Dear Reader
There are questions we ask because we are looking for answers…
And then there are questions we carry.
Questions about who we are and who we are becoming. About the lives we are building. About success, and whether our definition of it still belongs to us. Sometimes the questions are about relationships, rest, change, belonging, or simply what it means to live well.
Dear M. was created for those questions.
In my talks, coaching sessions, and conversations, people have asked me many questions that deserved more time than I could give them in the moment. Questions that seemed to call for a simple answer.
But I have learned that simple answers often take time.
They need to be considered, questioned, understood, and sometimes lived before they reveal themselves.
Perhaps this comes from my background in psychology and philosophy, or perhaps it comes from years of being endlessly curious about why we think, feel, behave, and relate the way we do. Either way, I have learned not to underestimate the obvious. What appears simple on the surface is often wonderfully complex underneath.
So I decided to create a space where I could spend more time with these questions—and write about some of the answers I have been contemplating for a very long time.
But don't be fooled…
This is not an advice column in the traditional sense.
I don't believe that the most meaningful questions about being human can always be answered with five steps, a better morning routine, or another thing to add to our already crowded lives.
Sometimes, what we need is simply a place to think.
Dear M. is a correspondence about being human—a space where the questions of everyday life become invitations to look a little deeper. And sometimes, the answer won't be conclusive. Sometimes a good question will simply lead us to another one.
That's part of the point.
For this little mission, idea, creative endeavor—whatever Dear M. eventually becomes—we will turn to psychology and science to understand ourselves better. We will borrow from philosophy to question what we have come to accept as true. And we will use coaching not to prescribe an answer, but to help us discover what our own answers might be.
Sometimes, we may simply sit with a question long enough to notice something we hadn't noticed before.
Because how we live is shaped, in part, by how we relate: to ourselves, to one another, to our bodies, our work, our ambitions, our disappointments, and the world around us.
That is the idea behind Relational Practice—and Dear M. is one place where we get to practice it together.
Some letters will begin with questions sent to me. Others will begin with questions I find myself carrying. Some may come from a conversation, a book, a piece of research, or one of those ordinary moments that unexpectedly asks us to reconsider something.
And many, I hope, will come from you—my clients, my friends, and my readers.
I don't expect us to arrive at perfect answers.
I hope we arrive at better questions, deeper understanding, and perhaps a more intentional way of living.
So bring your questions.
The complicated ones.
The ordinary ones.
The ones you think you should already know the answer to.
We'll make some room for them here.
With care,
Madda