Dear little one,
You are far too young to read right now, still stages away from knowing your ABCs, but I’m sitting down to pen this letter to share with you a piece of my story. I think our stories – our human stories, the stories of lives – matter. And today, as I begin this series of letters to you, I want to start at the most natural of places - why I’m writing…
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In the seventh grade, Michael Blake’s Dances with Wolves was required reading in all English classes at our school. Fifteen years later, and I cannot tell you much about the plot of the book (I’m sorry Mr. Blake- I owe you a re-read), but if you ask anyone in my seventh-grade class about Dances with Wolves, I am certain they will tell you that the book has something to do with “rebirth.” What began, I’m sure, as a well-intentioned attempt to teach symbolism and theme, quickly became a joke among the students as we were taught that anything and everything in the novel represented “rebirth.”
What does the morning dew symbolize here? Rebirth. The sunrise… rebirth. The river flowing… rebirth. The fifth star to the right of the full moon… rebirth, of course.
(Just the other day, nearly two decades since that seventh-grade class, your dad and I saw Dances with Wolves listed in the TV guide; Kelson’s immediate reaction- “Remember that book? It was so great! I always knew the right answer to every question… rebirth.”)
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While I think our teachers may have taken some liberties when identifying symbolism and theme, their greater point is not missed. We read to uncover universal human truths- to discover that some things (like, freedom, friendship, love, and rebirth) are bigger than time and place and our own personal experience. Stories takes us out of our reality, and when we return, we are equipped to make better sense of our own.
And so why do we write? I think for this very reason.
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The written word separates humans from other animal species- what a powerful gift to be able to express ourselves to one another, to record the times for future generations, to share anecdotes, humor, and wisdom.
We write letters for relationship- to share our lives with another, an indication that we are not alone. We write essays for ideas- to share perspectives, an indication that there are many worthy understandings of life experiences. We write nonfiction for information- to share facts and figures, an indicator that (wo)man’s knowledge of the world that we know is dynamic, but partial and incomplete (after all, the world is not flat). We look back on what has been written to see where truth persists and where “truth” was actually opinion in disguise.
On a personal level, we write for ourselves; in fact, journaling is often used as a therapeutic tool. As a counselor, I constantly encouraged my students to write- to “get ‘it’ out of your head and down on paper.” There’s a relief that comes when we find the words to express our feelings and circumstances. There is a power in the giving of a name, of putting pen(cil) to paper and leaving our thoughts right there- always available for revisiting (or revising). I think we breathe easier and experience peace stronger when we have the words to express our internal experiences- the words themselves serve to validate our intangible experiences and emotions. And much like traditional non-fiction, we can look back to see what truths hold and where our understandings were partial and incomplete. We can see where time and life experience cause us to edit or strike-out completely our previous thoughts, and where we want to bold and underline the truths that remain.
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We’re starting a new series here that we’re calling Letters to my Daughter. A series of letters, of essays, of journals. Each month your Keks and I are going to pen a letter to our daughter (her to me, me to you), to share our thoughts on a given topic- a theme of life, if you will. We’re not doing this because we think we have the answers, but rather, because we’ve realized that while there are undoubtedly themes of life, the nuances of what freedom, friendship, love, etc., mean at different stages of our lives are vast and varied. We do not wish for our words to speak for a generation (Keks for baby boomers, me for millennials), but we recognize that our generation will inform our words as our culture has undoubtedly influenced our experiences.
We write with our hearts’ understanding for today. Not for tomorrow. Knowing that as we grow our picture will become more complex and complete… that while we hold a few core things to be true regardless of time or place, our understanding of the world must grow with us. We cannot remain stagnant. And so here is our documentation- one mother, one daughter (a new mother). Two women. A snapshot of what life has taught us, for now. Our stories, offered here.
Because I think that our stories are all we really have to offer, they are, after all, what make up our lives.
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I hope that one day, you will read this. And that you will read it the very best way I know to read- fully open.
For when we read, we must not only open the pages, but we must also open ourselves. Our imagination must be open to the story, our mind open to the ideas, our hearts open to the people, our whole selves open to growth. When we sit down to read, we may not know what exactly we seek, but as the words leave the pages and seep into us, we find.
We find freedom- taking a breath, knowing now that we are not alone.
We find affirmation- a new way to put words to the emotions or experiences we own.
We find clarity- as we agree or disagree with another perspective, we gain a better understand our own.
We find restoration- moving beyond our past and toward something new.
Perhaps, even, my seventh-grade teachers were on to something. Maybe as we share in another’s story, we find a small piece of ourselves born again; energized and revitalized, as we find words to affirm a purpose, a hope, a belonging.
It is my hope, that we might find a bit of all of this here, in this series.
Because one of the few things I know to be true regardless of time or place is that our stories matter. Little one- the beautiful, complex, layered story of your life— it matters.
And so we write…
With all my love,
This is part of a series called Letters to my Daughter, in which mother-daughter duo Kelli (a baby-boomer) and Amanda (a millennial) share their perspective on a “theme” of life, with the hope of writing bridges for all of life’s “in-betweens.” This theme: why write? You can read Kelli’s perspective here. And you can find other themes from this series here.
