Prefer to listen?
Every February, letters ricochet across the globe for International Correspondence Writing Month (InCoWriMo). Bits of paper fly across oceans and continents to connect unlikely penpals to one another despite differences, perceived or otherwise. Letter writers from California to Timbuktu send out tendrils of kindness on bits of paper in an effort to feel a little less alone, a little more connected, and a lot more accepted for all their quirks and idiosyncrasies. In truth, InCoWriMo is kind of magical.
I’ll admit. In the past few years, I struggled to writer letters every day of the month. Not just because of the languishing feeling that accompanied so many of us during the pandemic or because the country I resided in outsourced its postal system to a private entity that was unreliable at best. No, it was also because I felt a looming self-doubt in the value of my words and ideas. Sometimes, when our boat is rocked extra hard, and uncertainty seems like the only thing we can hold onto, other parts of ourselves can be thrown into question. But I digress.
Writing is one of those creative expressions that blurs the line between private and public. It is equal parts for the writer and for an audience (even when that audience is the writer themselves), and when it comes to letter writing, it’s all about connection. There’s no need to create something big or grandiose like a book or skywriting a poem, nor must it be public or flashy like a movie script or a billboard. It can be subtle, a whisper written on a humble scrap of paper.
This is what International Correspondence Writing Month (InCoWriMo) represents to me: An exercise in using the power of words to connect and gently change the world.
Life’s too short to wait for that perfect moment, that dream job, or that precise jumble of words we know is in our heads somewhere. It’s so much more valuable to seek beauty in the imperfections in life and allow ourselves the freedom to express ourselves without fear of being unrefined or awkward.
This is what letters can be. They can be written to yourself, never to be seen by anyone else. They can be written to a friend or loved one, which will surely bring a smile to their face. They can even be written to a stranger in hopes of buoying their spirits.
This February, please don’t let self-doubt or inner critics dictate the words that you put onto paper. Even if every letter you write is never sent, write them anyways. Write them to your younger self, your former self, the versions of yourself that you’ve since shed. Just write.
The written word is a powerful way to find connection and meaning in our lives. It’s not just a functional way of communicating about tasks or objectives. We can use words as a vehicle for self-expression, for documenting the important things in life, and, dare I say, for creating positive change in the world.
