What if you were in conversation with yourself over time, a younger version of you speaking to an older version and vice versa? Pick a date in the future and write a letter to yourself and then calendar it to be read that day. What would you want to tell yourself?
Strange coincidence, I recently started binge watching the Game of Thrones series, which includes many scenes of letters with wax seals sent by falcon or carrier pigeons.
June 21, 2018: Today is the Summer Solstice: the longest day of the year. Solstice comes from the Latin roots meaning “sun standing still” because the sun lingers in the sky as if pausing to peer into our lives or to offer us warmth and invite us to play. It is a a lover’s delight amid the radiance of strawberries and roses and a longing for limbs and lips to find each other before the oppressive heat of summer weighs us down. It is the tipping point in the spread of light into the night.
There is much to live between my time and yours: the decline of light descending toward the autumnal equinox and on to the winter solstice, when the dark pushes out day and we shelter ourselves from the harshness of the world, then the gradual return of light through the spring equinox before arriving at your doorstep ten moons from now on April 20, 2019.
June 22, 2018: The only difference between you and I is our orientation. I "look forward,” facing the north star, my guiding light, while you stand closer to that unknown destination, "looking back," the north star behind you, casting a golden aura over your head. I give these words to you as if I am a courier, a messenger of time, offering you a letter, sealed with wax and embossed with my own personal stamp of authenticity, the letter held in both my hands while I bow in respect, hoping that these few words will awaken our shared memories.
You bow in return, taking the envelope with two hands and we both rise, catching the light in our eyes. What travels between us in this moment is unfathomable, our separate gains and losses, our tidal truths and shallow rants, our wild wishes and cool constraints, our dreamed delights and dark desires, all hanging electric in the air, arcing invisible bolts of frenzied lightening between us. An observer would only see one, acting strangely, but with exquisite intent, like a bobcat stirred into stillness by a distant sound, all senses tuned to the silence of hushed wind and the slightest shimmer in the grass, and the observer would then look around, with curious eyes, searching for what could be so enthralling.
June 24, 2018: Who knows what the world shall bring or what mix of choice and chance will shape the path between us. I put my faith in the collective intelligence of a lifetime, in the wisdom within me to guide my choices; and in the hand of providence for the chance to live this miraculous life.
© Nick LeForce
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