Letters Home #54 💌

Writing from: Banff, Alberta

Letters Home usually go only to my paid subscribers, but I want to give you a window into these monthly notes. They read like a letter inspired by what I’m learning in life — a gift in return for those who invest in my work. If you enjoy my work, on or off Substack, consider a subscription or buy me a coffee on Ko-Fi.

Dear Readers,

Today is the first day of the rest of your life.

Dang. I heard this recently, and at first I gave it a mental eye roll until I realized how true it is. Some days, like today, feel so heavy on the life-admin, fridge-filling, and get-the-kid-ready-for-camp stuff that I can feel the beat of humdrum between my ears. Summer has this way of being totally delightful and overwhelming at the same time. The consequence of taking time off is that we come home to a mountain of laundry and appointments and emails. I don’t resent it. But the feeling that I’ve fallen behind and need to catch-up is real.

And so, I remind myself that this day — yes, even this day — is significant. I move my laptop outdoors so I can work where the breeze is rustling the leaves, the birds sing, and my flowers reach for the sun. I take a moment to connect with family. I sit and breathe deeply, remember my many blessings, and soak in the miracle of my beating heart. That same heart that got me into the alpine yesterday so I could enjoy the most wonderful of vistas. The same heart that beats as I type, that keeps me upright so I can chop my vegetables for dinner, and give my daughters a squeeze when they come through the door.

You know what else is significant? Nothing that heart beats for stays the same for long.

I’ve discovered in my fourth decade that Life continually calls us into a mindset of reinvention. I used to think I understood this, until I looked at my life recently and realized how much things had changed: the projects holding my focus, the rhythms of my family life, the people in my close circle of friends. I can’t put a finger on why or how; seemingly out of nowhere, what (and to whom) I give my energy has changed… dramatically. For a time, I felt like I was chasing the familiar, as though the vision of my life had broken into a hundred pieces and, like a jigsaw puzzle, I simply needed to put it back together again. But, it turns out, the picture has changed. I’ve changed. Some of this has been my own choice. Some changes have been worth grieving. And others, even those I expect — like my role as a mother — have been changing at rocket speed, and I can’t keep up. These, too, I grieve, even if I know the change has been coming.

Amidst all this, I’ve come to understand why the Buddhists believe we’re in a constant state of flux and decay, and we suffer when we expect things to be permanent. It seems I’ve relearned this many times in my life. It’s as though when I become too attached, when I’m white-knuckling my way through Life, the suffering lights up like a neon sign telling me I’m holding on too tight.

And so, we return to the mantra: Today is the first day of the rest of your life.

Aren’t we funny beings? In the monotony, we’re prone to forget the significance of each day. And when our circumstances land like a jigsaw puzzle, we yearn to go back to the familiar picture. Yet the common denominator is that each day we wake up, we have a choice of how we’ll live it. We can start anew — embrace the new — and be grateful for it, or we can resist what’s right in front of us, the easiest path to suffering.

It’s one of the hardest things for nostalgic creatures like us. We won’t always get it right. We may hit the Reset button several times in a day. But I like to believe that what’s really asked of us is that we show up and do our best.

We remember that everything can change. Everything will change. And so we face what today has to offer and give it what we can.

Yours in light and learning,