I sure hope so. Winter in Vermont means below zero temperatures. In Montpelier it is -16 degrees. In the harsh weather of my current circumstances it is considerably chillier.
Can’t do much about the Sun, but towards climate improvement of the latter I keep trying to think of new things I can do; new efforts I can put forth. I also am working on keeping my internal state focused on a future spring. Towards that end I’ve decided to start keeping a journal again.
I haven’t kept a journal regularly in a long time, largely because of the aforementioned – and ongoing — circumstances overwhelming me. Recording of such things seemed like an exercise in self-torture.
This journaling gap is ironic of course. For anyone who journals knows that such situations are when you probably need to journal the most; hardships tend to form the meatiest parts of your life. You are partly writing for yourself – as therapy, as clarification, or as just pure output, artistic or otherwise — but you are also writing for your future self.
A self that is shaped by the words you put on the page even if they are never read again.
For thoughts lead to other thoughts, lines lead to other lines, and days lead to other days as we continue with our life’s revisions.
I crack open the cellophane on a hardbound journal I had in storage. I’ve used various notebooks over the years. Many of them are cheap, spiral bound ones of various dimensions and page counts. The one just opened is a nicer one and is the last one I have on hand.
The journal I kept before this one was journal number 100.