I've been thinking about letters a lot lately. Modern conveniences like gchat are a wonder at keeping me in touch with friends who have moved away. We are able to share the mundanities of our lives, creating a closeness and immediacy in friendships not available before. But there is still a place and a purpose for handwritten letters. My friend Crysty and I think of them as journal entries that we send away. Writing letters allows you to pause, reflect, and through a one-sided, meandering conversation, truly connect with and reveal yourself to the other person. Daily meals and fleeting worries fall away; what is left is solid and true, meaningful and private.
It rained overnight, and today it is gray outside. Cool and breezy. I relaxed a bit yesterday, had a beer with Meg after work and discussed my hesitation at revealing that I've been wanting to teach lately. I want to become a licensed teacher and teach reading to elementary students or high school English/Literature. And, strikingly, I felt so much better, just saying it. As though, by speaking it, I've brought my ambitions that much closer to realization. She spoke to her mom - who has been both a teacher and a librarian in Massachusetts - and we have a phone date in the near future. I plan to pick her brain, take notes, and (soon after) take action.
What dreams are you afraid to say aloud?