True you

on essence, seasons, and meeting oneself

Human Stuff is a weekly-ish newsletter. Please feel free to share parts of this letter that connect with you, or send to someone you love. Thank you for reading, ‘heart’ing, sharing, commenting, subscribing, for being here. It means something.

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A song I’m loving:

A portal, 35mm film

A Friday letter instead of the usual Sunday letter, because life is unfolding that way:

I have been blessed with many experiences lately that have put me in close contact with my truest essence — with the version of me that exists underneath the fear, loneliness, protective strategies, and histories piled on top. A healer gently held my hand in hers as I traversed the portal of my own heart, as I met myself again. A friend mirrored my goodness back to me with the effortless softness of her voice. A big meeting started with words of honest praise, not the kind that flatters but the kind that resonates somewhere other than the ego. A photographer said they felt immersed in my world as they captured me standing on a log in the middle of a redwood grove. The participants of my recent writing workshop shared their gratitude and open hearts at the end of our time together. A candle, lit. A cornflower, picked. My husband sent a random I believe in you <3 text, because he really does. My daughter called to me from outside: come be an astronaut with me, mama!; she invited me to be free. My cat curled up in the nook of my leg while I napped for the first time in months, the warmth of her fur reminding me of all the quiet places connection reveals itself.

I’m reminded again and again that we aren’t our behaviors or patterns, our strategies or compulsions, our reactions or our beliefs. We aren’t what has happened to us or how we’ve responded. We aren’t our worst or even our best qualities. We are so much more than what we see, what we know, what we assume. Our truest essence is all of it, and none of it, and so much more than any of it. Our truest essence is ineffable.

Out there, 35mm film

I’m remembering what trust feels like in the body after having it eroded. I’m remembering what it feels like to hold my back sturdy while every other part of me softens, the sense of, “I’ve got you” spiraling down my spine and into my core. I’m remembering that when I was abandoned in a field, I didn’t hide; I cried. I cried out for someone to help me and find me because some part of me, even the smallest part, knew I belonged here. She wanted to stay. She wanted me to stay, to live. I’m remembering the truth that my origin story, and every story I’ve held and carried since, are more than just pain. I’m remembering how to let the words I love you seep into the hidden crevices that forget. I’m remembering I don’t need to hide anymore. I’m remembering how to look people in the eye. I’m remembering how to fully feel. I’m remembering what a gift it is to be willing to fully feel — to not throw any part of ourselves or others away but to instead feel what is really there, what we might not have known how to access before.

Paths everywhere, 35mm film

The season is changing. Our longest days are here. Endless sunshine usually brings me dread; I’ve never loved summer, never particularly enjoyed the high-energy expectations of this time of year. I’m a fall/winter spirit. Yet that, too, is just a story I’ve told myself. Something is shifting in me now as I witness the sunset closer to 9pm than 5pm. I’m welcoming the extra light. I’m trusting it will shine down on whoever needs it, even when I feel like I don’t want it. I’m imagining my infant self, the sunburns she had when she was found, the light that showed her what might be out there waiting for her. I’m looking at a photo of her bright red feet and arms, remembering how scary it was to be so exposed to the elements. I’m imagining her looking up toward the sun and thinking, “I want to be here. I am meant to be here. Please, someone help me stay.” I’m feeling the bigness of staying, right here, feeling the warmth on my cheeks and thanking the earth for all it provides. I’m remembering I am protected now. I’m feeling the generosity that can come with change. I’m feeling the vulnerability of allowing it all. I’m feeling the gift of allowing it all. I’m feeling alive.

This blurry softness, 35mm film

Wherever you may find yourself this season, just past the longest day of the year, in this portal of the full moon, facing the stickiness and heat of summer ahead… know everything will change yet again. Know every season is impermanent. Know there might be room for openings in places you don’t expect. Know Fall is coming soon, and then Winter, and then Spring, and then Summer again. Know there is no sense in clinging to or pushing against any of it — it will slip away regardless. Know it makes sense to feel confused when you think you’re supposed to feel differently. Know your human, animal self lives outside the confines of someone else’s expectations. Know you can meet your heart again and again, right where it is, and say, “I’m here. I’ve got you.” Know all of this is just practice, nothing to perfect, nothing to get right, nothing to win or beat someone at or prove or achieve. Know you can practice again after forgetting. Know it’s okay to not always know.

May you be saturated by life’s seasons, all of them.
May you remember your own heart. May you memorize it.
May tenderness show you what’s true, what’s real.
May you trust the goodness that comes your way.
May you gently gather every part of you and thank them.
May your fear be exquisitely and softly met.
May you let extra light shine in on what’s been hiding.
May you find unexpected joy in what you assume won’t feel great.
May you let yourself be held, be witnessed, be fully seen.
May seeds of nourishment grow in once-dormant spaces.
May you forgive every mistake you’ve ever made.
May your humanity be seen and touched more often than not.
May safety wrap itself around you when you feel afraid.
May your courageous heart reach for help when it needs help.
May a hand be there to hold when facing something alone is too much.
May you discover an infinite well of love to return to again and again.
May life offer you more than what you’re used to.
May you be surprised, over and over.
May the sun gift you something unexpected.
May you let change happen when it’s begging to.
May you find deep belonging in every season, in every part of you.

As always, thank you for being here.

Instead of sharing links this week, I’m sharing an invitation: Put your body in the way of sunshine. Let the sun highlight every speck of humanity on your skin. Let it boost you with vitamins. Let it help you see a little more clearly. Let the sun’s warmth ignite what’s most true for you. Let the comfort of it bathe you, or the discomfort of it embolden you. If you aren’t near sunshine, light a candle. Start a fire. Let the reds and oranges and yellows swirl until you remember the you that exists beyond all labels, judgments, criticisms and boxes. Let yourself be sun. Let yourself be fire. Let yourself be more than you’ve ever let yourself be. And, if all of this sounds way too unaccessible or impractical… maybe buy yourself some flowers that resemble the color of sun, of fire. Maybe cook yourself a favorite meal with seasonal produce. Maybe go for a walk with a friend instead of by yourself. Maybe take a drive on a lovingly familiar road, one that helps you arrive somewhere different inside. Maybe wake a little earlier. Maybe catch the sunset, or the sunrise, or notice how the clouds change shape throughout the day — how they move from a mountain to a stream to a whole valley. May nature bring you closer to your own nature. May it mirror something true for you. Even if only for one small moment.

With care,
Lisa