A Letter from Love

What the Universe wants me to know

The writer

Elizabeth Gilbert

(of Eat, Pray, Love and Big Magic fame) started a column on Substack last year called Letters From Love. I’ve seen it before—she’s part of a trifecta of raw, real women writers I admire, including Glennon Doyle and

Cheryl Strayed

—but I’d never read it. Something inspired me today to click when her “Back to Basics Edition” appeared in my Substack feed with the subtitle, “Writing Love Letters 101.” I know enough about Liz Gilbert to know that she wasn’t talking about origami-folded missives to your middle-school crush scrolled on spiral-bound notebook paper and passed secretly in the hallway. Gilbert deals in self-love and self-discovery. So I opened the article.

Liz included a video explaining what Letters from Love are, and where the idea came from. It’s a way of channeling Love—from yourself, the Universe, God, or whatever speaks to you—so you can articulate the things you wish someone would say to support you right now, and offer that love to yourself.

As I process the grief from my most recent loss in my quest for parenthood, I figured it couldn’t hurt to sit down and write myself a love letter. I opened up to the last pages in the journal I bought at a Barnes & Noble in Miami two years ago, grabbed my purple gel pen, and wrote the prompt:

Dear Love,

What would you have me know today?

Love,

Liz

Love immediately started writing back. Using my fingers to pen the words, here’s what she shared:

Dear Liz:

Know that it is hard right now. It’s not in your imagination. You’re not overreacting. You’ve put your heart on the line so many times in pursuit of parenthood, and it’s been broken every single time. Until now, you’ve chosen not to give up on that dream. Know that it’s OK to give up, and it’s OK to keep trying—to keep holding onto the hope that something is meant to be. Know that you will love and be loved either way. Your worthiness does not depend on what happens or which choices you make. You are always worthy of love, and you will always have other beings to love. (Now go pet your dogs!). 

Know that the world is beauty-full and wonder-full, and that beauty and wonder are always available to you. Just stop and look. Smell. Listen. Taste. Feel. Breathe. That you can do those things is itself a miracle. 

Know that hard things make you stronger, even (and especially) when it feels like they will destroy you. You’ve been through a lot of hard things. It feels like it will never get easier—like the pain and regret will never go away. It will; they will. You know now that if your first marriage hadn’t fallen apart—if you hadn’t fucked it up—you never would have had Seth in your life. It’s OK to fuck this up too. Something else will come along—maybe even something better.

Go easy on yourself. It feels like you are doing nothing, but you are healing, and growing. You’ll know when you’re ready for the next thing, whatever that may be.

Listen to the loons. Watch the bald eagle glide across the lake, and the osprey dive for fish. See the chickadees flit among the hemlock boughs.

Relax your damn body! Know that it’s all in your mind—this tension that clenches your jaw, strangles your throat, and knots your shoulders all day and all night. Notice the tightness in your body, release it, and your mind will ease. Notice the unease in your mind, let it go, and your muscles will soften. This is in your power. Keep noticing.

Know that you are not a victim. There is no one to blame, including yourself. As the saying goes, accept what you cannot change, and change what you can. The wisdom lies in knowing the difference. Right now you are trying to change everything. When you stop fighting reality, you will accept, and you will finally relax.

You don’t need to try so hard. Even as you write those words, you don’t believe it, but it’s true. Let that be your life’s work. You do well enough. You are good enough. Let that be enough.

Go outside! Spend as much of your life outdoors as possible, not just moving through the world, but really being in it and with it. That is also your life’s work. 

And keep writing. It eases your mind and lightens your soul. Maybe it will even help someone. But don’t do it for them. Do it for you.

Now go pet your dogs!

Love,

LOVE

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If you’d like to write your own Letter from Love, I’d love to read it! Please share in the comments, and be sure to thank Liz Gilbert for sharing this practice with the world.

XOXO Liz

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