“Journaling can be an excellent way to increase self-awareness, discover and change habits.”
Journaling
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Journaling time at Starry Night from 2013 -
A Restless Soul
First mocha at the Bean Cycle in about 5 months A few years ago I found myself with my camera bag over my shoulder, my hand on my doorknob, heading out the door, realizing I had no clue where I was headed. My mind was blank and a recurring experience. I can’t even count how many times I’ve laughed at myself. I’ve wondered if I was crazy. Of course there are times I had a clear indication of where I was heading but not always. Should I be making a therapy appointment?
Over the years I’ve come to the awareness that I am not a homebody but a restless soul of some sort. Home for me is not just a manmade structure with a mortgage payment of 30 years, which is how much of our culture defines home. For me, a home is where we lay our head to sleep, find shelter from harsh weather, a place of safety, and a sanctuary, a place of quiet and solitude. So home can be anywhere and everywhere. Some will disagree.
I feel at home when I’m at one of the local natural areas, camping trip, a road trip, a nearby park, in a bookstore or library, at a coffee shop, in a sacred place, or a bicycle ride, my Adirondack chair on my porch, anywhere and everywhere. I am a restless soul. I suppose this could indicate some psychological problems but we’ll dismiss that for now because I do not want to spend money on therapy sessions.
A closing thought as I want to keep this short. I have daydreamed of traveling most of my life. Play time was always outside, bicycling, sports, fishing, camping. As a young teenager I thought I wanted to be a truck driver. I’ve constantly dreamed of living an RV lifestyle for the past 15 years. Which I write about next. I’m a restless soul.
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Put it in your calendar
Journal time and a mocha at Mugs in Old Town this morning “When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”―
And, for those who need to know it’s National Ice Cream Day, which happens the third Sunday of every July. Put it in calendar!
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Journal writing…
Journal time “Journaling is a great way to pay attention to “how it all came to be.” In looking back, you gain insight into (and appreciation for) your challenges, lessons, and perseverance.”
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A few words from this morning
My journaling from this morning’s walk at Fisher Natural Area -
Graitude
Cold, foggy, and frosty October morning sunrise from 2012 After quiet time, prayer and meditation,
I made a french press of coffee, Heaven’s Blend
by name, then moved outside to sit in the sun.
In the warmth I read from Rilke’s Book of Hours,
and journaled thoughts. I focused on listening to
the sounds of nature, birds, wind, as their words
seem to soothe, heal and nurture me with a balm
rather than the pain brought on by the world’s news.
I think Gratitude is the word for this day. -
They’re still open
Morning sunlight on tables outside of Cups Coffee shop Before going to bed last night I decided I would go to Cups Coffee this morning and buy a latte. I ache inside for the small businesses struggling to stay in business so it was my way of supporting them. When I bought some food supplies yesterday I noticed they were open. They now have the shop completely quarantined, primarily taking call in orders only. I was able to step inside the front door, order my drink then step outside and wait for them bring it outside. That’s when this image was seen. Drink for the day was a matcha latte with lavender syrup. Much prefer honey rather than the lavender. I heard a new for many of us yesterday, we’re now called quarantiners. And, yes, Websters has that name in their dictionary. 🙂
I started working on a photography book well over a year ago where I intended to include excerpts from my journals along with some of my favorite images, primarily to leave for my children and grandchildren. About three months ago I read what I’d written, thought it was sh*t, told myself I’m not a writer and put it down. Well, this quarantine time beckoned me to look at what I could do with the writing. I’m not sure what but something happened. A clear mind maybe, but it began morphing into a style of writing I’m not used to. I’ve read several names and styles of writing called prose, poetry, haiku, poetic prose, poetic journals, and a bunch more. Anyway, I’m having fun with it. My last post had my feeble, and first, attempt to write in some form of poetic prose on this site.
