. Even in all of this. And beneath the love that showed up for Oliver in this moment of anguish and fear, this is also a deep, settling wisdom.

May you know love. May you know peace. And may we be together — in this moment in history, and all the moments to come.

Dear Love, what would you have me know about this moment in history?

Sweetheart, sit with me. Sit here with me for a moment and collect your breath. Sit with me and feel your body. Feel your back against the chair. Feel the feet on the floor. Feel the cold morning air on your face. Now look out the window at the toweringly tall Eastern white pine tree outside. It has been here far longer than you have been here. I want you to ask that tree the same question you just asked me: What would you have me know about this moment in history?

Now listen for the answer:

This too shall pass. I am older than all of you, and I can tell you: this too shall pass. And one day I shall pass as well, probably long after you are gone. In the meantime, my body supports the lives of countless other beings. Yours does, too. History is none of my business, because I do not control it. Because I do not control it, I do not fear it. I am here to grow, so that I can give life to others. After I die, I will still give nourishment and support to others. This is the way of things. Stand tall. Support others. Give nourishment. This is what we are here for.

That’s it, dear. You are here to support and nourish others. For many years you could not do this, or you could only halfway do it because your own pain, fear, ambition, addiction, and distraction consumed all your energy — or most of it. The reason we have asked you to work so hard to get well is not merely so that you can be well; it is so that you can do what you came to do, which is to support and nourish others.

You cannot support and nourish everyone, but you can support and nourish MANY. In the short moment that you sat and watched the tree, you saw two sparrows and a woodpecker darting about in its branches. The tree has created shelter for them. The tree is so quietly present they barely even take notice of its existence, even as they are given a home by it — life, safety, support.

My love, do not be overwhelmed by all that there is to do. Stay with me, grounded in stillness and faith, and listen for my voice the way you just listened for the guidance of the tree, and you will be told exactly where I need you to go, what I need you to do, who I need you to help, how I need you to show up in service.

History is not my business any more than it is the business of that tree, or you, or the sparrow, or the woodpecker. But it is our business — it is your business — to provide shelter, space, support, respite, love, and safety for as many life forms as you can accommodate within the span of your heart, over the span of the years.

Let this guidance be the motive for all that you do. Make money only so that you can give it away to those who need it, or to those who help those who need it. Take care of your health so you can be strong enough to show up for other people when they are weak. Put work into the world that will help other people to get free. Make spaces where other people can gather to be safe, creative, to learn, to heal. Stay calm so that you can provide a shelter of emotional peace — if only temporary — for those around you.

Bring laughter. Bring food. Bring resources. Bring life. Bring a listening ear. Offer people who are not being heard the opportunity to be heard. Advocate for those who do not have the power to advocate for themselves, and support those who protect all that is sacred, good, fair, and kind.

This is what we want you to be doing, no matter what history is doing. These instructions will not change, no matter what comes to pass or does not come to pass. The tree stands in all weather, year after year. So can you. So can you. The tree keeps nourishing, after it is dead. So can you. So will you.

Be strong now. Even stronger. Grow tall. Even taller. Give. Give more. Help others. Provide.

We love you.

Prompt

Take a deep breath. Look outside. Drink some water. Wash your face. It’s a chaotic time — but if you pull the camera back and take the long view, it’s always a chaotic time. How do we resist the feelings of overwhelm and discouragement that often come when outside forces seem to be moving too fast? What, in other words, can we control when things feel out of control? Let’s find out.

This week, as you sit down to write your letters, try posing this question: Dear Love, what would you have me know about this moment in history?