Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Eastward Bound

I have to say, this city I call home has been unbelievably beautiful this past month. We had the loveliest snowfall the day after Christmas, and since that day the snow has been falling/melting/falling... Right now it's certainly melting under the weight of these twelve degrees, the tree roots I'm sure, are happy, and so are my feet in their galoshes.

I had decided at the beginning of January to get writing again. I used to be a writer, like so many other things I used to do, and I've been missing it. Let me tell you; I have been writing more than I have in years. Pages and pages nearly every day, and it's been so helpful. I've found a voice of reason deep within myself, those words of wisdom often sought out in friends have been inside me all along. I just had to buckle down and find them, and I have. 

When I was a teen, I hashed out my feelings every day, in copious numbers of tattered journals. It was my escape, and it was how I made sense of those shaky years. I had forgotten how important it is to listen to my own voice, I had forgotten how to listen. Now, in writing every day, I'm finding that inner voice again, and I'm realizing that so many of the answers I've been looking for have been right here all along, I just had to pay attention to what was there inside me.

It's amazing how after an hour of pounding out random thoughts, a final paragraph will emerge, almost completely on it's own, with a nugget of advice that will calm me and bring me back into a present, but growing forward state. A little reminder of what it is, exactly, that I need to do will almost write itself here on my screen, and tell me what I need to hear.

The beauty of this is the burden that has been relieved from my friends' shoulders. I no longer spend my hours with them venting, complaining or trying to figure out this life. Rather, I can share those hours in pure laughter and joy because the previous venting has been solely done on my own, hours before, and I emerge from that feeling cleansed of the weight of a thousand words of wonder.

I've definitely become a little quieter these days, as I'm slowly learning to think more before I speak, to speak only when I have something I really want to say, to be present in the moment, and to listen. With a clear mind, it's easier to take in the simple moments like splashing through the puddles in the lane, watching the snowfall in front of the streetlights and seeing the beauty in the small things.