This Week in Joyful Practice: Snail Mail
Urgency—sealed with a kiss!
When you were in grade school or middle school, did you have pen pals?
I’m guessing there’s a generational divide on this one, that some of you young lambs may have never had a pen pal, may have only received the occasional birthday card or holiday package via snail mail. If this is you, it’s not too late. It’s not too late for any of us to send letters in the mail—for no particular occasion, just for fun.
And because this is a quick Friday post, I won’t catalogue all of the many joys of snail mail, but I will tell you about one joy in particular: the handwritten, heartfelt letter as the antidote to an unhinged mind.
By which I mean: Some days something is bothering me and I can barely stand myself. On good days, I’m a hamster on a wheel and on bad days I’m a rat chewing through the cage. These are the kinds of days when it would be convenient to have a counseling appointment, but I don’t. And I could—I could!—call a friend and ask them if they’d walk with me, or talk on the phone, but that’s a lot of arranging, and I might start to tire of my own voice. And I could—I certainly could—write a journal entry, which would take hardly any arranging but I would likely write myself more deeply into a frenzy. But there’s a magic that happens when the page has a destination, and that destination is a trusted friend. Whatever is troubling me, I effort to contain it, to give it a shape, to explain it clearly, to make it just a little entertaining and worthy of the time I’m asking of my reader.
Also, I take solace in knowing the friend can put the letter down. There was urgency in me when I wrote it, but there’s no urgency in them reading it. By the time my words arrive in their mailbox, my passion has subsided.
So now, when my brain gets hot and chaotic in a certain way, I try to remember this way of taming it.
It turns out that other forms of snail mail are equally calming. Why is that? Maybe it’s just the act of grounding into the present moment, capturing it—via epic letter, via postcard, via doodle, via note—and sending it off into a future moment. What could be more peaceful than imagining a connection that spans timelines?
I’m thinking of you on May 22, and you’ll receive the thought on May 25.
So much magic in the pause between sender and receiver.
So much magic in the slowness of the snail.
The prompt: write a quick note or an epic letter, and mail it to someone near or far. Maybe, if it’s fun, consider how to capture the specific moment you’re in. (For instance: Date at the top? Description of the weather? A drawing of the view from your window? A recounting of what you ate for breakfast?)
Love this prompt. There's something magical about holding a letter in your hands and recognizing the squiggly letters and slang as something that dropped from your friend's hand. Thank you!!! Cheers to penpals!
Just love this prompt and attention given to writing letters again, Jenn. Like Sarah, I have so many letters and cards from people over the years adorning various desks and tables around my home. But also, just a week ago, a friend asked if she could write to me while I was away in California (where I still am and will be till mid-June), and I was delighted! So now I have a little pen pal for the next few weeks.
There are few things as delicious as waiting for a letter to arrive in the mailbox, retrieving it, sitting down outside near a tree, and reading it slowly, and then again and again. One of those experiences not many take time for anymore but so intimate. I love looking at someone's handwriting, how it often reflects the writer's personality. So much more personal than a text.