13 February 2014
Tonight, it’s been one year since we started this project.
I remember it all began when I asked you about your writing. I think I read your blog, or perhaps it was from a previous conversation, but something you said stuck with me: “I wish I were certain. I wish I knew for sure what I had.”
How is your writing coming along–ha. Another letter a few days later and I realised how ridiculous that must’ve sound. If you wrote me asking the same thing, I wouldn’t know how to answer either. But I recognised the doubt, the frustration. I’ve been there. When I wrote you that letter, I was still there.
One idea led to another, and soon we agreed to be writing partners. Do you remember the poem exercises? The ones we did daily, and saved in a shared folder? A quick glance at it now and wow, time seems to have stopped on the month of February. The poems didn’t come easy for both of us. It was a good exercise, nevertheless, and I know that, but–and I am speaking for myself here–I don’t think at the time I was mentally prepared and emotionally fit (ha, big words) to get to work. (But ask me again this year–I think I have a different answer.)
Our partnership didn’t end there though–that’s when I told you about an idea I had, about letters, something we very much love to do. And here we are.
We named this place so because of the differences in our hours, between our waking and sleeping. Over time though I think it became more than that. I’ve noticed us both slip into days which needed a little more caring for the soul, a plea for love and grace and kindness, a turning away from the world, even just for a little while. And then there were days when we came back to ourselves, when we found our way back to the light, when we arrive at an awakened life.
That’s what I see here, M. That’s what we’ve created, and that’s what we have–a reflection of how we go through our days, knowing and not knowing, learning and unlearning. And what a year it was.
I am glad you are with me. I am grateful you are here for me. And I you. M., my darling friend–you have me.