It's love note writing season. (It's also a time of death.)
Hello community, it's the season for love note writing!
As a coaching call this week began, I said, "It's good to see you."
"It's good to be seen," my client responded. There was a pause.
Then: "There is so much death right now."
They were talking about the deaths in their family, the mix of grief and logistics overwhelming. The comment struck deeply in me in a much larger, more collective sense, as we are individually juggling the reality of carrying on with our normal responsibilities, as we also witness the public execution of peaceful protestors in Minnesota, the deaths during civil unrest and uprisings in other countries.
There is also the death of certainty itself.
While there is always a deepening as we slow to truly see people and allow ourselves to be seen by another, there is something poignant and tender about seeing and being seen in times of sorrow. In times of uncertainty and loss, we tend toward the things that feel safe, we default to what we know.
This is why we practice, we hone our resilience skills, making default our ability to care expansively so when we are overcome with fear or are thrust into crisis mode, our capacity to tend to each other becomes easy to grasp and repeat.
One of the ways we can support people in being seen is to look for small, real, repeatable ways to integrate moments of acknowledgment—with family, with colleagues, with neighbors, with people we encounter. Developing this culture of seeing each other supports resilience in our homes and our workplaces, and not in a performative way, but by making visible what would otherwise not be seen. By providing tiny platforms for elevating the invaluable resource that is our relational infrastructure.
One small, repeatable ritual that has worked for decades for me is writing love notes or affirmations or gratitudes. An homage to all things analog and honoring the handmade as the highest value. It started as a childhood tradition. In grade school, my siblings and I would spend days creating glitter-covered, yarn-laced, sticker-adorned homemade Valentine cards. My mom insisted that we give a card to everyone in our class. Yes, even the kids who did not give us cards or who we did not particularly care for. I learned that love notes are for everyone. This practice shaped LoveYou2.org and my love note-writing practices today.
Love notes are an everyday thing for me. A love note a day or piles of them a week—it does something for my heart. It works my heart muscle, even when my heart is otherwise spent. Love notes keep me in a practice of being tender, even when my defenses might try otherwise.
Think about real-time acknowledgment. You notice someone held space beautifully in a conversation. You see your partner navigate a difficult moment with grace. You watch a friend show up even when they're exhausted. You catch the thing your child did that mattered. You observe a colleague solving something creatively.
Instead of waiting for a formal moment to tell them, you write it down. You name it. You give them the gift of being seen.
Are you afraid of it feeling like toxic positivity? Make the acknowledgement so small or so real there will be no mistake. Are you afraid all the positives mean you are glossing over real problems? Then build observational skills at the same time. (I argue for the ability to notice the details of the positive things as also honing our ability to describe the changes that need to be made.)
This practice of small affirmations is about creating the conditions where people feel they belong, where they know their presence matters, where they can trust that feedback—including the hard kind—comes from a place of care.
What would change in your immediate network if people knew—not theoretically, but with tiny proofs in the form of small paper notes—that they are seen?
You can begin this week. Printable love note templates in six languages are waiting. You can be brave and give them in person. Or be sneaky and drop them off or mail them. Slip one into someone's bag. Leave it on their desk. Add a stamp and pop into the mailbox. Tuck one under a pillow. Tape it to a mirror.
The form matters less than the effort, followed by the practice.
Love notes for everyone.
Take good care,
Shannon Weber