'When the days were written down, they were noticed and remembered. Instead of fading with the passage of time, they were preserved. They had meaning.'
so, i write. i write to release that confusion captured inside, that beauty seen around me and respond in gratitude to the author and perfecter of all things. for what am i created to do, i am unsure. but to record and decode that around me, seems to make sense of who i am here. a little anyway.
i get very excited about buying a new journal, finding an old one and taking up in the middle of a lost-but-found-again one. i sometimes flick through the ruffled edges of days past, remembering friends who've been in my life and things that have been important to me. i think it is a real gift, being able to enjoy the act of writing down. even notes, lists - simple things. one thing i envy is the act of writing a melodious line, strung together in a tune. hmm, it is such a sweet thing. but i will remain content in the writing that i do. what about you?