Every year, on Thanksgiving, I write a series of emails, letters, and texts to thank the individuals who have helped me become the person I am today – wittingly and unwittingly. Some of whom I may have never met. Some I may never meet again. And a small handful I will meet again on the other side. Nevertheless, the future likelihood our paths crossing does not change the gratitude I have toward each person.
Over time, largely due to the volume of letters I write, this practice has bled into the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Last Thanksgiving, I published 10 of the above letters (anonymized) I wrote that year as inspiration for friends, colleagues, and readers who may have been considering or writing their own. This year, I assume, won’t be an exception. And for many others who might need a gentle nudge forward, I share two letters of mine I’ve written this holiday so far to act as a potential anchor for you to start yours.
Dear…
- Centaurus – A reminder of self worth
- Cassiopeia – A chain reaction
A reminder of self worth
Dear Centaurus,
This year has been incredibly bizarre. On one hand, I’ve had some of my biggest wins in my life so far. On the other, I’ve hit low points I never thought were possible – at least for myself. Actually, especially so for myself. Yet they happened.
While many others might have seen them come and go like the autumn breeze that is blowing against my window sill as I am writing to you, you were there for me in some of my darkest times. I don’t know if it was telepathy or clairvoyance, but earlier this month you sent me one text: “Love you man. Just because.” It came less than 24 hours after a streak of 3 founders independently telling me I was not worth their time. One of which, the call ended 15 minutes into a 30-minute call. That morning I really needed that. And in that moment, I was reminded of another line you sent me last month when I asked you for a favor:
“Beautiful things don’t ask for attention.”
Thank you. I wish you and your family the warmest, the coziest, and the best of holidays. I believe the Danish call it “hyggelig.”
My deepest gratitude,
David
A chain reaction
Dear Cassiopeia,
I still remember the day I selfishly reached out to you. My internal monologue went something along the lines of: “Nah, she’s going to be way too busy to reply. But you know, what if? Nah! Maybe I should send a follow-up in a week.” 7 minutes later, my phone goes bzzzt, bzzzt. Being the phone addict that I am, I had to check and there in my inbox lied an email from you. Overly excited, I replied quickly. And your following reply, or more accurately, your voice message lit my day up like New Years.
I’m 24-years young, but sometimes, like that day, I still act like a 7-years young. At times, my friends and family tell me I should act my age. But in those moments, I admittedly unforgivably don’t.
Since then, you’ve inspired me to write a post about the psychology of curiosity and reach out to professors, like John List, to write posts like this. A chain reaction of ideas, but more importantly, your advice and feedback emboldened me to reach further. In this world that snowballed from your reply to my selfish message, 1+1 = 3.
Thank you. I wish you and your family the warmest, the coziest, and the best of holidays. I believe the Danish call it “hyggelig.”
My deepest gratitude,
David
In closing
We don’t often thank the people who’ve helped us get to where we are today often enough. I know I, for one, don’t. Thankfully, every year, despite everything else that is going on in my life and in the world, I’m reminded to set time aside to show my appreciation. A few minutes per person for me is asking very little for people who have saved me days, weeks, if not years worth of mistakes and folly.
And, the holiday season also happens to be one of the best, if not the best time to reignite old flames and to spark new ones.
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash
#unfiltered is a series where I share my raw thoughts and unfiltered commentary about anything and everything. It’s not designed to go down smoothly like the best cup of cappuccino you’ve ever had (although here‘s where I found mine), more like the lonely coffee bean still struggling to find its identity (which also may one day find its way into a more thesis-driven blogpost). Who knows? The possibilities are endless.
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