A Letter To Your Future Self

Have you ever written a letter to your future self? Then sealed it and put a date on it—not to be opened until then?

Lately I have been preparing my book, A Heart Traced In Sand, Reflections on a Daughter's Struggle for Life, in order for it to be available as an ebook. The ebook will have easy links that will go to web pages containing images from Naomi’s journals, her affirmation pages, photos of her life etc. The black and white illustrations in the original will be viewable in color.

I have been going through photo albums, journals, mementos, her Make-A-Wish chronicles . . . gathering pictures and words. It has been poignant to say the least, even though I have previously seen most of the material. `

Tucked away in a photo album, I came across a small monogrammed envelope. It said, open in 0002. It is now 2020. I opened it, dated 5-5-1996. Then it says: I am 16. 

From the first sentence of this note written 26 years ago, I knew Naomi had written to her future self. She died three years later from cancer with the unopened envelope tucked away among her treasured photos.

Here are her words:

Full Of Opportunities

 

“This world is so full of opportunities that one can hardly keep up with them all. Life is so beautiful; I cherish it and want to be able to see every part of it.”

My daughter Naomi wrote these words in her journal when she was seventeen.  This was at the beginning of her intense, two year struggle with cancer that ended with her death.
As with so many of her thoughts she wrote during that period, they hold wisdom, especially since life turned cruel and painful for her but did not dim her love.

Now, nineteen years since Naomi’s passing, I find it useful and transformative to use the word “opportunity” as a mental concept during activities. Especially in situations that might be annoying or perhaps I don’t relish.

Here are recent examples:

I am sitting at the wheel of my car, stuck in traffic or at a red light that seems too long: Thanks for the opportunity to wait peacefully.
Cleaning debris and trash out of the back of my van: Thanks for the opportunity to do something simple and use my body to make the environment better.
Obey the Baha’i fast, abstaining from food or water from sunrise to sunset for nineteen days: Thanks for the opportunity to strengthen my will and offer my body joyfully to my Lord during these special hours.
Doing the paperwork to file my taxes: Thanks for the opportunity to be organized and see my transactions spanning the last year.
This practice can be used for everything—from doing dishes, to cleaning a yard, being in a crowd, lost, at the doctor—anything.

Almost any occasion can be turned to advantage when we see it as opportunity.  Naomi did. Even her end was an opportunity. Having lost her battle to win the “acres and acres” of life she so longed to have, then suffocating as her lungs failed, she said to a friend who stood behind her wheelchair massaging her shoulders, “I love my body, it has been so good to me.” Naomi took her last moments as an opportunity to give thanks before leaving her physical frame forever.

No Pain, No Gain

"Man's fate is according to his pains." -Robert Herrick, (English, 24 August 1591 – 15 October 1674)


Is fasting like weightlifting? Yes. They both abide by the dictum, “No pain no gain.”
A body builder must push his muscles to greater exertions in order to build them. In the process he feels pain. Microscopic muscle fibers tear, only to be rebuilt stronger with greater mass.

The other day, on the sixteenth day of my nineteen day fast, (see previous post), I was leaving my gallery, riding my bike to the lot where I park my van. I felt lightheaded, and realized hunger and thirst in the background of my activities. Turning a corner, I took hold of the distress. I had the feeling of being able to lift it up like a weightlifter; as if I were exercising spiritual muscles. I felt stronger by stressing my body—same as working out. But inasmuch as this effort is aimed at relying upon the pleasure of God, a much more lasting result is achieved by building spiritual character.

The road to achievement runs through hardship. My daughter Naomi Boone (January 11, 1980 - July 5, 1999)  knew this. She was diagnosed with cancer, which ultimately took her life at the age of nineteen. In the beginning of her ordeal, she wrote in her journal, “Hardship will make us stronger. I think that in every situation, there is good in it.”

No Hay Problema

Television has disappeared from my life entirely in Mexico and I don't miss it. Time is spent being creative—painting, shooting street photography and processing the pictures, studying Spanish, writing, doing inner practices that are transforming. 

If I want news, I go online and read the New York Times.

The local produce is great. For breakfast, eggs, bacon and toast with fresh coffee. Usually no lunch, maybe a pastry with coffee after nap, and dinner is whatever I pick up fresh during the day.

I went out for “desayuno”, breakfast, today for the first time in over two weeks. The little restaurant across the street beckoned me and I had huevos rancheros, toast and coffee. Then I came back to my apartment and did laundry in the kitchen sink. No hay problema. 

The weather has been sublime, and each day as I walk the city streets the air touches me with gentle warmth as slight breezes play. I love the light. Especially splashed across the brightly colored walls and cobbled walks and streets.

Today is Saturday. Yesterday I stopped painting since I leave on Monday for Ecuador and the panels need to dry, which takes a few days. I have more time to walk about. This morning I found arts & crafts fairs, street festivals, farmers markets with live musicians . . . so much going on and people in festive moods. I bought a hand made leather journal with blank pages to write my “notes to God”. I had the good fortune to purchase it from the man who made it. It is leather and embossed with stylized dancing figures. My current one began September 8, 2009. It is a little red leather bound book with strap. Just for inner talk with God. Other journals are for anything.

At the farmers market all sorts of fresh organic foods were being offered, along with native home made Mexican cuisine, hand made salsas, jams, breads, and such.

Back at the apartment, I got into a text conversation with Therese at my gallery. At that moment, a woman was considering purchasing a painting. We typed a couple texts about price and shipping, and then the woman bought the painting. Satisfying, especially since in Santa Fe it is the slowest tourist part of the year and the Boone Gallery is only open part time. Also because the painting was made during my stay in Venice, Italy, last year. This confirms for me that I am blessed to be able to go anywhere and paint the scenery. People enjoy this.

Venice painting

A nap, then out on the streets again—walking for miles. I have become familiar with and know major landmarks like Plaza Principal at the city heart where the big “Templo” stands. I try to walk places I have not been. This afternoon I found a marvelous old church, Templo de San Juan de Dios. The place was empty and I had it to myself. Light was pouring in from stained glass windows high above, casting soft glowing colors on the warm white walls. Jesus figures, created lovingly and given great feeling were there, along with Mary sculptures. The floors under the humble wooden pews are marble and decorative. I lingered, shot photos and felt holiness.

Later, on the street again, aroma from a shop selling rotisserie roasted chickens over wood fire stopped me. For about $2.50 I bought half a chicken, with roasted potatoes and green chile thrown in for good measure. I tied the bag to my belt and walked on. At Plaza Principal, great festivities were in swing. Mariachi musicians, balloon sellers, children playing, a clydesdale horse, and a donkey decorated with flowers. Flower garlands were popular with the females who put them on their heads with smiles and laughter. Muy bonita! 

Flower garlands, waiting to crown a head.

As I was heading home, a little girl was suddenly by my side. Her poor peasant family was at the curb. She pointed to my bag of chicken and sheepishly held out her hand. No hay problema. I gave her part of my supper. 

And that is the way of life down here in Mexico.

Link  to paintings by Steven Boone