I decided to come back to writing here. But, I’m writing with no agenda, no expectation, and — most importantly — no pressure or promise.
I’ll start by writing in a journal and then transcribing what I wrote here,
mistakes and all. If I add something as I type (which I’m sure I will), I’ll let you know.
I’m not entirely sure why I feel drawn to share it. Maybe it’s because I love reading blogs and appreciate it when people share what they’re learning and going through. Maybe it’s because the more I write, the more I discover about myself, the world around me, and the place I want in it. Maybe it’s because I notice that when I don’t write, my vocabulary declines, and my short-term memory diminishes.
But, I guess it doesn’t really matter why does it? It is more about the doing than the questioning right now. The questioning just gets in the way.
So without further ado…
74° & sunny
≈ S 10mph
Putting pen to paper is like digging my toes into the dirt. It strips away the noise, grounds me to now, and connects me to the earth and to myself. It feels like coming home.
It would be easier to wear shoes just like it would be easier to
type write on a computer (or not write at all) but with those choices, I lose the connectedness. At least if those are my initial choices. Maybe I’ll type this up later.
And I think that is the thing I’ve been craving: connectedness.
… to myself
… to the earth
… to my food and where it comes from
… to the people I love
… to the beauty that can be found in a “normal” day if I take the time to seek it out
When I write, I’m forced to draw connections (there’s that word again) from one thought to another. It provides a space to come as I am, explore who I want to be, and hold myself accountable
to for actually manifesting those hopes and dreams into reality.
I know the power of putting words to the things that are in my heart. Now I just have to do it.
I’m ready to slow down. I’m ready to plant my toes in the dirt, turn my face to the sun, and open my arms and heart to the life going on around me.
I’m ready to spend less time focusing on amassing
more and things and more time appreciating (and using) what I have.
I’m ready for space — in my home, heart, and head — to fill with experiences, with the people I love, with time to continue getting to know myself, and (literally) fill with foods I’ve grown, picked, and cooked (or canned) myself.
I am ready for so much less. And in turn, so much more.