It started with a blazer that needed two more buttons, and a note I decided to slip into its pocket. Months later, it came back around in the form of three wooden buttons made for me.
A question about buttonholes
I ran into my friend Robin, who was with a mutual friend. Out of nowhere, Robin asked if I knew anyone who knew how to make buttonholes. He wanted two extra buttons on his wool blazer.
I had my sewing machine out at the time, working on a garment for Otherworld. "I've never made buttonholes before," I told him, "but I know how to make them."
He and our friend were leaving on a trip in a couple of days, and he wondered whether the blazer, with its extra buttons, could be ready in time. Not really knowing what I was getting myself into, I said, "Sure, no worries!"
The next hurdle was finding a time when we could both meet, on such a tight timeline. At one point one of us suggested I just take the blazer right then. That's when I decided to put a note in one of its pockets, something he might find some time into his travels.
Sisters, not twins
I got to work on the buttonholes. I had never worked with wool before, and it wasn't as simple as I'd thought. I did end up with two buttonholes, but they were definitely sisters at best, not twins. They weren't quite the same size.
At one point I started to spiral a bit. What if the jacket had been a gift from a grandfather who was no longer with us, or carried some other significant memory? But I kept reassuring myself that I had said these would be my first buttonholes ever. I was, in fact, popping my buttonhole "cherry" on his blazer, so he must have been okay with a finished product that wasn't flawless.
The note
As the holes looked more and more like buttonholes, I decided it was time to start on the note. I had recently gone down a bit of a sticker and washi tape rabbit hole, and what better time to use my newly acquired crafting supplies?
I started by flipping through pages of stickers. A few stood out, so I began placing them on an envelope and on a piece of cardstock that went with it. Before I realized what I was doing, I was writing speech bubbles for some of the characters, and those made it onto the envelope and the cardstock too.
The more time I spent with the stickers, the more a thought became pronounced, and I knew it was what I needed to write as the note. On the surface, I could tell the thought was quite superficial. But read in a certain state of mind, in a moment of confusion, it can also serve as a means of clarity. In that moment I realized I was channeling the message.
By channeling, I mean receiving a message that doesn't feel like it's mine. The wisdom isn't mine per se; it comes from spirit. It isn't unusual for me, and I believe it isn't unusual for any of us. When it happens, I usually preface it with something like “I'm feeling called to say this…” or “I'm not sure why this is coming up for me, but it feels important.” This one felt important.
I was also reminded that Robin and our friend were workshopping a group channeling presentation, so I knew Robin would be receptive to a channeled message.
I wrote the message out with one of my fountain pens. I remember wanting a stub nib in particular, to give the writing more of a yesteryear feeling. With the embellishments finished, I sealed the envelope. Somehow I had imagined Robin taking his time before opening it, so I included some instructions to possibly delay opening it.
It was well past midnight when it was all complete. I put the blazer in a plastic bag and delivered it to the front porch of the house where Robin was staying.
A month later: Robin's voice memo
Close to a month later, I heard from Robin about opening the letter. I had a feeling he would take his time with it.
He sent a voice memo, and it opened like this:
"Hey VoiCheck, I've been meaning to respond to you for a few days now, and I have to admit, you have set the bar high with this letter. It was so beautiful that I'm a little intimidated about how to respond to such a wonderful thing."
Here is the opening if you'd like to hear it.
A few months later: buttons in exchange
A few months after that, I randomly bumped into Robin while I was picking up my veggie subscription. We talked for quite a while: about the letter, about his trip, and about the buttons he had made from a locust tree in the backyard of our mutual friend.
He said he would like to make something for me in exchange. The idea of buttons came up, and as it turned out, he still had some of the locust tree left over, enough to make me three buttons from the same tree his own buttons came from.
Ikigai: where it all overlaps
There's a Japanese concept called ikigai, often described as your reason for being. As I understand it, it has three aspects: something you enjoy doing, something people are willing to pay you for, and being of service. Many diagrams add a fourth, something you're good at. I'll leave that one for you to decide. The place where those overlap is your ikigai.
So far I've made three Channeled Pocket Letters, and working on them brings joy to my soul. This practice feeds several of my lifelong passions: writing with fountain pens, crafting, hiding messages in plain sight and, most importantly, honouring my spirituality and connection to spirit. I believe these messages are of service. If this speaks to you, you can click here to order one as a gift for someone you love, or maybe that someone you love is you.