I woke up at 6:00 a.m. this morning, in love.
A smile stretched across my face while my mind played with building thoughts. I rolled over to my stomach with my face pressed right into the pillow, and my arms stretched up over my head.
I felt a tug from the corner of the bedroom. At this, my thoughts began moving faster. My smile stretched wider. I now had too much energy to simply stay in bed. My hands and feet had things to do!
I swung my feet over the side of the bed and stood up. The room was illuminated partly by the snow that dusted the ground outside.
I glanced at the corner of my bedroom, and there was the perpetrator of the tugging: my new Royal Classic typewriter.
See, I have fallen in love with the written word.
This typewriter will provide me with one more avenue to bring these words I love to life—the words that form out of the way I feel in life, words which form out of how I interpret the world! Words which serve as an anchor when my life experience is drowning me.
I picked up my new friend. Heavy! We went out to the dining room together. I clumsily placed it on the table and turned on the light. Minty green. Cream-colored keys. Smooth. Cold. So much potential.
I don’t yet have ink or paper. I sit, and I start rapping on the keys, anyway. I am pretending.
What first to write?
Love. I will write a letter to love.
You are not as elusive as you seem. Like sunglasses that are already on my head while I sometimes search frantically, you are already there. You show up in everything and are the building block of the universe. Oh, that’s the atom? Same thing.
Love, you are energy. When given enough thought that turns into action, you turn into matter. Love, you are creation. Yes?
If love constructs and fear breaks down, why do people turn away from you? (Myself included at times!) It should be obvious to us that staying in love is what propels our life forward and builds toward the things that matter most to us.
Choosing love over fear is meeting each morning in gratitude rather than anxiety or disgust of the morning hours. It’s seeing the mess of those you love the most and bringing them in near; it’s unconditional.
Choosing love is doing the hard things because the bigger picture excites your spirit to no end! It’s putting in the extra time, nurturing yourself—your dreams—and the people who are dear to you and treat you well.
Love, you are as close as I allow you to be. And I’d like to keep you near.
I am being tugged by more love now, so I’m going to sign off of this letter knowing you are still right here with me. Keep tugging.
I stand up from my letter. It is invisible since I have no ink or paper in my typewriter, but it is present in my mind and heart.
I look at my new little tug. She’s not so little—at least not in the energetic sense.
She’s my three-year-old daughter.
“Mom, I looked at the snow! We need to touch it, Mom! Mom! I want to touch the snow! I need a jacket and my clothes!”
She giggles as I chase her into her bedroom. Her nighttime diapers are all over the floor, and she turns around to tell me, “Mom! Look at this mess! I did that!” She’s proud of her creation. I see her mess, and I bring her in near to me.
I hug her little body and feel the immensity of who she is, and again I feel the energy being too much to be still in me. I laugh and know that this little love source is one of the many reasons why I write what I feel.
I get her little body dressed in a kitty costume (because she insists), and we go outside to touch the snow.
I am in love.
I think I will write about it later.