National Handwriting Day

Thinking about the words we write and the shapes of our letters

Charlotte Bronte’s tiny manuscript

Today is National Handwriting Day, and while it might seem something random at first, it’s a significant topic that I was so happy to be given this extra moment to pause and reflect on. I learned that this national day started in 1977 when teachers and professors were worried that the skill of handwriting wasn’t being valued, and was even starting to be lost. You can read a little bit more about the day, its story and meaning, styles of handwriting, the history of handwriting, and ways to celebrate this day today in this nice article here. 

I want to share a little about why this day feels significant to me and why handwriting itself is meaningful in my life. I’ve already shared a few mentions of handwriting, in particular my mom’s handwriting. On New Year’s Eve I shared about when she wrote the cover title and my name for my song, ‘Legacies.’ And after her birthday show at Brooklyn Steel, I wrote about when she wrote out all of our names for the t-shirt design. In case you didn’t see that post, this is what I had written:

‘I loved standing over my mom’s shoulder watching her process, seeing her hand flow so nicely. It reminded me of when I stood over her shoulder in the same way watching her write the wording for the cover of my song in 2019. She has such a strong focus in everything she does. It’s always authentic, and always this mix of power and delicate grace. Not delicate as in frail, but delicate like a spiderweb. It’s strong, intricate, occasionally urgent, with planning and craftsmanship behind it. Like a piece of fine hand painted china. Looking at this picture, I can hear the nib of her pen. I love the sound of writing - of her writing, like an extension of her speaking and singing voice.’

That is exactly how it feels, her handwriting. You might have noticed on my page, my name is written in penmanship. That is actually my mom’s handwriting from my baby book. I love seeing the way she writes my name at different times. From 1987 when I had just been born, from 2019 when I realized my first song, and from just a couple months ago. The name is the same, the letters are the same, the energy is the same, as it is her own visible voice of penmanship. When she wrote my name in 1987, she only knew me as a little new born baby, whose name she and my dad had chosen before I entered the world. Writing it now is different, as I am an adult and we have nearly 4 decades of memories shared together, she knows me as a fully formed person, with my own mind and experiences. I wonder how writing my name is different for her now than it was back then, if the meaning and significance feels different. I imagine it has, but I’ll have to ask her.

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Before I wrote about what the mechanical process of handwriting evokes, and today I tried to put into words what looking at completed handwriting feels like - something written down on paper in ink or pencil. It’s not that we can hear it, or feel it physically, it’s more that we can sense it. To look at someone’s handwriting is a unique experience. It’s like seeing some secret element of someone - their inner voice, their inner self, their true personality, the quiet of their authentic self. Our handwriting is like our speaking voice, our body language, our facial expressions. It is a way of expressing ourselves that is so deep and pure, it can tell the story of our lives, it can say so much beyond the meaning of the words we are writing. It captures an essence of us in a different way than anything else. Like an imprint. I am certainly no expert on this topic, and I know there is so much I can learn through research and study, through speaking with calligraphers and those who study manuscripts and signatures. I would love to know more. For now, I just know from my own observation and from my own experience. 

Think of each person you know closely and the people throughout their lives. Do you know their handwriting? Would you be able to recognize it easily? Do you remember handwriting from someone from your past? Maybe a teacher who meant a great deal to you. Maybe letters or postcards from a grandparent or loved one. How do you feel when you remember their handwriting or look at an example of it?

I can think of different examples of handwriting from people in my life and each one contains and expresses such an element of their personality, their spirit, their energy. Rebecca Foon, the co-founder of our non-profit Pathway to Paris has such beautiful and elegant handwriting, seemingly carried over from an era long gone, flowing so joyfully and gracefully like flowers blowing in the breeze. She would always write our ‘thank you’ cards by hand after an event, an added gift to align perfectly with the words of gratitude and kindness being expressed from her heart.

The first time I remember seeing her handwriting was in our first meeting together in 2014. We were sitting in a cafe planning our first event, and I brought a dark blue hardcover journal to take notes in. As we brainstormed, she wrote out our action items and thoughts in the book for us, and I was struck by her beautiful handwriting and the way the pen moved horizontally across the page like a dancer. I still have that blue notebook, and I love to look through it, both to remember that first meeting and the feeling of excitement and potential of our work together, and also just to see her handwriting itself.

Becky's handwriting

My dear friends Jaclyn and Laura also have unique and beautiful handwriting. Jaclyn is a friend I became much closer with this summer, spending time with her and her two children. I really love her handwriting, and she is very tactile with everything she does, keeping her calendar of tasks and thoughts collected in a notebook instead of on the computer or phone, writing daily pages in a journal, always keeping writing implements and books ready in a bag wherever she goes. Sometimes when we are working together I get distracted by the focused flow of her pencil on the page, the numbers and lists, and the way the letters are so clear and visible, warm on the eyes.

Jaclyn's handwriting

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My friend Laura and I have been closely bonded since we were nine years old, and ironically we actually met through handwriting - through a letter I wrote to her in 4th grade, asking her to be my friend. She wrote me back with such kindness and fun, saying yes of course that she would love to. :) I can remember her handwriting throughout the years of our lives, in the form of notes passed to each other in class, drawings and games. I was always amazed how she could write so small and clear, these rounded little words like Charlotte Bronte’s tiny manuscript from when she was 13. Laura’s handwriting has changed a bit as an adult, only because it is often done in the light and windy energy of big projects and time sensitive planning, but the personality remains the same now as it always was, and I can conjure up the shapes of her letters in my mind as though they were a font I am used to typing with, as though they themselves were an old and dear friend to me. Even if I can’t remember the content of the notes we wrote each other in class, I remember the forms of her words, the invitation and friendliness of everything she shared.

Laura's handwriting today

 Thinking of everyone in my life, I can imagine their handwriting and I sense a part of them, a specific part of who they are. It’s hard to describe but I am sure you know exactly what I’m referring to thinking of the people in your life. I always find it fascinating too when I look up the handwriting of a musician, writer, singer, artist I admire. Or see for the first time the handwriting of someone I’ve known for a short or long time. A new bit of knowledge and discovery always seems to arise, and somehow it often feels surprising. 

Examples of Emily Dickinson's handwriting

My brother’s handwriting. My godmother’s handwriting. Ones that are deeply significant and special to me. I have postcards from my Grandma that she wrote me later in her life, and it’s interesting how her handwriting evolved and changed from when she was much younger. She signed a portrait of herself as a gift for my grandpa, maybe when she was in her twenties, which hangs framed in my mom’s kitchen. I like to look at her inscription, and think about her writing that to him, the love that is held in those words and that signature. When I read her postcards and letters to me, I well up with tears thinking about her intention and her mind, that it was held just for me while she was writing, and all that intention and love is contained there in those words, in her beautiful handwriting. I save all the cards and letters from loved ones. Grocery lists, post it notes, set lists, chord charts, recipes, action plans, to do lists, birthday cards - there are so many beautiful things I couldn’t imagine parting with. Somehow it’s like a little piece of them and I just want to keep it safe. 

A framed note on a wall in Italy, Becky with a birthday message for Bill McKibben, Anne Waldman making a sign for a rally

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Laura and I lost touch for a few years when we were late teenagers, going through our own challenges of discovering our own paths as teens often do, though we eventually reconnected in a similarly special way as when we originally became friends. When I was 19, I started working at a bookbindery, a very important and special part of my life and evolution that is sacred and special to me. It’s a much longer and more involved story that I will tell in more detail at a later time, but in short - I was working at the bindery, and I loved binding books and making paper so much that I started my own business. A great bookbinder and letterpress printer friend who was helping me with my business, and who taught classes at the bindery, came up to me one morning in the studio and said that a student from her medieval binding class the evening before had known me somehow. I was surprised and asked who it was, having no idea who it possibly could be. It was Laura. I couldn’t believe it. I went home and looked her up online, and we met in person after those sad years of not seeing each other. It turned out she had studied book arts in college, and I had found myself working in a bookbindery. We were amazed, moved, and also not surprised somehow. Our friendship had always been other worldly and special in ways that were beyond our scope of understanding, and we had always been aligned and in sync in strange and unexpected ways. Those years apart were necessary somehow for our own evolution, and of course we found each other again in this serendipitous and magical way. We have stayed close as two neighboring trees in the forest ever since, sharing our roots and supporting each other to build out our own branches. <3

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 There are several reasons why binding books was such a special practice to me. Of course because I love books and reading, because I love to make things from scratch with my hands and the experience of repeating tasks, because I love writing, because I love handwriting. All of these things and more. Another reason is part of a healing journey of discovery and rediscovery - because the experience of my own personal handwriting has been an unexpected one of navigation and adapting. 

Happily bookbinding <3

If you know me closely, you know that my handwriting is quite rough, illegible, inconsistent, and just all over the place. I am a ferocious notetaker during a class or study, and it starts at one level of messy and as the pages continue it digresses into a total chaotic disaster. For this reason, I usually do my writing and brainstorming, note taking and organized work on the computer. It wasn’t always like this. When I look at notebooks I had when I was younger - in elementary school, middle school, and the first 2 years of high school, it’s strange for me because I almost don’t recognize it. It’s so different and almost seems to be from someone else. It is me though, and would continue to be me if I was able to evolve my handwriting in a natural and easier way. 

When I was 16, I was playing basketball in the local gym for a class through my high school. It was one of these experiences where I had tapped into something in myself that I didn’t know was there. I was on a team of 3 girls playing against a larger group. Somehow the three of us had fallen into this incredible pacing and rhythm, and we were scoring basket after basket. I had never really played basketball before, and I remember the sensation of just falling in love with the sport, with the feeling, with the flow of everything. I felt connected with the other two girls as though we were one mind making decisions in real time - this amazing experience of teamwork and a new brand of communication. I was on the track and field team, but that was a different kind of sport and a different experience of teamwork. This was something new. It was so exciting, powerful. I remember the specific feeling of it all so well, I just wanted it to continue. I was mesmerized by that fire, like all my worries and fears washed away in that moment, like we could have achieved anything. I felt like I could have lived in that basketball game forever.

At one point during the game, the ball was flying down towards me, and I put my hands up to catch it. I can still see that ball falling down as if from the sky. Something happened in the way it landed on my hands, and it hit the ring finger on my right hand. I heard a loud crack pop sound, I felt a shocking sensation, I pulled my hand against my body and started crying out in pain and fear as the basketball hit the floor. I knew something bad had happened. I immediately rushed home and my mom took me to the emergency room. My hand had swelled up badly, and we didn’t know if anything was broken. We waited a long time, and once we were able to see a doctor, they did an x-ray and didn’t seem too concerned. No broken bones and not much of an explanation. They put a splint on my finger and said it would be fine very soon.

This was the beginning of many years of pain in the joint of my ring finger, throughout my right hand, and a buildup of scar tissue in my forearm that resulted in pain, discomfort, and weakness. When I took the hospital splint off, my finger had healed improperly, set behind the rest of my fingers. I sought out help from experts, fearing that I would lose dexterity and ability, unable to write words or play piano. At first I wasn’t able to use my right hand at all, and as time went on and it healed, as I got regular help, stretched, and I slowly used it more, I found that certain hand shapes were affected more than others. The hand shape of playing piano and typing on the computer felt fine. More rounded shapes like bowling (something I really loved to do) and writing with a pencil or pen were extremely uncomfortable at first, and if I did either of these for more than 10-15 minutes, it became incredibly painful. I remember the first time I tried bowling after this injury, something I had always been good at as there was a bowling alley at the end of our street in Michigan, and I really loved to bowl with my brother whenever I visited him there. I thought I was ready to try it again, and I went bowling when I thought my hand had healed, and the pain was excruciating. There was so much weakness and strain, and something about that hand shape which had never bothered me before was now a painful and unpleasant experience. I cried so much at the bowling alley that day, both from the discomfort of the physical feeling, and from the sadness of losing something nice that had once given me such playful joy.

The same story went for writing by hand.    

I found myself worried about losing the ability to write well with a pen or pencil. My mom tried to teach me how to write with my left hand, but I was not diligent enough with my practicing and I never developed the skill. This is actually something I would love to try again sometime.  I recently stumbled upon an artist on Instagram who is doing a 1 year challenge of trying to write and draw with her left hand. I would like to join her in the challenge. Would you like to join too? Here is her page. I also saw several articles about how to develop your left hand for writing, so I would like to look more into it. If you have any tips or thoughts about that I would love to hear them. 

So going back to the bookbindery, this is a reason that making paper and binding books was so deeply meaningful of a practice to me. I love everything about bookbinding and every step of the process, and there was something healing about making notebooks for other people to use. If I wasn’t able to fill my notebooks with beautiful penmanship, I wanted to make them for other people to use. It made me sad sometimes, it made me want to write my own books, and it also just made me feel so happy and honored to help along others in their writing journeys. 

Some of my bound notebooks, binding tools, and an example of my own handwriting on display in a printing exhibition

I have never stopped writing in notebooks, even though my handwriting is sometimes illegible, even though sometimes my hand gets tired or it just hurts. I’ve had a lot of help from my chiropractor, from other physical wellness practitioners, and I have gotten much better about keeping a regular and consistent stretching practice to build strength and flexibility in my hand again. For the sadness that surrounded it, I also did some really beautiful and deeply helpful reflection and processing around the injury and how it changed my life during my grief support training in 2018. I will write more about that sometime soon, too. All of these things and more have helped me figure out how to navigate because writing was too crucial a practice for me to ever lose touch with. When I do longer intentional writing sessions, like my Substack posts or something else, I always use my computer. If I am in a class, a seminar, a conference, studying, brainstorming, anything like that, I almost always use a notebook. I don’t like typing notes on the computer. Something special happens when taking notes in a notebook, when writing with a pen. I always tap into unexpected parts of my mind, memories, realizations. I have sudden and unexpected creative ideas or plans, most of which never come to fruition, are never fully realized or revisited, but that feeling is so powerful and encouraging. I don’t think every idea has to leave the imagination stage, so I don’t feel sad about that. I think some ideas are meant to serve and feed your soul, to bring you inspiration and fire, to remind you of everything that resides inside of you, waiting to be tapped into at any time. To me that is just so beautiful and exciting, something to celebrate, something to elevate and charge you at any time. 

So today is National Handwriting Day, and here is my takeaway: I appreciate the beautiful penmanship and handwriting of the people I love and admire. I appreciate the art of handwriting, the skill of it. I appreciate the stories our handwriting tells. My handwriting, while messy and illegible at times, while a bit chaotic and strange, tells a story of my life. Looking at my handwriting when I was 14, there is a story held there. Looking at my handwriting after age 16, a new story begins, my life continues, and I learned new ways to navigate. This year, I would love to learn a whole new way to navigate. I’m 36 now, so it’s been exactly 20 years since that epic basketball game, and I think it would be amazing to celebrate National Handwriting Day by making a pledge to myself to try to start learning to write with my left hand. I also want to make another pledge to more wholeheartedly appreciate and honor the handwriting of my right hand, because to be honest, when I look at my notebooks from now, I see myself in the writing and an essence of myself, just as I see in the handwriting of others.

Typing or writing, they are both okay :)

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Whenever we do a Pathway to Paris event, we print a batch of posters and have everyone who performed and spoke sign them all. After the event, we give them out to everyone who performed, spoke, volunteered, and helped in production, and we sell the rest of them to raise additional funds. It’s always a nice bonding experience before the concert, everyone huddled backstage taking turns, helping each other, talking and getting to know each other. I used to sign with my full name, but doing those posters for me became challenging when my hand would start hurting after the repetitive motion again and again. To make it easier, while signing a big batch of those posters at one of our events in 2017, I shortened my signature to just my first name, and partially inspired by Flea’s signature, which is his name in capital letters and a drawing of his teeth, I added a heart. So as a navigation edit, my signature changed, and it’s been the same ever since. It might be a little silly to sign with just my first name, but I like having a chance to add a little heart, something I certainly wouldn’t have done if it had remained my full name. That’s kind of nice. :) At all of our events, we also have a moment where the lights come up, and Bill McKibben leads the audience in writing a handwritten letter to an elected official. We gather the letters after the concert and deliver them right away to wherever they need to go. It’s one of my favorite moments that happens during our events, and I just love all these examples of connection through handwriting, both backstage and in the audience.

Pathway to Paris ‘Action Pens’ used by the audience during each of our events for live action letter writing campaigns

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So those are some of my thoughts and stories around handwriting, around how we arrive at different parts of ourselves, and how we express them to others. There is so much more I want to ask and share, and as I continue my discoveries and learning, I will post more. Typing to you today feels very special, and I will write today, too, with a favorite pen held proudly in my hand. <3

My 3rd grade teacher was very worried about the way I held my pencil and she tried to help me hold it in a more proper way. Maybe she was right, and maybe if I had listened and practiced, I would have had more beautiful penmanship. Or maybe I would have experience less pain because of an unnatural strain I was putting on my hand. Maybe if I would have settled down a little during that basketball game I would have been able to focus more, and maybe I would have caught the ball at a better angle and not injured myself. Anything could have happened but this is what was meant to happen. 

‘Everything happening perfectly.’ Always. 

What are your thoughts on handwriting? Are there people in your life or in your past whose handwriting stands out to you in some way? Is there any public figure or person from history whose handwriting you admire or were surprised by? Did you ever have an injury that altered or changed your life in a small or significant way? What sort of thoughts come up for you when reading these stories and thoughts? I would love to hear them. 

Happy National Handwriting Day, everyone. Sending good wishes to you and to your beautiful hands. Let’s all spend a little time today saying ‘thank you’ to our hands for all they do for us every day. I am so grateful for my hands and I feel very blessed and deeply lucky to have them.  

**PS, I started bowling again a few years ago, and while I have to use a very light ball, take a lot of breaks, and my hand hurts for about a week after, I am able to bowl again, and that makes me so happy. Maybe someday I’ll be brave enough to touch a basketball again!! Who knows. <3 Either way, I’m looking forward to the continued adventure. :)