journaling

Full Circle – Day 1111

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My Wild Son – Photo: unknown

Full Circle

I’ve been looking forward to reaching this moment and yet dreading it at the same time. We all know it’s been on my mind – it’s not as if I haven’t kept a running “T minus” count at the bottom of each post. So here it is. My Act of Power is complete. And the weirdest thing of all is how truly ‘full circle’ I’ve come. It’s more than you might think.

When I wrote my first post in the Act of Power I ended up dubbing my ‘1111 Devotion,’ all I knew was that the goal was set. I didn’t project into the future. In fact, I remember dividing 1111 by 365 just to see roughly how long my commitment would play out. And I distinctly remember wondering what day the project would end but making the conscious decision not to figure it out ‘with specificity.’ I didn’t want to consciously know the end date. In some way, I think I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. Who knew what might happen between then and now? In spite of my very best intentions, circumstances might have interrupted my efforts – so why put a date on it.

Over the past few months I began to get a sense of what the end date would be. (Yeah, I know. I’m weird.) And the fact that this effort on behalf of honoring Karl would end tonight seemed, oh, I don’t know. Too perfect.

Last Night

And so it was only last night that I finally permitted myself to pull out my journal from the time when Karl died and check some of the dates that were dancing around in my head. What I discovered may have contributed to my difficulty writing last night’s post. No. They absolutely did. My mind was going both a million miles a minute and simultaneously whirring, sort of stuck in neutral, in another time and place.

I was both rejoicing and thanking myself for keeping such detailed notes of thoughts, feelings, experiences, and messages – and also feeling a profound regret for not having kept even better records. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying that I was berating myself. It was more a feeling like when you’re watching a great movie or reading a book that’s totally engrossing and yet…you want more.

On some level, I knew I’d feel this way even as I was walking through our shock and grief. That’s why I did make an effort a couple of times to write out in copious detail some of the more amazing experiences we had. But there were many, many more mundane connections and contacts made between Karl and us in the days and weeks following his drowning. One thing that apparently happened frequently – so frequently that I clearly started taking it for granted – was a classic sign of the presence of spirit: a sudden and often fleeting feeling of a cold draft or pocket of air.

Funny. I totally forgot that that happened a lot in the two weeks or so immediately following his death. And yet even other people experienced it. Even people who called me to say they felt his presence in that moment and had a word or a message to convey.

Karl holding Spartacus (approx 4 weeks old) – Photo: L. Weikel

Tip of the Iceberg

And all of this is just a taste of what I re-discovered when I went back and started reading my entries from that time. As I said above, it sent me into a reverie that, honestly, I feel I’m still in.

Indeed, a part of me wanted to try to write this final post in my 1111 Devotion ahead of time. What?!? And break with tradition? I’m pretty sure you all know I’ve written each and every post spontaneously, every night, often jettisoning an idea that had been lurking at the edge of my mind in favor of a thought, inspiration, or outrage that was simply too compelling to quell.

So no. I couldn’t write this ahead of time. And now we’re sort of stuck with this polyglot of thoughts.

YCMTSU

But of course, I must conclude with the final YCMTSU (You Can’t Make This Stuff* Up) of this 1111 Devotion. Today is November 26th 2021. Our Gathering in honor of Karl was held – you guessed it – on the Saturday following Thanksgiving in 2011: November 26th. This post, because of the way I stay up late writing and have it set up so that the email version gets batch posted at 1:00 a.m., will actually be posted on Saturday.

So yeah. Through absolutely ZERO planning or intention on my part, this 3+ year endeavor, based solely on writing 1111 consecutive posts (in tribute to his death on 11/11/11 – at or about 11:11 p.m. Pacific Time) is ENDING on 11/26 (my Friday night), but technically Saturday – the literal day on which his Gathering took place ten years ago.**

There’s More

Reading my journal entries has reminded me of some experiences that I’m still digesting, in that I honestly believe they mean more to me now than they did when they occurred. It’s almost as if they’re messages that I wrote down then but were meant for me to read and recall now.

This is something that happens a lot with dreams and shamanic journeys. That’s because time is an illusion, and sometimes we receive messages or have dreams that we know or feel are profound, but don’t really make sense in the ‘now.’ It’s only when we go back and read them weeks, months, and sometimes even years (or decades) later do they click into place.

Ah yes. Good stuff.

But in the meantime? I thank you all for sharing this epic journey with me. Knowing at least one other person (besides Karl – he has to live with me, so he was kind of obligated to at least fake it) was reading my words meant the world to me. Instead? I was blessed with so many of you.

Thank you.

Karl and I opening Sacred Space at Karl’s Gathering 10 years ago today – Photo: Ellen Naughton

*you know what I really say
**As usual whenever I mention 1111 Devotion, I added the link to the very first entry I wrote (the ‘Devotion’ post), above. For the first time in a very long time (ever?), I re-read it just now in its entirety and I see that – apparently – I DID calculate that this would end on November 26th. What I realize is that it obviously didn’t even CLICK that this would be the exact 10 year anniversary of his Gathering; and as a corollary to that, I don’t think I was counting eggs, much less any chickens, at that point. I can confidently say I never assumed I’d reach this goal without missing a day. I still can’t believe it.

(T-0)

What Don’t I Know – Day 836

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My Mother – 1939

What Don’t I Know

Perhaps it’s because my mother was 42 when she had me – and her mother was 42 when she had her. I don’t even know if I know how old my mother’s grandmother was when she had my grandmother; it’s been a while since I logged into my Ancestry account. But that highlights an ache I have deep down: what don’t I know about the people whose genes run through me? Who were they? What did they value most in life? Did they have talents or abilities that I might share if only I knew about them? How did they deal with conflict, adversity, and success?

One of my pre-pandemic secret pleasures was watching Finding Your Roots on PBS. The show, hosted by Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr., traces the ancestral roots of at least two celebrities each episode. Sometimes the lineages of people you’d never think would have any relation to each other do, in fact, intersect. Almost always there’s something quite fascinating uncovered in either the tracing process or the DNA analysis that gives new perspective or insight into themselves to the person lucky enough to be a ‘guest’ on the show.

Full disclosure: there’s no reason I couldn’t watch it now. It just so happened that I would watch the show on the evenings that Karl would be traveling on business and staying somewhere overnight. He doesn’t seem to share my delight in the discoveries made about the lives of other people’s ancestors, and it’s rare I have the television clicker to myself nowadays. (Not that I’m complaining.)

An Amazing Story

I’m bringing this up because I read an astonishing story this morning in The Washington Post that I want to share with you. It’s the story not only of a woman of unfathomable determination and courage. Indeed, her story alone ended up warranting its own book. But even more moving to me is the fascinating reality that her own progeny had no idea how her story, her courage, her choices so profoundly impacted the generations that came after her.

This story captivated me.

The tale of Henrietta Wood’s progeny’s serendipitous discovery of her impressive story was equally delicious in its own way.

Why I Write

There are times when I’m writing in my journal about the mundane details of my life that I wonder if anyone will ever read my words someday and think, “My great grandmother was really strange. No wonder I am the way I am.” OK, maybe I think that when I’m writing about some of the more magical aspects of my life.

But still.

I’m sad that I don’t have the journals of my ancestors. I’d love to know how they thought about things and why they made the choices they did.

I wish I were a celebrity worthy of having my lineage traced by the myriad staffers on Finding Your Roots.

What don’t I know about those who came before me that might completely shift how I think about myself?

(T-275)

Pandemic Journal – Day 755

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My Pandemic Journal – Photo: L. Weikel

Shortly into this downhill slide our country is experiencing, I felt in my bones that something wasn’t right. Indeed, I wrote a post about what I saw unfolding in our country that, upon re-reading it for the first time this evening, has me sort of wondering at the sad accuracy of my screed back at the beginning of March (almost nine months to the day ago). And while I was finishing up the last few pages of my journal at the time, I actually started a new one on the 7th of April – and eerily enough, declared on the very first page that it would probably end up being my “Pandemic Journal.”

To quote myself and my inelegant observation that day: “The shitstorm has already started.”

Our Unique Experiences

I suspect every person who keeps a journal has some idea in the back of their head that someone, someday, may find value in the description of our mundane lives and thoughts, our descriptions of what we encounter in our daily lives, and how we perceive the slow steamroller of life’s events. It’s intriguing to me to consider that what I take for granted as everyday normality will someday read as a curiosity. Quaint, even. But that’s ok. That feels like a normal evolution of consciousness. It’s the way we are.

I nevertheless wish I could read the musings of my own ancestors. Would I find their thoughts and innermost contemplations quaint? Or would I find them even more profound than I sometimes fancy my own? (I’d like to think I would.)

Cool Opportunity

Anyway, just today I discovered this very cool project being undertaken by the University of Connecticut. It’s called the Pandemic Journaling Project. I encourage you to check it out. No matter whether you’ve contracted Covid-19 or not, lost or suffered through scary times with a loved one, lost your job, had your opportunity to contribute to society multiplied, been exhausted as a healthcare worker, organized the less fortunate for safer working conditions, or found yourself staring at four walls all day wondering who you are and what this scourge has done to your life…here is a place to document it.

Someone, someday, may discover something remarkable about our experience of the infamous 2020. We may display hues of resiliency we never dreamed possible. We may exhibit compassion or despair in equal measures, only to be buoyed by the tiniest gesture of kindness coming from a totally unexpected source.

Documenting the large and small experiences of living through these times is a gift we can all give to our progeny. If you check out this site, you will see there are a number of ways you can make a contribution. Verbally, by the written word, privately, or allow your thoughts and experiences to be shared.

Tomorrow I will share with you the blow I suffered with respect to my Pandemic Journal. It’s taken me all these months to share, but maybe now is the time.

(T-356)

Three Different Things – Day 390

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  Photo: L. Weikel

Three Different Things

I distinctly remember thinking, as I was finishing up last night’s post, that I had at least three different subjects I could write a post about. They popped into my head just as I was finishing up, and I thought to myself, “I should write them down.”

Well, contrary to what I urge all my Listening Retreat participants to do whenever they receive some guidance or have a dream, I neglected to do so. I looked around, didn’t see anything within arm’s length upon which I could write those ideas down, so I gave up.

I regret to admit that I also distinctly remember saying to myself, “Oh forget it. I’ll remember them.”

Famous Last Words

Oh, what a trap that is. In fact, I think that’s one of the single most frequent reasons we give ourselves for not writing dreams down, especially. How many times have you awakened from a dream that is crystal clear in your mind – indeed, so crisp and detailed that you think to yourself, “I’ll have no trouble remembering this!?”

A corollary to the ‘this is so fresh and real I’ll never forget it’ syndrome, at least with respect to dreams, is the thought, “This is unbelievably mundane. So mundane that I’m not even going to waste my time and risk waking myself up even more than I already am to write it down.”

I specifically warn against the perils of failing to write these types of dreams down because I’ve found those seemingly mundane dreams often harbor surprisingly enlightening double entendres. And it’s virtually impossible (for me at least) to have the clarity and perspective to discern that I’m in the midst of a ‘play of words’ when it’s 4:00 a.m. and I’m still have inside the dreamworld. So – it’s only through the direct experience of realizing the depth of these seemingly superficial dreams that I’ve realized the importance of capturing them on paper.*

Not One of the Three

All of which reminds me of a dream I had a few weeks ago that definitely seemed mundane and a little weird when I lay in bed realizing I’d been dreaming – and contemplated rolling over and resuming my slumber. It seemed terribly mundane (and a bit unsettling) and I could see no point to writing it down. Indeed, it’s almost as if there was a little gremlin between my ears (no comment) actively urging me to just roll over and go back to sleep.

But I didn’t.

And when I read that dream in my journal the next morning…I sorta kinda got goosebumps.

I want you to have that experience as well. We are such amazing creatures and there is so very much more to us and our experiences than we realize, including the way we communicate with ourselves, each other, and even, perhaps, other realities.

The funny thing is, this was not one of the three topics I should’ve written down last night! Hopefully I’ll remember them tomorrow…

Reaching out.
Photo: L. Weikel

*I do know some people who’ve taken to speaking their dreams into a recorder or their iPhone, which they keep by their bedside. If that works for you, go for it. I nevertheless feel that the physical act of writing the dream out has a particularly unique ability to trigger our awareness of our psyche’s use of homonyms, etc. to get a message across.

(T-721)

Of Course It’s Cloudy – Day 306

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Of Course It’s Cloudy!

It’s so frustrating how often it seems to be cloudy outside when a full moon, an eclipse, a meteor shower, or any other such celestial event is taking place.

Mind you, I’ve witnessed some very cool atmospheric and ‘cosmic’ events. So many, I suppose, that I really have no standing to complain. But hey – it’s Friday the 13thand the last time a full moon will take place on this date until I am 90 damn years old.

I would like to have seen it, documented it in my journal, perhaps even made an, albeit woefully inadequate, attempt to snap a shot of it for posterity. But no.

Now I have to do my best to cling to this mortal coil for another 30 years, just so I can point to this cranky-ass blog post and say, “See? I was aware of the last one, and I hung in there another thirty years just to finally SEE this one!”

Another Score for Journaling

One interesting little vignette, though: I checked and found that I did, in fact, make an entry in my journal back on Friday, October 13, 2000. And the very first sentence I wrote was: “FULL MOON (in Aries, no less).” (The ‘no less’ comment was because my sun sign is Aries. Therefore I obviously felt that full moon might be tweaking me a bit more powerfully.)

I didn’t make any reference to the fact that the full moon was also falling on a Friday the 13th. This was early internet days, definitely pre-Google and pre-FB, so the heightened awareness of occurrences like these (and perhaps even more relevantly, their relative either commonplace nature or rarity) were much less well known. I probably didn’t bat an eye at the confluence of these two events. Indeed, had I known that it would not occur again until this day, one month shy of 19 years later, I would have mentioned it in my journal – and pondered what my life might be like all those years in the future.

Twenty Years Ago

I was entering the final stages of publication of Owl Medicine. Good grief, that’s depressing. To think – I published my book that long ago and still haven’t followed up with the sequel(s).

In that entry, I also discuss creating my website, which I initially set up under www.sagebearpress.com. (If you click on that link, you’ll see I’ve kept that name and simply reroute visitors to my Owl Medicine site, which, back then, I was only toying with setting up as a website.

My Reward for the Day: A Reminder

As I’ve found happens more often than I can say, once I went back and started reading my entry for October 13, 2000, I was drawn into indulging my curiosity over what else was going on in our lives and occupying my mind at that time.

And that’s when I discovered quite a surprise.

A week after that Friday the 13th full moon co-incidence, I’d apparently found a bit more time to write in my journal and therefore covered a lot more ground in my entry of October 20th than I had on the 13th.

As background, a year or so earlier, I had scaled down my law practice to a substantial degree in order to focus upon the final stages of writing, editing, and publishing Owl Medicine. Given that OM was nearly ready to ‘hatch,’ I was contemplating my full-bore return to the workforce, and I was weighing whether I wanted to reinvigorate my private law practice or branch into some other (as yet unknown) area.

Without going into the somewhat maudlin self-assessment I was engaged in that day, I have to admit I was astonished to read that I considered “…the stuff I (…) do ‘best’ is listening.”

Of course, I lamented at that time that I probably could never get paid enough to contribute meaningfully to our family’s well-being by just ‘listening.’

Listening – It’s Been the Theme of My Life

What I guess I’m surprised by is how listening has been such a persistent and critically important aspect of my life for so many years. Actually, it’s the underlying theme of my life. And yet – I’m always surprised by how important it’s always been to me.

I wonder why I’m surprised?

All I know is that on this full moon, on this Friday the 13th, I’m deciding to take my love for and commitment to listening to the next level.

(T-805)

Why I Journal – Day 241

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Journal – Oct. ’05 – May ’06 – Photo: L. Weikel

Why I Journal                                  

Very recently I’ve had occasion to wonder aloud about specific experiences or recollections associated with particular dates. (Let me say right here that I apologize profusely for that sentence. It’s a stinker. And I’ve tried fifteen ways from Sunday to rewrite it but it refuses to improve, no matter what I do to it.)

Instead of resting on that outrageous conglomeration of words, let me give you three examples:

You may recall that I mentioned in my post about the Eclipse Season we’re right now in the thick of experiencing, that this particular configuration has not occurred since 2001-ish. And I mentioned that this is a time of major, dramatic change for many people.

It’s often instructive to go back in our memories and look for ourselves to see what, if anything, we were experiencing when a major aspect is heading toward us in the present. Well, that can sound great, but I don’t know about you, but quite honestly, I have a hard time remembering much of anything with specificity from last month, much less 18 years ago.

Cue the Fanfare For Keeping a Journal

Because I keep one, I was able to go back and recall my greatest concerns and challenges of that time. It’s a little wild to recall that I published my book; was by my father’s side when he passed away; and took a new job in a brand new field (development) while uncovering my ‘inner activist,’ whom I’m astonished had kept herself hidden even from me for basically the first 40 years of my life. Not to mention, this was all leading up to my trip to Tuva (Siberia) in ’03 which completely changed the course of my life.

I guarantee, I would not have realized and ‘put together’ all of those life events as having taken place in such a short span of time if I could not read it in black and white. (OK, in my case, it’s written in blue, black, and purple, predominantly, but you get my point.)

Second Situation

The second situation that occurred recently was a question someone asked me about a session they had with me 13 years ago. As anyone whose had a session with me in the past, oh, 11 or 12 years knows, I write a comprehensive ‘follow-up’ email to every client, usually the day after our session. These often take me at least two hours to write up precisely because they are so detailed. Interestingly, I often end up going into a ‘zone’ while I write my follow-ups that sometimes yields additional information or helps me remember even more detail than I might have said out loud the day before, in the session.

The Value of Follow-Ups

But when I first began offering sessions 15 years ago, I did not know enough to offer a written follow-up. I had no idea how valuable keeping track of all of the details I would glean in a session could be to a client. It was only through realizing for myself just how much information I was conveying did I conclude that, if it were me, I’d love a comprehensive record to look back upon of the salient aspects of what took place in my session.

Thus, when my client contacted me and asked what I could remember of a situation that took place back in 2006 (actually, we weren’t even sure at first when the session happened, so fuzzy were our memories) my initial thought was to check my emails. There was no follow up written to her. There were, though, a few emails that referenced the session, which actually enabled us to figure out the exactdate of our work together.

Given that this was still early in my ‘career’ as a shamanic practitioner, I realized I might have written about the experience in my journal, for each and every session was a really big deal to me. (Not that they aren’t now, too – believe me. It’s just that I am more disciplined now with the follow-ups.)

Chock full of life’s details – Photo: L. Weikel

Once Again, Cue the Fanfare For Keeping a Journal.

Yes. Pictured with this post is my journal from October 3, 2005 – May 28, 2006. As you can see, it’s chock full of all sorts of stuff, not least being an amazing amount of detail from the session my client was seeking information about. As a result? I was able to write a startlingly comprehensive follow-up report to my client 13 years after the fact. Needless to say, we were both delighted.

Finally, on a perhaps lesser monumental but nevertheless impressive scale, just today I was able to reference back four months and give someone specific details I’d recorded about a message from Spirit that had come from a most unexpected source. Even more astonishing was the fact that the person I was speaking with today had received a dream the very next night, which directly correlated with the information I’d been given by Spirit.

I Will Aways, Always Cue the Fanfare For Keeping a Journal

I cannot emphasize enough the value of keeping track of the details of our lives. It is because I keep such detailed journals that I am able to write my books. But even beyond that, it’s because I track the details of the amazing occurrences that happen in my life that I’m able to see the connections; I’m able to appreciate the magic Spirit brings into my life – and how it happens on an astonishingly frequent basis.

So many ‘synchronicities’ are happening all around us, all the time. But we need to pay attention and keep track if we’re going to ‘get the message’ – and do something with it.

(T-870)

Perspective – Day 168

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Icy Perspective – Photo: L. Weikel

Perspective

We just finished watching the most recent Game of Thrones episode: the battle scene with the Undead in the final season. (Just in case this ever gets read at a time when they have no clue which episode I’m talking about!)

First of all, I need to confess that I’m a latecomer to GoT. Karl and I were so turned off by the first episode that it took us seven years to come around to giving the series another chance. That’s because we tried again maybe three years in and got turned off again within an episode or two by all the violence and gratuitous sex.

I’m far from a prude. But yowza, it took some fortitude to stick with it long enough to get hooked on the characters.

But third time was a charm, and we ended up watching all seven seasons last year. We started in, committing to “sticking with it this time,” months ahead of the release of Season 7, so we could slide right into it.

It was immensely satisfying. And yes, we were hooked.

After watching tonight’s episode, as well as the ‘after-program’ in which the show’s creators describe some of their thought processes in writing and filming it, Karl and I commented on how we might actually enjoy watching the entire series over again.

Not a Fan of Reruns or Reading Books Twice

That’s not something I would expect of myself – I’m not one to watch reruns nowadays (unlike when I was growing up and ‘reruns’ were the only game in town), just as I am loathe to re-read a book. There’s too much fresh content, too many new books being written (and older ones I’ve never read) to reread one I’ve read already.

But there was a lot of detail in all those episodes, and it is easy to see how I may have missed some things that later would become surprisingly relevant. I could actually see how watching it a second time could actually reveal enough nuances to make the entire journey enjoyable again.

And that’s when it occurred to me why I treasure my journals and appreciate the discipline of keeping one as consistently as I’ve (mostly) been able to do throughout my life.

When I go back and read my entries, I not only ‘see’ things from the perspective of that part of myself who wrote it. And that perspective is actually quite easy to recapture, as I was routinely highly descriptive. I’ve always made a point of being raw and honest in my journal writing. Otherwise, what’s the point? I never could see the purpose behind sugar-coating anything, but especially something you are writing for yourself.

And truth be told, as I’ve engaged in research to begin writing the sequel to Owl Medicine by going back and re-reading my journal entries, I’ve been fascinated at times with the things I thought and believed at the time. To read those entries with the knowledge of how things actually played out adds a dimension that can change the dynamic of your entire perception of how life has worked out.

Perspective.

It colors everything. Yet it is so incredibly easy to lose sight of precisely how important it is to understanding our feelings as well as our beliefs about the nature of everything – at least certainly the nature of our reality.

Just How Accurate Are Our Perceptions?

Knowing what we know today, how accurate do our beliefs or judgments as recorded years ago measure up? Would we interpret certain feelings or experiences the same way now, knowing how we once did? And perhaps more importantly, how we acted in reliance upon those interpretations?

I love the task of honing my awareness and ability to read persons, places, and circumstances.

And sometimes I think there is both great value and opportunity provided by watching reruns or allowing reruns to play in our mind by rereading old journals. Opportunity to learn about ourselves and others, which to me is what life is all about.

Who’d a thought I’d come to that realization from finally succumbing to the allure of GoT?

(T-943)

Dispelling Illusions – Day Sixty Seven

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The Blank Page – Photo by L. Weikel

Dispelling Illusions

Yeah, I know I waxed rhapsodic over my new journal last night. I assure you, it was heartfelt. Truly.

I’m also a real pain in the behind with my clients over keeping a journal. I must bring it up about 15,000 times during a session, and if not quite that many times in the session itself, then most definitely in my follow up correspondences.

I’ve witnessed first hand the myriad times I’ve benefited from having written down my internal observations and feelings. Truly, those times are virtually countless. From documenting details that have served me in great stead to recall, to purging myself of emotions and accusations that could easily have led to vast heartache and further misunderstanding had they been expressed outwardly, to another person, my journal is in fact my very best friend.

Making Connections Helps Us Make Sense of It All

I’ve also seen the proverbial light bulb go on above people’s heads (usually my clients or students – most being both, turns out) when they experience that zing of excitement when a message or experience from the past (which they wrote down) somehow links with an experience or encounter now – and the dots connect in ways that reveal something much greater than they ever would have imagined (or even remembered, had they not written it down in the first place).

It’s in the details. It’s part of honoring our process. And our process includes feeling our fears,  figuring out what we want, describing and immersing ourselves in our really sad and depressed days, expressing our dreams, and reveling in our triumphs – both inner and outer.

I can’t declare more passionately how essential I feel it is to our own self-awareness and growth that we capture on paper (ideally) (but electronically will suffice) (beggars can’t be choosers) (I’ll take a win where I can get it) (I’ll stop speaking in parenthetic phrases now) our innermost understandings of ourselves.

That’s why I keep coming back to the importance of journaling again and again.

Revelations Often Come Within a Single Entry

One of the fascinating things about the transformative nature of journaling is how, more often than not, at least in my experience, the transformation actually takes place within the journal entry itself. Meaning it’s not over a series of journal entries that major shifts take place. That happens for sure, sometimes.

But time and time again, I have sat down with my journal and felt something – some emotion, perhaps, or held an exceedingly strong belief about a particular subject – and by the time I have allowed myself to sit and write and contemplate and perhaps write down all my options, or given voice to all the possible reasons why something may have unfolded the way it did, I notice a distinctly different feeling within myself.

Usually I’ve achieved a sense of peace. Almost always, even if I still have no idea how I want to move forward or what I may be walking into next, I know who I am and how I feel in that moment.

My Journal is My Best Friend

Journaling helps me know who I am. It helps me understand why I think, feel, and behave the way I do in any given moment. And because of that, I think journaling helps me love myself.

Quite honestly, I can’t think of a greater gift I can give to anyone else. That’s why I recommend it like a broken record to anyone and everyone I live with, work with, or care about.

So with all of what I’ve just written, knowing that I have some 63 journals on my library wall and a fresh brand-spanking-new journal just waiting for me to initiate it, you’d think I would have christened that baby today, wouldn’t you?

Well, let me dispel that illusion. In spite of my best intentions…there’s always tomorrow.

(T-1044)

Photo by L. Weikel

Simple Pleasures – Day Sixty Six

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Photo by L Weikel

Simple Pleasures    

I feel as though I’ve written some intense posts lately. Or maybe they were just a little on the long side; I don’t know. Today I’m going with simple pleasures.

It’s a new day. It’s a new month. (Well, in the overall context of 2019. I do realize it’s the 16th of the month already.) But best of all?

It’s a new journal!

Out With the Old, In With the New

Yes! Today I filled in the very last page of my most recent journal. What a great feeling. And even better is the fact that my journal-keeper’s glow is sure to last two full days, since, as was the case today, I felt a wonderful sense of accomplishment witnessing the well-paced completion of those final lines of the last blank page in my bright green covered, college-ruled, wire-bound notebook.

That’s no small feat. It takes a bit of skill, some reasonable foresight, and maybe a scootch of discretion in deciding just how much to write today and how much to save for tomorrow in order to get the entry for the last day to end at a satisfactory place on that final page.

Aaah, but it is so satisfying. And then, once I’ve put a period at the end of that last sentence, I take a quick inventory of the ‘big events’ that I’ve painstakingly noted on the back inside cover. I’ve taken to creating a pseudo-index (even though my pages aren’t numbered) on the back cover so, in the future, when I want to try to quickly locate in which journal an event is documented, I can find it at least a little more quickly than I have in the past.

That’s been a lesson learned the hard way by someone who has, by a cursory count, 63 of those suckers lined up on her bookcase shelves.

And Tomorrow Brings It to 64

Tomorrow I get to revel in the sensual pleasure and pristine innocence of christening a completely fresh and unsullied wire-bound notebook. I love holding my new baby in my hands, appreciating the color of the cover I’ve chosen, feeling its texture with my palm and fingers as I appreciate the lack of bumps and dings that inevitably surface as a result of being taken everywhere.

But this journal is different. This one was a gift (although I did make my requirements for a perfect journal known ahead of time, such as a pocket divider for keepsakes, such as event tickets, photos, or sentimental cards I might receive). This one has two!  It’s from Boston University, my youngest son’s* most recent alma mater. And I have to admit, the only thing that could possibly make this better would be if the B.U. mascot were emblazoned on its cover. Because?

Everything is better with a Boston Terrier.** Trust me on that.

A New Adventure, Filled With Possibilities

Thus tomorrow begins a new adventure, at least in my mind. I wonder what events and dreams, adventures and aspirations, rages and sorrows will fill these pages. How will I have grown from who I am this evening, at the outset of this journal, to who I am when I write those concluding thoughts many months from now.

Will I still be writing 1111 Devotion posts? (Sure hope so.)

Will I have some new project in the works or be collaborating on something I have no inkling of in this moment? (It’ll be neat to see!)

I guess we’ll find out. And maybe, hopefully, we’ll all meet in this Ruffled Feathers space together to assess the changes that will inevitably have taken place in my life, in your life, in our country, in the world. Who knows what we’ll have witnessed by then.

Perhaps you’ll have started (or continued) keeping your own journal. And you’ll be on your way to celebrating the amazing two day extravaganza of simple pleasures that, in truth, are the delight of completing one journal and beginning a new one.

(T-1045)**See? Told you.

Spartacus Dreaming – Photo by L.Weikel

*Thank you, Sage.