And don't get me started on pens or office supplies. I go almost apoplectic just walking in there. Over the years, I've amassed a rather large and eclectic collection of notebooks. I use different notebooks for different tasks- one to write morning pages, one to write character ideas, one to specifically journal in. And I can't tell you what makes me attracted to a particular notebook - my tastes run the gamut from unlined, expensive art paper to lined $.39 notebooks with a plain green cover. My attraction to notebooks is like abstract art - I can't describe what I like, but I know it when I see it. About a month ago, I found this notebook in a lovely store in Clarksville, called Nest:
Believe me when I say that this photo doesn't do it justice. I saw it and I literally had a visceral reaction to it. I picked it up and literally starting crying. Why would I cry holding a notebook you ask? I have no frickin idea- I just did. And I had to have it. So I bought it and brought it home and then...it sat. Unused. Occasionally I'd pick it up and hold it and try to discern what to use it for. And I got nothing, except that it had to hold something beautiful. Then I'd put it down and leave it untouched.
Until Sunday when I finally realized what purpose this beautiful, delicate, spiritual notebook was destined for. It has become a gratitude journal. I've never kept one before, I never needed to - I was well aware of all that I had to be grateful for and I've always been the eternal optimist. And then this year tackled me, kicked my in the kidneys and left me for dead on the curb. And suddenly it's become hard for me to see how much I really have.
So this little journal has now become a big part of my life. And it feels right.
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