Dear you,

 
 

This morning my coffee smells strong on my desk. The steam rising meets my face and I am here. There are eight antique windows overlooking the meadow that I love. Beyond the meadow are cedars and douglas fir trees, alder, elder, and one small sequoia. The frogs are sleeping but last night their song was a metronome for my calligraphic flourishes as I scribed letters near and far. I feel cleansed in this new season. 

I have been feeling connected to you lately. Thinking about you. About us. About our world, the world we share. The world we love. My meadow is a respite, but I'm aware of what's beyond these trees.

When connection is present, people thrive. When people are thriving and connected to themselves and to their community, communities are strong. More than ever, we need strong communities. We need thriving individuals contributing and connecting with the larger whole.

Without cursive handwriting being taught in schools across America, we are disconnecting from our history. With the increase of technology and do-it-all-fast devices, we are disconnecting from ourselves. Without the warmth of handmade things, we are disconnecting from the functions of our daily lives. Without the paper and the ink and the pen, we are disconnecting from the original ways of preserving our poetry. And our poetry is our lifeline. And we are all poets, really.

My vision for my place in the world as a poet, calligrapher, letter-writer and teacher is to stand for these important aspects of connection. I stand for us, I will continue to connect you to your community via the written word. I will empower you and believe in you and love you on your path to a deeper, more connected life. I believe in letters to change the world. I'm writing them and I'm teaching about letters and letter-forms. 

I love you. I am grateful for you. 

 

Yours sincerely,

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lindsey wayland, we are all poets, really