Dear Self,

There are things you love and you drop them in the day-to-day of living/working/routine-ing. Right now you are on vacation with the space to connect (back) with those things. They are not things; that's a misappropriated term. They are life-lines, bring-you-back-to-the-truth-of-it-all type stuff. Stuff feels wrong too. Anyway, language aside, I want to remind you of them because this space away/apart can serve as on-going memory kicker. So, my dear, remember these...

The New Yorker (the writing, dear God, makes you better by proxy)
Joni Mitchell (lyrics of love unmatched and timeless)
Ecclesiastes (dust in the wind: now that's good theology)
Reading all day long (makes you more human)
Memorizing texts/poems because you/they deserve it (discipline is dope)
Walking to places you've never been (it's like trepidation and discovery all in one)
Going to the movies (it's just story, silly, and there's some kind of retreat involved)
Being alone (don't be an ass; you're totally an introvert no matter how much demand there might be for an alternative reality)
Writing love letters (because you discover love in the writing, duh)
Being outside (like literally changes the composition of your face. trip out)

There might be more to come as there are still 4 days left. What a hallelujah. Oh yeah: another thing. The book you're reading right now "The History of Love" by Nicole Krauss is amazing and you should tell everyone about it. Oh yeah: p.p.s. The article you just read in the New Yorker by Atul Gawande about coaching is something you should share with everyone you work with, particularly folk in social service. Don't forget.