the (hand)written word

One of the things that I like about setting goals for myself is that when I "fail" to meet them, I can simply adapt and reframe them so that I feel like I have still met said goals.  For instance, becoming a regular blogger.  What I meant was, become a regular writer.  Not a for-school writer.  Not a once-a-month-when-I-feel-like-it writer.  But writing as a discipline and a process that I know to be good for me - a hobby, really.  One that provides me with much needed perspective and an avenue to clear my busy mind, quiet my heart, and make sense of life as I know it.

So while I may not have posted in a week, I have been writing.  Journaling, really.  I have fallen back in love with the comforting way that full pages of a journal look covered in my own handwriting.  Each letter and word flowing honestly and without editing or self-monitoring.  The words on the page look like me.  They take up previously blank space on the unlined pages of my beautiful chartreuse moleskine and come to life, helping me to come to realizations about myself, my world, my faith, my chosen career, those I care about and what I want in life.  It's like as I write the words down life is breathed into them.  The words become my prayer.  They are tangible and manageable; and the thoughts they represent are less scary or muddled or frustrating once they've been put resolutely in their place.  They belong on the page where I can look at them - own them or toss them.  I can decide how they will effect me, what I will do with them, and how ultimately I can change for the better because of their truth.

I think that anyone who is a good do-er of life ought to have a place for unedited free writing.   The setting aside of time for the mental unpacking of stress, relationships, complexities and details of life, worries, dreams and feelings is cathartic.  It enables me to pause, dig a little deeper, reflect, and regain personal equilibrium.  I can talk and think and analyze until I am blue in the face, and those are good things.  But I am coming to realize that when I write, especially in a journal that only I will see, what I actually feel and believe is reflected back to me on those pages.  I see my heart expressed in my own words by my own hand, and am able to proceed from there feeling as if I know myself and where I'd like to be headed a little bit better. 

So that's all really.  Just wanting to share that I haven't abandoned ship on this endeavor, and why I feel that this process has only gotten richer.  Some things that deserve to be written about and reflected upon ought not be shared at the moment, and while blogging and tweeting, texting, emailing and publishing are ways of quickly disseminating written information, the personal and intimate nature of the handwritten word is something that I am especially treasuring this week.