Everything Counts

The other day, I felt a sudden urge to improve my handwriting. You see, I moved around a lot as a kid, and in the course of attending five schools in my first eight years, I never learned cursive. Instead, I developed a kind of indecipherable chicken-scratch print.

But if I’m honest, the real reason my writing is illegible is that, for a long time, I didn’t want anyone to read it. I was afraid people would find my journals and poems and judge me for my process. Now, later in life, I see the cost of hiding from judgment, and I'm at a point where I want to be seen, even in my messiness.

In Islam, it’s said that every action a person takes — every thought, word, or deed — is inscribed in a book that the angels read. Some see this teaching as a way of enforcing good behavior. But I think a more beautiful interpretation is that, beneath all our defenses, there's a desire to be fully known, to have even the parts of us we hide from ourselves witnessed and understood by someone.

What would life be like if we really grasped that everything counts? If we saw that our judgments about the person on the subway, or the harsh words we speak in front of the mirror, left a mark in permanent ink? And what if life is not supposed to be a polished masterpiece with only the boldest lines left in, but a long stream-of-consciousness journal entry that God is reading every word of?

At first, we flinch at this thought, because of our habit of dividing life into categories: important and unimportant, sacred and profane, what gets posted on Instagram and what gets quickly deleted. But as we open to the idea that everything counts, we glimpse the possibility of being understood and loved in a deeper way.

I’m always fascinated by medieval scribes and how they found a way to embellish even the most ordinary words. Because they saw these words not as theirs, but as belonging to the divine. In the same way, try to bring beauty to the simple tasks of this day — the dishes, the paperwork — and see these simply as a transmission. Slow down. Take your time with each letter. Don't rush your unfolding on the page.