Wednesday, July 15, 2015

The Gifts of Pen and Paper

I keep many journals.  They're scattered in all kinds of places.  When the mood strikes me, I'll grab the closest one and pour it all out onto the page.  The ink is red, black, blue, pink, purple, green.  I use pencils with blunted tips and pens that bleed through the paper onto the other side.  Tonight, I reached for my for-real diary.  The one that has a lock on it.  The one I've been writing in since Thursday, January 4th 1990.
The front of the diary reads "Sometimes I need to be alone, thinking, dreaming on my own.  Trying to see what makes me "me"... following my own special path"


I started writing in it every day when I first got it.  Then it had random entries in it while in high school and college.  It was filling up quickly and I really wanted it to be the major collector of thoughts and feelings.  Those other journals are important, but this one is The One.  So I began writing in it only when big and important things were happening in my life so that I would have enough pages for many many more years.

Tomorrow marks 5 weeks left of my Masters classes so I thought that it would be important to document the approach.  When I was able to pry open the lock (it's been busted for years) a few loose pieces of paper fell out.  I must have tucked them in there a while ago and had forgotten.  I opened one that is dated 6/18/12- a little more than 3 years ago.  What I wrote then and what I feel now are shockingly different.  Here's a bit of what that note said:
"Will I ever be happy again?  I hate my job and I want to cry.  I will never be happy again.  I hate the life I'm stuck with.  My daily existence is severely lacking."

This.  This right here is the meaty good stuff.  This is why I journal.  To see how life changes and to reflect on where I have been and how I've made out.  Holy shit, you guys.  Three years.  It only took three years to have a life I totally LOVE.  I wouldn't trade it for anything.  I don't even know if I would trade it to have TJ back on Earth with me.  I love him so much and if he were here I might still be miserable and lost.  The only thing going well in my life before he died was him.  Everything else was confusion, self loathing, bad decisions, stress and boredom.  And after he died there was all of that and more.  Pain that ran bone deep.  Fear and nothingness.  Anger and jealousy.  And in three little short years (that honestly feels like a fucking lifetime) everything has changed so much.

For the record:
I am ridiculously happy with my life right now.  I have passion, self-love, confidence, peace, joy, openness, beauty and deep enveloping spirituality.

I am in love with my job as a healer.  I have seen acupuncture and my words change lives.  And those lives affect other lives.  It's the most beautiful butterfly effect.  I am doing World Work.

I mostly cry tears of joy these days.  Even the ones tinged with sadness are triggered by reflections of past love and happiness.

My daily existence is completely exhilarating!  Every single morning I wake up, choose my mood for the day (like peace, calm, love, happiness, gratitude, openness, patience, awakening...)  When I have my mood in place, I put my feet on the floor, raise my hands to the heavens outstretched, throw my head back and say "YES!  Today my mood is Love and I will be in Love all day long, no matter what."  I bring my hands together in prayer and bow to the day ahead.  Every night I thank God and the Angels for another day on this earth.  I count my blessings and pray for my family and friends.  I talk to TJ.  I ask him for help and thank him for being with me always.

I love this life I have.  I cherish it.  I worship my own body; it is my palace.  It's the only body I've got.  I do my best every day.  I am living.  I am loving.  I am deeply and profoundly proud of myself and of all that I have accomplished.  It has been the hardest, most satisfying journey of my life so far.

So I say to you

Write your life down.  Reflect and Rejoice, my friends.