I feel that I’ve been doing a good job so far when it comes to showing up to the page. Last week was a great week of colorful dreams. One in particular that I jotted down and drew as best I could. That got me inspired to bring my art box out of the garage, but it’s still in the living room, waiting to have the contents taken out. I want to re-draw a portion of my dream–luckily it’s not complicated–and add color and bring it to life. Even while I was dreaming, I told myself not to forget the image.

Without putting pressure or deadlines on myself, I told myself that I would like to show up to my blog journal during the week, and possibly the weekend if time allows. For me, this is also part of showing up. But most important, is if I show up at all, whether on my personal journal or my blog journal.

I feel that I started turning my back on writing, allowing it to slip away because I was switching the emphasis to work, to my class–but then I realized I was missing one of my passions–I wasn’t being true to myself, and I was feeling that void. Maybe these were excuses, self-sabotage…that’s why I always go back to my writing books, the ones that remind me to keep going. Even though I can tell myself the same thing, it’s always nice to have someone who has lived through the stop-and-go for much longer and offer their personal stories and wisdom.

Reading certain writing books is like meditation for me.

One of the other things I like about writing is that in some ways, just as I face a blank page every day, it can really feel like that–like a new beginning every single day, every single moment. A blank page can be humbling. Even if we’ve been writing in our journals for years and years, tinkering with poems, haikus, short stories, what have you; for me there is always the opportunity for learning something new and growing, whether it’s evident on the page or only within.

And there will always
be something new to learn
about writing,
about life,
about myself.

A long time ago, when I received low marks on an English paper in my early days of community college some 20 years ago, I told myself then that despite the bad marks and condescending tone of the teacher, I would make it my goal to master writing. And I’ve been at it ever since.

Writing is a life-long process; that is the beauty.

I love that as long as I keep my pen moving,
in writing and in doodling,
I will write and write and write–
until death do we part.

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