I did. I sat down and wrote 'Dear God,' and then I kept going.
Funnily enough, it was incredibly soothing. I was writing and as I did, just working out on paper some of my concerns and worries. As I did, things started to change, answers started to come to me and some insights flowed out on to the page.
It's interesting how writing longhand can take you just enough outside yourself.
It does a couple of other amazing things too.
It slows you down. And when you slow down you start to get much clearer about the nature of the problem.
I could clearly hear all the thoughts that are running around up there in my head agitated and afraid - and how seriously I was taking them.
Once something is down on paper in your lap, there is just no ignoring the ridiculousness of some of what we think: "so-and-so needs to do this" or "this damn well better change" or "God, you are going to have to take over on this one!"
A teeny tyrant that wants to run the world is talking, talking, talking... and has so much to say... not much of it helpful.
How the heck are we supposed to have good ideas, be creative, or do any kind of planning or problem solving with that mess going on?
If you keep up the flow long enough and ignore the desire to stop and wallow, or actually take the words seriously, something funny can happen.
Calm descends and things settle down.
And then some wise or bright solution may drop in.
And that's wonderful.
Now I'm not saying God descends with an answer. In fact I have every reason from my own life to believe it does not work that way.
But wisdom does come. It comes from inside, or from wherever it feels like it comes from - the field, the present, the moment, the calmness, your brain. It doesn't matter. The fact is that it comes.
And it creeps up on you and blooms wherever you have enough space for it. Like a blade of grass through concrete.
I realize it wouldn't matter who I address the letter to, it would have the same effect.
And funnily enough, I can see now that writing 'Dear God' is just another way of writing to myself.