The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought,
this in turn makes us think more deeply about life,
which helps us regain our equilibrium.
~ Norbet Platt
Today I was leafing through random notebooks looking for yet another misplaced item, and I came across drafts of letters I had written about ten years ago. It was like bumping into a younger version of myself ~ both creepy and bittersweet. A part of me mourned the passing of the younger Mikaela: her hopeful dreams, romantic notions and at times, a naive yet sincere faith, along with the writing style and vocabulary that goes with such an interior.
The memory is such a mysterious muscle: usually it does not let us get on with life completely unfettered from past mistakes [our own] or traumas and hurts [other’s mistakes]. Yet it can also be quite faulty and forgiving ~ did I really make fun of my fifth grade classmate? Even if the memory forgets, the pen does not. And the written word, set down while the event is happening or is fresh in our minds. How else can one determine if one is progressing, regressing or simply surviving? Once it is there in black and white and in our own hand, it is more difficult to deny or simply forget.
As I read through the drafts [yes, drafts. Fine ~ I admit it ~ I am a tad finicky when it comes to hand writing letters ~ I like them to be blotch-free, coherent and readable ~ do you mind?], I envied my younger self at least one thing: the slow pace that afforded me time to pen such lofty thoughts and encouraging scribbles. A slow pace made possible by a practically empty social calendar [as most of my friends were either finishing up college or back home and out of state] and the enclosed garden-like atmosphere that permeated my home town.
Both of those ingredients have been lost to me ~ at least for now. But I realized that if I really wanted to reclaim some of that time and begin writing with a similar, if not identical, amount of creativity and production, than I would need to create those moments for myself ~ even if it means blocking out the time on my packed social calendar and setting an alarm!
The future me depends on it.
Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela
P.S. Do you make time for creative moments? How?
this in turn makes us think more deeply about life,
which helps us regain our equilibrium.
~ Norbet Platt
Today I was leafing through random notebooks looking for yet another misplaced item, and I came across drafts of letters I had written about ten years ago. It was like bumping into a younger version of myself ~ both creepy and bittersweet. A part of me mourned the passing of the younger Mikaela: her hopeful dreams, romantic notions and at times, a naive yet sincere faith, along with the writing style and vocabulary that goes with such an interior.
The memory is such a mysterious muscle: usually it does not let us get on with life completely unfettered from past mistakes [our own] or traumas and hurts [other’s mistakes]. Yet it can also be quite faulty and forgiving ~ did I really make fun of my fifth grade classmate? Even if the memory forgets, the pen does not. And the written word, set down while the event is happening or is fresh in our minds. How else can one determine if one is progressing, regressing or simply surviving? Once it is there in black and white and in our own hand, it is more difficult to deny or simply forget.
As I read through the drafts [yes, drafts. Fine ~ I admit it ~ I am a tad finicky when it comes to hand writing letters ~ I like them to be blotch-free, coherent and readable ~ do you mind?], I envied my younger self at least one thing: the slow pace that afforded me time to pen such lofty thoughts and encouraging scribbles. A slow pace made possible by a practically empty social calendar [as most of my friends were either finishing up college or back home and out of state] and the enclosed garden-like atmosphere that permeated my home town.
Both of those ingredients have been lost to me ~ at least for now. But I realized that if I really wanted to reclaim some of that time and begin writing with a similar, if not identical, amount of creativity and production, than I would need to create those moments for myself ~ even if it means blocking out the time on my packed social calendar and setting an alarm!
The future me depends on it.
Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela
P.S. Do you make time for creative moments? How?
