Thursday, or Thereabouts - March 9, 2023

"I arise today

In the name of Silence
Womb of the Word,

In the name of Stillness
Home of Belonging,

In the name of Solitude
Of the soul and the Earth."

John O’Donohue, Irish poet and philosopher
“Matins” (Morning Prayer)
From To Bless the Space Between Us
https://johnodonohue.com/

Wrapped in warmth and sunshine I sat in the sunroom yesterday, my body comfortable in my writing space, my home. The many months since I last wrote a blog post or even a journal entry have been event-FULL while still wrapped in the pandemic. I could re-visit all the happenings, ups, downs, and sideways, but why bother with stuff in the rear view mirror? Today is a new day so I'll begin there and see where my "write" hand takes me.

In my journal writing I have noticed that in a frantic attempt to keep up with my thoughts, my pen moves onto the next word without finishing the last one. The page becomes messy with angry cross outs only to be replaced with a similar error and another cross out. My joy in writing comes in large part from physical act of writing longhand with a fountain pen. Errors in that process are truly annoying! Perhaps I need to make an effort to write more slowly. The thoughts can't disappear that fast can they? Maybe they can...I mean sometimes when speaking I start a sentence and then forget where I was going with it. Normal perhaps for one pushing 70 but not welcome. 

Just this morning I spent an hour looking for one of my favourite fountain pens. I was sure that I had tucked it away in a safe location before we went on vacation. This pen is my most expensive and I didn't want to come home to find it missing. Yet that is exactly what happened, no break in or theft required. I searched all the likely hidey holes umpteen times then went on to the highly unlikely but you never know places, before coming back to the more usual drawers and cupboards. 

The man then joined in the search, no doubt drawn by the sound of drawers slamming and expletives. Standing in the kitchen I looked across the harvest table to engage my husband in a discussion of search strategy.  I was about to open my mouth when my brain registered what my eye had seen amongst the clutter of stuff on the table - a tan leather case standing upright in its usual place, the case I had bought at the Toronto Pen Show in October. My inner critic screamed in my head, "You IDIOT! It's in the pen case the one YOU bought to hold all the precious fountain pens!"

Oh crap, Really? Well, yes there it was right where it belonged, tucked safely upright, hidden in plain sight. Humbled but not defeated, I headed to the warmth and light of my writing space, opened a brand new journal and began to write again. 

It's another sunny day here today and sunroom beckons. See y'all later.