Art Saves Lives: Letter Writing as a Spiritual Practice by Ryan Jafar Artes

Here is a reminder, dear Ryan: staying grounded and rooted in the present time and current day is the most important part.

October 1, 2023
 
Dear Ryan,
 
You did it! You are doing it, and you will continue to do it, which is that which you are here to do, which is to find a way back in/to writing poetry for the purposes of abolishing adoption. I have come to realize that, and how, I am here to live my life in service to myself and my poetry first, and then all that radiates out from the center who is me, which is quite literally everything else that exists.

Writing saves my life daily. I write myself back into existence every day. Though I write in many genres, my most profound writing takes the form of letters written to myself, lovingly, from myself.

As a transracial, transnational adoptee, I was removed from my family prematurely. This act decimated my ability to feel a sense of connection. For as long as I can remember I have written letters between my various selves.

I write letters to my present, soon-to-be-past, and my emerging future selves. In doing so, I create a time capsule of the moment from which I write. I also achieve and feel and find and maintain and manufacture a sense of connection with myself.

October 2, 2023
 
Dear Ryan,
 
You are getting organized for something I cannot yet see. I understand that I am preparing for a movement into a freedom I have yet to see and hear, though I do feel and experience, because I am living my life as I have never before allowed myself to live, and I am leaning into letting go, even when attempting to hold onto myself, as I have realized my answer is to just feel, and then let go, and then feel again, and just let go again, and return to feeling, and so on, and so forth. I am getting organized for that which you presently cannot see.

Last August, after returning from a literary adventure of my dreams, I broke up with my partner. I did not have access to my usual avenues of care, support, and understanding. On top of everything to which I did not have access, I was sober.

I immediately missed my in-person communities. My literary adventure started with reading at the Uncancelled Asian American Literature Festival and ended with reading at A Day of Belonging. While at these events, I relished in the care, support, and understanding of people I love meeting and writing with virtually.

I am the only person who has ever been capable of caring for, supporting, and understanding myself.

I felt like a drink, and a smoke, and a bump were in order. I had committed myself to not doing such things, and held true to my commitment. I started talking to myself for the first time ever, which was a complex and complicated relief, as I realized in many ways that I am the only person who has ever been capable of caring for, supporting, and understanding myself.

October 3, 2023
 
Dear Ryan,
 
Every morning, I take time to come back to, and otherwise return to, myself. I go far away at night, when and whether or not I dream and when and whether or not I sleep, and arrive to each day heavy with the weight of that which I carry, and even though that which I carry is not only unknown, but also embodied by ghosts— of, for example, people(s) and knowledge(s)— it is somehow still heavy as fuck. I want, need, and desire to put down that which I carry, and at the same time I hesitate to do so, as I am not sure how I might connect with, and feel connected to, that which was to be mine, if I am and were to put down that which I carry, as putting down involves letting go, for me, and I hesitate to let go of that which I have yet/only to understand as my own, even though it— that which I carry, which is everything I was to know— most certainly is mine.

Speaking to myself allowed me to hear myself and converse with my thoughts from the perspective of coming from outside of myself, rather than remaining inside of myself as thoughts alone. When I spoke to myself for the first time, I had so many revelations. I got angry.

I cussed at everyone and everything in my life. My partner and I had broken up, and I had started talking to myself, on a Tuesday. In a writing workshop the following Friday, Seema asked us, “who do you talk to when you talk to yourself,” a timely and direct question that was at once personal to my life, and universal.

I incorporated talking to myself into my own routines of the ways in which I provide myself with care, support, and understanding. However, talking to myself was not enough. I needed more.

October 4, 2023
 
Dear Ryan,
 
I am free from myself. I am not free of myself. The difference is nuanced, slight, and, at once, important, and significant.

I did not know I had the capacity to give myself more of myself. On September 30, 2023, during a Facebook doom-scroll (which I no longer allow myself to do), I was desperately looking for a sign. I received a message: writing a letter to myself every day would change my life.

Sometimes, I am all I have, and so I refuse to ever doubt myself.

The next day, on October 1, 2023, I started writing a letter to myself every day. I became so fully immersed in my letter writing process that I had no choice but to move forward, as writing so much propelled me to do. I wrote myself back to myself, from myself.

With/in the act of letter writing, I find myself when I inevitably lose sight of who I am. I write to myself carefully and thoughtfully, tucking stickers and other mementos into my letters so my letters are always a delight for me to open. My favorite part is receiving letters, more so than writing, or sending, or opening, or reading, or any other part of the process.

October 5, 2023
 
Dear Ryan,
 
I seek to practice brevity. I do not care to explain myself, not even to my present self, or for my future self, so I might reference that which I have done. I usually never do.

On my more difficult days, I manufacture joy by opening letters and presents I have saved for myself. I turn a forgettable, rainy day into a memorable, sunny one by opening letters and presents from myself and others until I feel so happy I cannot even remember why I was sad in the first place. I am never bored with myself because there are so many versions of me I can explore.

I open and read as many letters as necessary for me to reflect myself back to myself, moving away from negativity and into positivity. I lean into trusting my past assessments of myself. Sometimes, I am all I have, and so I refuse to ever doubt myself.

I save my life, time and time again, by writing letters to and from myself. I write myself into deeper levels of understanding myself, which in turn helps me figure out how to better support myself, usually through implementing or enacting a neglected or postponed act of care. I strive to care for myself in continuously improved ways, which I can achieve by engaging in a continuously ongoing conversation with myself through my letters.

October 6, 2023
 
Dear Ryan,
 
I realized today that, and how, I have been addressing myself through my present and into my past, instead of through my present and into my future, which is as and how I want, need, and desire to do. Upon having and receiving such a realization, I came up with a plan to move away from my past, through my present, and into my future. Here is a reminder, dear Ryan: staying grounded and rooted in the present time and current day is the most important part.