We met at summer camp as kids. Several years later, we were married at the very same camp. On an open field usually reserved for soccer games and free time activities, Kristi and I exchanged vows. Now we have two children, run a creative studio, and make picture books. (Our newest one releases March 21! Preorder here!)
And to think it all started with a few little, clumsy handwritten notes of love . . .
Somewhere in the world, a small handwritten note is being passed from one desk to another desk. The careful handwriting with thoughtful folding quickly makes it apparent to any elementary student anywhere: this is no ordinary note. Maybe it’s instinct. Maybe it’s the scribbled hearts on the oustide, but they know. They can recognize a transformation has taken place. This is no longer just a sheet of paper from a composition book. This is a declaration of love!
Maybe you’ve written one? Maybe you’ve opened your heart onto a sheet a paper, folded it up, and sent it out into the world? Maybe the note found its target? Maybe it resulted in blushing or rejection? Maybe there were laughs or “OoOoOooOO’s!”
A few years back, I spent every single day creating videos for Youtube. It felt like an endless cycle of writing, filming, editing, release, and repeat. The cycle took its toll. Here’s an image of something a very tired me apparently said at a conference during this time:
Not exactly a pep talk … I was, however, at the beginning of learning something deeply important. At the start of my creative journey, many of the things I did were for love. For applause. For attention. For … something.
This operating for love was zapping me of all I had. It was a treadmill and it did not love me back. I was foolish to think it could. Out of survival, I began looking for some other way. Through despair I started asking tough questions like: why’d I even start doing this in the first place?
Well, I’d started creating videos because … I loved it. It was fun. I loved who I was making them with. I loved why we were making them. I loved the good we could inspire. I loved …
Love. I had started all this from a place of love. There was my answer. I needed to stop creating things for love. I was already surrounded by it. My work was to feel that love, appreciate that love, and go from there. The creative life is not about doing things for love. It’s about operating from love.
It’s all a gift. I’d forgottten that.
From this point on, I was no longer writing scripts. I was writing love letters. No longer were these just silly videos for the internet or just talks in front of an audience or just another email or just another anything. Life had become one big love letter.
In Love Actually, Liam Neeson (his character does have a name, but I will not use it because he doesn’t really look like a ‘Daniel’ does he?) has a conversation with an adorable, but troubled young Sam who says: "Well, the truth is, actually...I'm in love." At this serious confession, Neeson laughs and tells the boy he thought it was going to be something worse. The boy responds, "Worse than the total agony of being in love?"
If you’ve ever poured your heart out and not had the affection returned, you know the agony he speaks of. The agony of unrequited love is not exclusive to romance. It could be any request — denied. A simple text — left unseen. A project for work — rejected. A post on social media — unnoticed. Any expression of deep love — misunderstood, dismissed, critized, ignored. Ouch.
WH Auden puts it this way:
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
We cry out for love, for some sort of belonging or acceptance in so many different ways. Maybe we’re all writing little love notes in some form or other every single day. I like you? Do you like me? What if we dedicated our attention toward the love we’re already surrounded by? What if we reached into a deep well of love and set out to share that with every person in our path? We can.
Our lives can be one giant love letter. Write it. Share it. Live it.
H O W T O W R I T E A L O V E L E T T E R :
Feel love.
Express love.
Repeat.
Full disclosure: so many new friends signed up for this email newsletter! I’m incredibly grateful, but it has kind of spooked me over the last week. I’ve written and deleted so many versions of this thing by now! Here’s what helped me: I remembered how easy it was to write notes to that girl at summer camp all those years ago. From love anything is possible. So, I asked — what would I write to people I love? So I wrote this. Thanks for being here. I’m so glad you’re you.
Brad! Your post reminds me of a hot pink index card tacked to my bulletin board at work. I'm always collecting things kids leave behind on field trips that are funny or quirky or educational or charming. A little boy in 4th grade wrote a love note to another girl in class. It read, "Do you want to be my girl? [Yes box] [No box]. If you don't, that's okay, but I'm never asking another girl out ever again." I found the card on the floor of my classroom, so who knows if The Beloved got the note or not. Point is, it fell. What if the little boy never asks another girl out because the card fell out of his pocket and he didn't realize it? What if the little girl never even saw the note and now the boy is assigned a lifetime of heart break and isolation?! Those kids are in high school now, most likely, and I hope they're finding the courage to step out in love everyday!
Every time you post or publish something, it's oozes love. They're good for my soul. And thank you for the reminder <3