hello, again.

Hi friends, I’ve had a great week away from the computer.   I really enjoyed when I did this a few weeks ago, for just one day, but this time was even better.

Sometimes, I can lose my own thoughts and purpose in the act of reading too much, about other people’s lives. It feels like there are so many ideas, messages and nonsense filling my head sometimes, that my own thoughts get lost in the confusion.

I’m learning more and more that I need peace and simplicity.  I don’t thrive on chaos, although a bit of chaos is very necessary for this artist.  I don’t do “over-scheduled,” “over-organized,” or “busy-for the sake of being busy.”  That’s not me.  I love mornings filled with reading and coffee, afternoons with baking and playing, and yes, somewhere in the 24 hours of a day, I try to maintain a level of function in my home, but the toys can be messy and a few dishes can sit on the counter for a while, it’s fine with me.  I’ll take that if it means a peaceful, happy, hopeful home.

Instead of writing for the whole world (or more likely, my handful of readers), I returned to my poor, neglected journal.  I’m an  avid-journal lover.  But somehow in the act of frequent blogging, my journal sat on my desk, on the bottom of a pile of books that I haven’t read yet,  showing signs of obvious neglect.

I don’t know why I stopped writing in my journal, I was too focused on turning my thoughts into posts… and so many great sentiments got lost in time, because not everything is blog-material. 

I’m sorry dear journal, so sorry.

I had forgotten how much I loved the pen to paper magic, the unveiling of my thoughts, the hopeful bliss that comes from writing something too important or fragile to be shared with the ever-opinionated world. 

I think journaling is an optimistic act; you can actually believe anything you write in those pages-- that are yours alone.  No one will laugh at your ideas, or not get you, or wonder how you’ll make it in the world, and when you write a dream, a real-honest-to-goodness dream… no one is waiting to crush it with mindless pessimism.

Remember the scene from Anne of Avonlea, while Anne and Katherine with a K are visiting Green Gables during their summer holiday?  The fresh country air was rosy on their cheeks and their hearts were light while the basket of just-picked apples were full.  Katherine said to Anne, “You know, I can almost believe anything in the Green Gables of yours.”  That’s what I mean.

In a  journal, you are free to dream as brilliantly as you wish, you are free to be afraid or angry, or to find joy in capturing a perfect moment.

Truthfully, I think we DO believe the things we write in our journals.  We do believe in the possibility of a dream and that faith will carry us through, even the darkest times.  In the peaceful places of our hearts, we do believe in goodness, hope, love and possibilities.

But when those words are launched into the world, to ride the waves of the entire world’s acceptance or judgment, it’s not so easy to remember just how strongly we believe.

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This week, I had so much more to say, once I started writing in my journal again.  My thoughts were less blurred and my convictions were stronger.   As I return from my short break, I am aware that the act of journaling makes me a better writer and it makes me a better version of myself.  I’m excited about the new places this journey will take me and I hope you embark on your own journey to become the best version of you, surrounding yourself with things that you love, stretching past your comforts, and believing in the possibilities of your most treasured dreams.