35

Love letter on my 35th birthday and 36th year of life

To the lovely fairy gardener, whose patch of earth faces the pacific ocean and soaks in the morning fog, whose dog plunders the raised beds for kale, whose heart is full with love,

Allow yourself to feel full. The fullness of belly after a bowl of warm soup and handmade soba, the fullness of heart after a day of being loved and celebrated. Imagine this nourishment landing on bare skin like a warm and refreshing rainstorm in oahu, droplets penetrating deeply. The rain is sustenence is love, to be known and held in reverence. There is no need for an umbrella in this sort of rain—surrender to it, play in the mud puddles, build clay sculptures from wet earth. Breathe in and out the gladness that is being full. The reverence and gratitude and relief.

Today I saw my mother caring for her mother, this matrilineal line unbroken with me. My mom is patient, perceptive, diligent in her care. She sits by my grandmother’s hospital bed for hours, watching her sleep. We get a snack outside the hospital, Ryan & me with fruit smoothies, my mom with coffee & pastry. Perhaps I carry an unborn daughter or son in me too, this interbeing connecting me to the ancestors and all those yet-to-be. A child is a wave in me surfacing from the vast ocean of longing. She will be loved and know love as her birthright. He will be loved and know love as his birthright.

Maybe it’s that easy. The root of fullness? To love and be loved, to be accepted fully for who we are.

I am tender after the turmoil and repair and churn of the last few weeks. I want to stop fighting. I picture myself laying down my swords in the garden - swords of hatred, shame, anxiety. What might it be like to release these protectors, if even for a moment? Is it possible to feel into deeper freedom, a body that is settled and at ease? To be vulnerable is threatening in a world where safety is not available. And yet, this place is safe. I am safe to be my full self here in this corner of the house beside the garden, the sunflowers to be and the petunias my companions. I am safe to dream big, to be upright and stable and whole. I am safe with this man and our wise elder dog. I can lay down my swords and invite my nervous system to relax. I can release the tension and anxiety that weighs my shoulders and tightens my jaw. I can exist in a body of ease and well-being.

A few years ago, in February 2023, I wrote a letter to the sangha sharing my aspiration to join the Order of Interbeing. The line that resonates now: I aspire to the courage of Thay, Sister Chan Khong, and the many young social workers who risked their lives to care for others and advocate for peace in the midst of war.

Thay and Sister Chan Khong chose a path of nonviolence and peace during a time of great suffering, and I humbly aspire to the same. My context for practicing peace has become my own body and my partnership with Ryan, not a country torn apart by war. And yet courage is needed to access true vulnerability, to let down my guard long enough to be known and loved for who I am. To lay down my swords and to step into a different paradigm that recognizes this place and these beings as safe.

I am learning to soothe my nervous system in moments of dysregulation. To bear witness to my own suffering without lashing out or blaming others. To communicate with clarity and kindness, which can mean setting boundaries and standing firm. I act with courage when I look deeply into my suffering and see a lineage of ancestors preparing for battle at every slight, looking to defend and counter. This ancestral trauma is the outcome of generations of patriarchy, avoidance, loss of homeland and family, steeling the self for a dangerous world. I act with courage when I say that this trauma will end with me.

Some part of me believes that to be cast out of the family unit is to risk death. To be hungry for the warmth of other beings, for ease and love and acceptance. This part of me imagines looking into a window from the outside and seeing a family decorating a tree for the holidays. All is merry inside, but the very positioning of the outsider is loneliness. It is this loneliness and fear of being alone that propels my anxiety and keeps my nervous system on high alert. I will do my best to hold this fear with compassion, soothing the hungry ghost within that always demands more in order to feel safe and whole.

My practice this year is to practice fullness: I am safe. There is enough love to go around. Enough time to sit quietly listening to birdsong, enough time left to try out new talents, to make art, to play, to fall in love and to marry and have children, enough joy to hold all the sorrow. I am enough. There is no need to chastise the self for any perceived lack. The challenge is to dwell in gratitude for what I have been given, for what I continue to receive as offerings from the earth and those around me, from my own loving heart.

What is next, dear one? What adventure will you embark upon? Remember the wisdom of the ancestors through the I Ching — emanate with love. Receive others with humility and nonjudgment. Show your feelings, and people will have feelings for you. The Oracle affirms with the Lake over Mountain that what I contemplate is worthy of manifestation. Commit to the endeavor and it will yield great fruition. What I put into the endeavor is what I will get out of it. 

The Oracle says too, through Water over Lake — Set the proper limits on yourself. Without boundaries, there can be no identity. Without identity, you have no sense of yourself, and thus you do not know what you really want and feel no purpose. Without purpose you will remain aimless. Your way to success now is self-discipline, and through self-discipline you will realize what you really want. Tame your emotions. Know who you are.

I am committed to healing the generational wounds of silence and cruelty that I have inherited and that I have embodied. I will not pass these wounds on to future descendents. I will do my best to take responsibility for the ways in which I have caused harm, committing to apologize and take action towards true reconciliation. 

I am committed to practicing forgiveness for myself and for those I love, to letting go of grudges that no longer serve me. I am committed to meeting my anger in wholesome ways that do not cause harm, through exercise, gardening, walking, meditation, and in silence. I am committed to not let my frustration or insecurity or fear of not being good enough transform into cruelty that slashes and destroys relationships. 

I am committed to preparing for long-term partnership and family, to doing this critical work by healing parts of myself that are calling for attention, that are dwelling in sadness and fear. I will create safety in myself so that I can be a safe harbor for those I love. I am committed to not disparaging others and not using words I do not know to be certain. Moreover, I am committed to being kind and affectionate and loving. 

Finally, I am committed to right livelihood that aligns with my gifts - my playfulness, curiosity, intuition, my capacity for deep looking and nonjudgment. I commit to pursuing new opportunities for education and learning, growing my toolkit, stepping into the stretch zone and expanding my capacity to serve.

This is the one life I have to live. Who knows where this body will be in seven generations? In 300 years? Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I will one day be gone and all I love will also be in another form. I must do my best to live each day with gratitude and embody the fullness and love that is my birthright.

Happy 35th birthday and 36th year of life, dear Melanie. I love you.

Melanie Anne Gin, 10:32pm on May 15th, 2025