When I went to the store to buy new notebooks, fresh clean multipage sheets of lined paper for recording morning thoughts, the shiny blue and white covers of one particular coil model caught my eyes. Two hundred sheets and on sale. I didn’t even bother to open them. I bought three plus two of my favourite silver barreled fine tip black pens with refills. I was set to do my morning pages again with the slight alteration of making it an approximately 500 word minimum.
The next day morning came early as my inner child woke me with the excited thought of new clean notebooks. Pushing the pillows up against the wall and tucking the blankets around me, I reached for my new notebook and shiny pen only to open it and find graph paper, the 4 squares per inch I hadn’t bothered to read on the front cover. Graph paper!
Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty of graph paper around the apartment. When my mind starts spinning in circle about a problem or I just can’t deal quite then with something that is going on around me, I settle my mind by drawing house plans. Something about building in all the rooms for living while working to find some new angle or curve in the rooms that fits some particular function pulls the parts of my brain together and focuses them so that the part that needs to sort the problem can rest or can work it out without so many distractions. Graph paper was for drawing, not writing.
But wait! Don’t I often talk of writing as painting with words? Maybe this notebook wasn’t so wrong after all. Maybe being reminded of the link between the visual images and lines in my head and the words on the page was just what I needed. Just like I loved to plan those houses, I could begin to build a space for myself in the words on the pages. My first journal entry featured an art room I would build as the start of that dream home.
I really didn’t get the room designed, I got caught up with the mural I would paint on the wall of mountains and lakes and trees, memories of my childhood. It didn’t matter, the room had been built where it mattered – in my thoughts – and my inner artist could begin creeping out to touch and hold the brushes that once again were available to her hands.
Today is another day of building. Having the opportunity to build a new web site for my music class, I had explored the possibilities of the product we were to use and found that it gave me the option of having more than one page. Of course, my thoughts turned here. I framed the home for my words in the late hours of the night and went to sleep tired but ready to go further when next I had the chance. It came sooner than I planned.
I pinned these words for a small stones group I have joined:
Okay, not this morning
My inner child
was strangely accommodating
to the need for just one more
hour of sleep
I had stayed up late
we could rest
safety on the drive to work
I wake to write one paragraph
Setting in contract
my child’s willingness to wait
laying my pen down
the phone rings
“Due to severe weather conditions
there will be no school today”
My inner child chortles
You, sly child, you
O the patience of children
when they know that we adults
missed the clues.
No school today. Besides classes the focus of my day was to have been a meeting to learn how to work on my website for my class. The second site available to me with that program could be my practice site while housing my writings and arts. Today I could explore the possibilities there.
So today my words are not about evaluating and looking back. They are about the now of moving forward and learning the mechanics of how to create a space for my inner artist to communicate with others. Today there would be words of writing but the joy and energy would be toward this creation of a home to house all those things hidden inside. Yes, today is a day for building.