I am grateful this evening for the treasure trove that is this gratitude blog. Recently, when writer’s block has hit, I’ve taken to returning to earlier blogs to either repost them in their entirety or take pieces from them and expand upon the theme, adding fresh content to the original post. Some evenings I find just the right blog to repost on the first spin of the random number generator, and other nights, like this one, I spin it three or four times searching for the right post to draw from. It is in the re-reading of posts I’ve written over a year ago that I realize how much I’ve been through, overcome, gotten through in the past couple of years. While it perhaps can’t be described as miraculous, it nonetheless is notable that I came through a really trying period of my life and retained my sanity and basic belief in the goodness of people; and even though it was largely people who failed and mistreated me during that time, there was also people who held me, healed me, and stood by me until I could stand on my own.
It is gratifying to read back through some of my challenges and triumphs, and because I was able to make it through whatever difficulties presented themselves. When I am challenged in some way in my current life, I need only look back and remember that because I was able to successfully navigate my way through some really hard days and come through on the other side relatively in one piece. That’s another upside to doing the bookend writing that I do every day–morning journal and this blog in the evening. Between the two I have a pretty faithful narrative of what my life has looked like over the past two years. If someone ever wants to write a biography of me or I someday decide to write my own memoir, I have hundreds of pages of material.
I am grateful for the ability to write. It’s such an important means not only of self expression, but self discovery. When I first started writing my morning journal nearly two years ago I wrote in the front of that first journal “Writing my way to clarity.” I have written my way through nine journals of various shapes and sizes, having started book 10 about a month ago. I’ve written my morning journal the old fashioned way–long hand in ink using a variety of lined journals and notebooks. I write every morning–whether I feel like it or not–for 30 minutes to an hour always while I’m still in my jammies. My journal, unlike this blog, is not themed–I write about whatever is on my mind at the time–and it is uncensored. Periodically I write out some bitter and angry sentiments. I rarely spend an entire journal time ranting about something; even though no one reads it but me, I am guided by some inner compass that keeps me pointed–for the most part–in a positive direction. I challenge myself inasmuch as it’s possible, to write from a positive aspect even if the subject I’m writing is negative. Part of the process of writing my way to clarity is about trying to both be honest with myself about what is while at the same time trying to write about what I want to see unfold in my life. It’s a tricky balance, but it works for me and I find that the more I write in the mornings and evenings the more I really am writing my way to clarity.
Not everyone will find writing at their means of self expression and discovery. My hope is that you find a medium that works for you, that helps you think through the issues of your day, that provides a means for you to discover answers to your important questions, that offers the opportunity for creativity and beauty to emerge. I have recently decided that I’m going to start writing and mailing letters to people like we did in the olden days before emails, text messages and Twitter. Last week for my birthday my daughter hand wrote and mailed me a letter. “I know how much you appreciate physical mail,” she wrote in the first paragraph of her two-page missive, “so I figured taking some time to write to you wouldn’t be too much trouble.” I remembered how much I used to enjoy corresponding with my uncle for many years. We each wrote in long hand, though once he typed a letter or two on a typewriter but made so many mistakes and typos that he eventually went back to hand writing them. Uncle Al had a neat hand, beautiful and flowing, mine, not so much. I’m not sure folks will be able to decipher my handwriting, but I believe I’ll do my best to write legibly (the D+ I received in penmanship in 4th grade notwithstanding.)
I’m grateful to have found a medium that I love: I’ve been writing–poems, short stories, songs, novels, letters, and all manner of documents since I could first hold a pencil. Find whatever works for you and go for it!
