It’s sometimes difficult to prepare yourself for work in the morning. Perhaps more so when you work from home. There’s no ‘ritual’ as such to the day, no special clothes to wear, washing routine or journey to slog through. You just have to get on and start.
When I sit down to work, though, I tend to find that a curious thing happens. I either end up in awe, or in tears. Sometimes both.
Today was both. I was reading through the work sent to me by a student, telling of her adventures over the last month in the wild woods near her home, her exploration of the elements, family difficulties…
And I was left humbled. Reading her words, beautifully handwritten and sent to me in the post, together with some equally lovely hand-drawn art, I was honoured to share in her story. The content might have seemed relatively simple, but this was a verbal snapshot of a life, there, on the page.
The reason for the handwritten letter? She’s not on the internet at all, and likely will never read this. She won’t know how I gently touched the pencil sketches, imagining them being drawn so carefully. I hope to tell her, if we ever meet. But the power of her words, in this way, was breathtaking.
By the way, it’s not just those without the technology, either. A short while ago, a parcel arrived at the door – another student had sent me a package of books, recommendations that she’d decided to flippin’ well ensure that I read! Now she may well be reading this, but I don’t intend to hold back because of that.
Stories are such an intrinsic part of my life – day-to-day, physically, mentally and spiritually – and the lives of others have the power to change my own through their words. The passion of something felt strongly enough to share is something that I will always have time for. This is never ‘work’ as it’s come to be known. Someone has taken the time and effort to send me a tale.
The tears in my eyes today are genuine, and the love for those I meet in this strange ‘job/vocation/life’ is profound. For that, I will always be grateful, and never feel that I express it adequately enough.
Those of you who share with me – this is my love letter of thanks to each and every one of you.
Oh and PS – before anyone says anything, I had a huge box of books arrive today as well. My own. That still flabbergasts me… but I’ve learned not to hug the delivery driver, as it confuses him.
Doesn’t stop me squeeing happily every time I open the package, though. 🙂