I keep rewriting this letter to you, mostly because what I have to share is coming out in a whoosh. It feels disorganized and perhaps a little too heartfelt and raw. In other words, I’m afraid of what you might think.
Although I’ve been filling journals and journals over the years, writing to you has never come easy. There is no question about it, I love to write. I mean, I didn’t become a translator because I loved to bake…
The sharing is made difficult for two reasons: When I write to share, I make a effort to polish the message, to make it pretty and elegant. Yet, this is often far from reality. In truth, my feelings and thoughts are usually a messy huddle of questions and uncertainties. But we wouldn’t want that in the open, would we? Why? This brings me to the second reason: What would you think of me?
Well, the current good news (and bad news) is that I’m bored with my polished talk. I’m actually so bored and even disgusted by it that I either have to stop writing altogether, or I have to start writing true. Are you still with me?
Here’s the truth: the state of the world, the indifference of humans towards humans and other living creatures, our complete disregard for Mother Nature’s cycles, our one-track growth mindset snowball rollercoaster, our it’s-not-my-fault-I-throw-my-hands-in-the-air defence, the upcoming end of the world as we know it.
And here I was, telling who wants to hear that the world is a great place and feeling like a fraud. Boom. I wrote it. And it feels shitty and scary.
I’ve been exploring this despair over the last few months. To be honest, it’s been there for a long long time. Every time I alluded to it, I was told to not worry so much, to focus on the good things. I kept pushing along, smiling and spreading words of encouragement. Thinking it was MY problem, MY anxiety, MY fears. It felt lonely. Who likes to be the party pooper?
This year, I decided to jump into the rabbit hole. Because I just didn’t have the energy to pretend anymore. As I let it happen and I allowed myself to really feel the despair and anger and fear, I slowly found other reasons to be. I became aware that I’m not alone and that some very inspirational and generous souls are doing great work to remind us humans that life is worth living, even if we all know it will end some day. I will hopefully find the courage to write more about this.
And this takes us to NOW.
You will most likely see a change in tone and content in this letter in the upcoming months. I don’t know what it will look like, but I can promise you truth and openness. I frankly have no interest in writing anything but the raw truth and paradoxes. I feel completely terrified.
If you decide to stay along for the ride, I’m so delighted to have you along. Human to human.
I will not be sharing yoga in public classes for the foreseeable future. It’s a hat I just cannot wear at this time. (I’ll try to write more about that too.)