Journal (12.13.12)

Hello, journal.

I’ve come to be with you again. I would really like to talk with you for better or worse more often, because you are a place that I can come lay my heavy head down or scream with the glee of a child as per my mood. I know you are always around for me, and that it is a matter of truly utilizing you. You are so wonderful and patient, journal. You sit on my shelf and make no fuss at all, and happily greet me when I choose to spend time divulging my heart to you. Never do I feel judged by you- in fact, you seem to take the ugliest of emotions from the pit of my soul and turn them into something beautiful, helpful, and worthwhile. You don’t make me feel amateur- you give me a sense of accomplishment and establishment. You give me a sense of purpose.

Okay- what to discuss… I’ve been feeling a lot of shifting in terms of my personal capacity for sharing myself and self worth in general. I feel a great deal of change taking place inside of me, and I am seeing the external situations and circumstances manifesting as per my intention to get up and move and really begin the projects that I have been sitting on my hands, blocking myself. I am seeing the fruits of my creativity and the positive response my blog is generating in the short time it has been active. It is so exciting to watch my viewership jump and seeing people engaged with what I write. It brings me so much accomplished joy to see my words and heart make an impact on someone, they way other’s words have for me. My loving dedication to this is what nourishes and sustains me. My art is a representation to the world and myself of the connectivity of my heart to everyone else. Love is far reaching and expanding, encompassing and deep, and it needs avenues for expression. Lubing up the gears of my creativity train, I see that I have some rusty spots that stick and halt movement from the safe station, but with tender love and understanding, this train will take off and cruise like no other. So many creative ideas swirl around inside of me, so much that flies past. Paper is the cage that I use to contain the flights of imagination that would otherwise get away from me. These pages help… I just want to recognize that they are here to help and I don’t need to see them as threatening or imposing upon me. They are a tool just like everything else is.

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