So much of my writing over the past year has been personal journaling. I have pages of scrawled notes and lots of therapeutic reflections. It’s the sort of writing that rarely sees the light of day. It’s also the writing in which insights pop up and out of the mess.
Recently, I’ve been re-reading my journal pages and noticing how often I write love notes to myself, underlining what I want and need to hear. It’s occurred to me that these notes offer messages that many of us may long to hear. Among my most repeated themes are desires to trust myself and others, to soften my heart while knowing and holding boundaries, and to follow an intuitive pace that’s not what the world prescribes.
So, this post shares love notes from journal pages. These scraps of insights provide nudges or lessons like those that emerge in coaching. They are the sort of reminders that I repeat often to myself. And to others. And that others repeat often to me.
These notes share what many of us know, but also knowings that get obscured and invisibilized because we live in everyday, ongoing oppression. So many of our systems—from heteropatriarchy to racial capitalism to settler colonialism to ableism—interfere with following the intuitive knowings and listening for/to “the strong yes.” These systems certainly interrupt our relationships with ourselves, each other, and the divine. So any practices that bring us back to ourselves and remind us of what we know and care about and commit to—any of these practices—matter. Journaling can be one of these practices.
As you read, I hope you’ll keep any of these love notes that speak to you. Leave any that don’t. And consider this an invitation to write love notes of your own. Anytime, all the time.
Love Notes from Journal Pages (Notes to Myself … and to Share with You)
I need more time with myself, and that’s ok. I flourish within slowness, within silence. It may be lifelong learning to find my own pace and follow that pace. And in this learning, I’ll say as often as I need to hear it: “Beth, go slow and steady. Move with intention.”
Let’s focus less on what I’m not doing and more on the fuller experience of living. There will always be more to-dos. But am I living well and living out commitments? Am I pausing to reflect? Am I not only doing but also feeling, processing, un/learning, relating, and being present to all that’s before me now? Am I in the here-and-now? The here-and-now can tell me more about what to-dos matter for now and for the next now and the next. Could I be more curious about why I am called to the to-dos I prioritize? Why those and not others? Could I soften to any beliefs that I’m doing it wrong or not doing enough? Could I loosen attachments to the self who wants to feel good because I’ve gotten a lot done? That’s another site for unlearning. Instead, open to living in/as an acknowledgement of divine human dignity. I am already enough. So, with that knowing, what to-dos really feel true and meaningful and pull at my heart? What does my gut say we should be doing? May I listen and honor the inner knowings more. Every moment I do is another moment of resistance and another invitation toward sacred living.
Life is often uncomfortable and tenderizing. Rather than pushing away what hurts, tend to it. Rub your foot. Stretch your legs. Massage your back. Ask what food will nourish you now. Notice how asking shifts the questions—and shifts you away from quick action toward curiosity and openness to answers. And answers are all around. Worry less that you’ll miss them or misinterpret meanings. And smile more when you notice any little thing—from the delicious surprise of adding ingredients to your lentil pancakes to the longings that underlie annoyance for having too little time for quiet contemplation. Smile that you are slowing down for this contemplative writing. See: provision abounds. Provision is all around.
Boundaries are first and foremost with yourself: what will you say no to? What will you hold as your no? How will you honor yourself and follow your intuition and be willing to surrender and still keep things in and keep things out? Where are your thoughts going? Where can you realign with your commitments? How can you come back to yourself—your core—again and again and again? Notice self-boundaries … Really, really, do I want to ruminate over that? Do I want to give it any more of my time or attention? Do I want to take in that storyline or live out that role or continue in that pattern? Where would I be if I could be more creative and tread off-path away from my well-worn ruts that are keeping me in place? To move forward, remember: soft heart, still boundaried.
I love big and bright, so why don’t I focus on how to shine that love? On feeling how deeply I am loved? And drawing from the deep well of love’s capacity? Beth, begin by feeling love in every cell of your being. Your cells remember what it is to be loved and to love boldly.
It is safe to BREATHE.
To breathe in love.
It is safe to BREATHE.
To share love with others through every outbreath.
Acknowledgements
I share these love notes with deep gratitude for all of us striving to embody and enact love while reaching toward justice.
With acknowledgment to bell hooks always and especially whenever I consider how to live out love.
With acknowledgment to Menah Pratt who describes the importance of re-reading journal pages as part of the conversation with Lifting as We Climb Consulting Wellness Services: “Strategies To Manage Toxic Jobs (If You Cannot Exit Yet): Black Women & Toxic Jobs” and to Candace Epps-Robertson for sharing this conversation with me. Relatedly, acknowledgement for the spiritual alignment (synchronicities that are always teachers) for the timing of listening to this YouTube recording in the midst of pulling journal pieces and understanding them as “love notes.”
With acknowledgment for walking pathways along with Candace and with many people who are connecting around career discernment and burnout. May we keep seeking reconnection with ourselves, rededication to our commitments, and recommitment to loving boldly for justice (with love as a verb so powerful that it crowds out all that tears us and those we love down).
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This post is written by Beth Godbee, Ph.D. for Heart-Head-Hands: Everyday Living for Justice. A few highlights:
- Saturday 3/9: Next Weekend Writing Retreat
- Wednesday 3/13: Next Workshop “Practices for Navigating Burnout”
- Recent Related Article: “Is This Burnout? You Aren’t Alone in Asking the Question” co-authored with Candace Epps-Robertson in EON, Editorial Online News
- Related Blog Posts: “Contemplative Writing: Journaling and Other Practices for Reflection, Mindfulness, and Intentionality,” “Reflective Poetry Prompts from Writing Retreats: A Contemplative Writing Practice,” and “Triangulating the Heart, Head, and Hands for Justice.”
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