My online journal where I share my interests in photography, nature, journaling, fountain pens, bicycling, coffee life, spirituality and asking deep questions.
half blank pages
ms
find new words in brown ink
coffeehouse writing
Had a friend give me a new bottle of ink yesterday appropriately named, Coffee Break. 
It is a soft subtle brown that shades well, one of my favorite traits in inks, and works well with my cream colored journal pages. Using it in my white Pelikan M205 fountain pen. Hope you have a wonderful Sunday!
I mentioned a while back that I was working on a project. Well over a year and a half ago I began creating a Blurb book within Lightroom. My focus was on horizons because I have come to see the attraction and draw they have with me. My initial intent was to make a book for my children with a select few of my images and with my own words. After almost a year of labor and feeling like I was done, I read what I’d written and heard a familiar voice inside telling it was sh*t and I was a fool for trying such a project. So I set it aside and stopped working on it. Do you ever hear that voice and listen to the lie?
When the pandemic hit and lockdown arrived I found myself looking at what I’d written and my perspective was in a very different place. After three months I began to rewrite and my writing began to transform into what I’ve come to know as a poetic journal style of writing. A new energy began and words I’d not written before appeared. I made several revisions, deleted some writings and images while adding new writings and images. My wonderful neighbor, Kristin who teaches creative writing and poetry at CSU, did three proofreadings for me.
I am not promoting this for you to buy because print on demand is expensive. I’m doing it to toot my horn. This is something I’d never imagined I would or could do and an uncomfortable risk. Please click on the image for a preview of the book, for free. Let me know what you think. Thanks!
I mentioned a while back that I was working on a project. Well over a year and a half ago I began creating a Blurb book within Lightroom. My focus was on horizons because I have come to see the attraction and draw they have with me. My initial intent was to make a book for my children with a select few of my images and with my own words. After almost a year of labor and feeling like I was done, I read what I’d written and heard a familiar voice inside telling it was sh*t and I was a fool for trying such a project. So I set it aside and stopped working on it. Do you ever hear that voice and listen to the lie?
When the pandemic hit and lockdown arrived I found myself looking at what I’d written and my perspective was in a very different place. After three months I began to rewrite and my writing began to transform into what I’ve come to know as a poetic journal style of writing. A new energy began and words I’d not written before appeared. I made several revisions, deleted some writings and images while adding new writings and images. My wonderful neighbor, Kristin who teaches creative writing and poetry at CSU, did three proofreadings for me.
I am not promoting this for you to buy because print on demand is expensive. I’m doing it to toot my horn. This is something I’d never imagined I would or could do and an uncomfortable risk. Please click on the image for a preview of the book, for free. Let me know what you think. Thanks!
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.
“Like my father, I believe that nonviolence is the antidote to what he called ‘the triple evils of racism, poverty and militarism.’ These three evils were consuming our hopes for community in 1964, and, fifty years later, we remain divided because of their festering effects.” Bernice King
A troubling time for me. Awoke around 3:00 am with distressing thoughts and images running through my head. I have never felt such anxiety in our society, and the world, as I do now. We have those who seem focused on using violence as a solution to quell the voice of people. Haven’t we proven violence is not the solution. Let’s focus on the welfare of people rather than warfare on people.
“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.”
This habit of journaling has become an integral part of my life, a daily practice. I carry both a fountain pen (3) and a journal every day. At the end of the day there may only be a paragraph and some days a couple pages. There are days I just stare at empty pages because the words I’m seeking are hiding somewhere in those blank spaces or because of my busy mind I’m unable hear them. At other times a gem appears, a thought or insight. At some point in time I began journaling by first asking for words, desiring the gifts they are. There also was an awareness that these journals are now more of a letter, a prayer and a conversation with the inner essence of who I am. They are no longer called my journals but our journals. I also journal slowly and write in cursive to give the journals an artistic look, make them readable and at the same time it slows down my mind which creates another form of meditation for me. Anyway, these are some rambling thoughts on journaling.
