Letters of Love
Extraction - that's the word I've recently heard Bear Hébert use when describing a key value of Capitalism. Underpinning this is a belief in getting the most money from the least output, as quickly as possible and no matter what it takes. We are told that when selling we need to press on people's pain points, highlight their problem so that we can sell them our solution. We need to hint at their brokenness, their incompleteness. And then we need to create a sense of panic and urgency with a suggestion of scarcity - that if they don't act NOW they'll miss out and will have to limp on by themselves. We are taught to persuade them that we have the answers they're looking for - regardless of whether or not we do. We may end up twisting ourselves into all sorts of unnatural shapes to sell our wares. We may offer incentives to buy quickly, discounts to those who pay upfront - and penalties to those who pay in instalments. We might hint at our stuff flying off the shelves, even if it isn't. This all sets up the people we're selling to as our prey…
The stories we hold about ourselves are so important. They impact our thoughts, feelings and behaviours - and our mental health. The really, really good news is that if we're up for looking our stories right in the eye then we have the opportunity to start re-authoring them.
It has been incredibly moving to read the scores of responses to the question I asked recently on Instagram: "Is there a narrative you have about yourself that you would like to hold a little more loosely in the coming year?" One of my missions with Middle Years Monday is to bring a sense of connection and belonging to women in their middle years. Witnessing each other's truths and seeing that there is so much crossover with our own, is one of the best antidotes to loneliness and that feeling of being an outsider or a bit of a weirdo. So I want to share two things with you today…
I'm not quite sure how to talk to you about today's Letter of Love without sounding cheesy.
The truth is that I am sitting here with Frazey Ford playing (again!) and I am crying as I write this to you. That's how moving I find the words from Véronique that I have the utter privilege of sharing with you today - despite this being the third or fourth time that I've read them.
It seems especially stunning to me that she is able to write so evocatively in a language that is not her mother tongue...