Riding the El was my recent proxy mission.

The El stood for Love. L is for love.

And other things.

And I was riding it, in the sense that I was learning about it.

It was at Rally (Rally!), of course, and it was Rally L which is why I was riding the El.

My name was even L. Well, it was Elle.

Even better: I was named twice, because I believe in the power of saying everything twice, and so my secret agent code name was Elle Elle Bean, and I thought this was hilarious.

L is for Love, among other things.

Love is the best feeling, and there are so many things (and people) it is possible to love and so many ways it is possible to love them.

What I especially love is words.

I love words so much (can you tell?), and sometimes when there is an especially rich letter like this one, I start to feel overwhelmed.

As if I couldn’t possibly even begin to collect all the L words that I love. That idea is ludicrous, another L-word that I love, because it reminds me of Jane. She always says, “Ludicrous! Preposterous! Impossible! Absolutely not!” and then laughs her Jane-laugh that I love.

So in order to ride the El without riding all the Ls, I am making a compass of L to hold eight beautiful L-words that I love.

And then maybe we’ll sneak some more in too. There is room.

A compass of L for riding the L.

North is for Letting.

Letting in.

Letting out.

Letting go.

Letting as in allowing. Letting: saying yes to what might be. Letting things be, as they are, in this moment, and letting that be okay.

Letting as in permission, amnesty, presence.

Letting life in. Letting love in. Letting everything that needs to go find its way (gently, safely) out.

Letting is the most beautiful hello, and the most ease-filled goodbye.

Northeast is for Less.

Because sometimes it really is more.

Heeding the whisper. Less and lessening. Less is more. That is what the whisper says right now. Do less. Think less. Make things less complicated. Less what-if and more thank-you.

Less is not necessarily about giving up, and it is certainly not about less receiving. It is about taking less on. Respecting capacity. Trusting that I don’t have to take care of everyone.

East is Luminosity.

Glowing.

Letting the light in. Shimmering. Boundaries that are translucent, so that you can glow light softly outward too.

I trust this word. I feel the truth of it. There are moments that are luminous. Getting quiet, for me, is a way of accessing luminosity.

Southeast is Laughter.

Laughing makes everything better.

It could also be the El in riding the El.

Laughing is about waves and it is about delight. It is about remembering that everything is funny: this beautiful, exquisite, sad, hard, complicated-and-simple life, the way we make things harder than they need to be, the way we cling to things that are not for us….

Sometimes, when the light is just right or the timing is just right, you can glimpse how funny it is, and you laugh a laugh that starts out a little bit bitter and dissolves into hilarity and eventually gratitude.

I was able to laugh while all the barns burned, a little, at moments, and it saved me. It lightened things.

If you have never tried laughter yoga, I recommend it. I first learned it with the old turkish ladies, and sometimes we do it at Rally. Laughter is freeing, laughter is remembering.

South is Love.

I like the southern point of the compass to be the most grounded and stable.

Words I often put at south in a compass of qualities: Ground, Anchor, Steadiness, Source.

I think it makes sense for Love to be here.

I’m talking about big love right now, capital-L love, the kind that is not dependent on other people, the kind that comes from being connected to yourself and life and aliveness.

Not that loving other people and being loved by them is not a marvelous human experience, because it is. Just that it is only an echo, a rippling out, of the kind of love that I am talking about.

Bathing in love as pure quality, filling up on on it until you are all love, and then you love the trees and the you love the wooden stairs and you love the blue bike rack, and it’s all shared molecules of love.

Sometimes I forget what this is like, and I have to go back to breath and tears, legitimacy and permission, allowing time to remember, when I can.

Anyway, it’s there whether or not I remember it, it is there whether or not I breathe it in. Welcoming it helps, but I can’t lose it. I can only think that I have lost it.

Southwest is Listening.

Listening is an astoundingly, glowingly beautiful quality, and it also might be the most advanced practice I know of.

I mean, I don’t speak at all, ever, and I still have trouble listening.

I hear much more than other people do, and I still have trouble listening.

There is always more to listen to.

Listening has to do with allowing, kindness, presence, and it also has to do with sovereignty: setting clear, loving boundaries about what you are able to listen to and when.

People ask what the hardest part of not speaking is, and there aren’t really any hard parts, except that you have to get used to hearing your thoughts.

It becomes really clear really fast that you think a lot of things that you are not interested in thinking. It is a little distressing. It takes a while to realize that you get to choose, that you get to move the radio dial to the stations you like.

Always more listening, more ways to get quieter, to go deeper inside, trusting that inside of listening is everything you could possibly need.

West is Lusciousness.

I didn’t agree to let Lusciousness in for a very long time.

I closed myself off to it, fearing how it might change me, refusing to remember the times when we were friends, and maybe even lovers.

A few years ago, it became clear that without making room for Lusciousness, I was saying no to wholeness.

I had to work through (and with) what seemed like thousands of walls and monster conversations.

I had to practice: long baths with vetiver oil and salts, soft fabrics, slow kisses.

And then I laughed, because Lusciousness is such a gorgeous part of life and aliveness that how could I have ever tried to keep it out.

I was afraid it would subvert me, distract me, destroy me, and instead it brought me back to myself.

Lusciousness: come in, come in.

Northwest is Light.

Light in both senses.

The kind that glows, and also the kind that is a lightening, a releasing.

Everything is becoming lighter. Less heavy. More filled with light.

Light is a wonderful way to close a compass. Riding the El is about bringing light into the corners, that is why I ride….

Other luscious L words that I love….

Lascivious. Luxuriate. Lollipop. Lips.

Letters (both the kind that make up words and the kind that use words to say things). Language. Liminal. Lovely.

Limestone. Legitimacy. Learning. Leaping. Lift. Ladle. Loyalty.

Things that are long, slow and deep. Lessons. Licking ice cream. Linking. Lists. Loops. Loosening. Lilacs. Lustrous.

May it be so! And come play with me.

Thank you, letter L.

If you want to whisper words or sound effects that start with L, go for it.

If you want to share in any of the qualities and magical words I named here, you can.

They work like the salves in the Friday Chicken: just take some, there is always more.

Whispering loving spells that begin with L, for myself, and for anyone who wants…