Welcome To March

The first day of March. It ended with this beautiful view from my second floor deck. Sometimes I just stand out there gasping at the natural miracle that is our sky. It never ceases to amaze me.

This morning I found myself in a little artsy cafe downtown. It's fascinating the way I feel so at home in those places, the sudden sense of overwhelming peace that grows within me as I ease through the door. Life seems to slow within their walls; the quiet readers and writers sipping on flavored coffee while the aromas dance about their heads, twirling and mixing with the ideas they’ve begun to let loose. It’s always so exhilarating and calming and utterly beautiful. It was a delightful way to begin March.

The minute I sat down, I realized something was missing. Something had been missing for quite a while now. My journal. In all of the time spent blogging and filling books with poems and quotes and just the daily routines of life in general, I neglected my poor journal. I used to sit down and write every day, sometimes multiple times a day, as often as I could, but these past few months have been more sporadic. I had a few pages left in the latest journal and just let them sit blank upon my shelf. I let the routine drop. I forgot how much I needed it.

Today being the first day of a new month, I decided in the coffee shop to go home and begin writing again, to start fresh and never stop, to write on and on forever. I decided it was the perfect time for a new beginning. Imagine my surprise to walk through the front door and find this waiting for me:



A lovely and wonderful and absolutely perfect journal from Michelle. I was beyond ecstatic. I love the way she seemed to know me better than I knew myself, the way she unknowingly anticipated the exact moment I’d need this. Thank you Michelle. Thank you. Thank you. I love this book so dearly and have already begun to fill its pages with thoughts and ideas and hopes for the future.

After only a few sentences, I fell in love with journals again. I fell in love with the feel of the pen moving across an empty page. I fell in love with the smooth manner in which my thoughts glided beneath my fingertips. I fell back in love with writing.

The purest form of writing. The say what you feel, honesty filled, no going back kind of writing. I hadn’t even fully realized how much I’d been missing it. I used to sit outside beneath the trees writing this way for hours. Everything else in the world seemed to melt away around me, and yet, I’d become so intensely aware of the little details. The way the wind sounded through the trees, the birds interactions with one another, the coolness of the creek cascading over my naked feet. I felt so alive.

This evening I took my journal up onto the deck. I sat beneath the sunset of pinks and purples and oranges. I let the curve of each letter written guide me to the next. I allowed myself to feel alive again. Welcome to March, the world seemed to say, it’s going to be a glorious month.