I am so happy I’m writing again.

I remember the times of old where I’d suddenly think, “Oh, I should write about this!” Decided, I’d then turn words around in my head, thinking about what I wanted to capture. I’d relive the moments a bit in the process, and if I was really taking my time I’d try to choose the perfect words to capture feelings and thoughts.

I’m having those thoughts again now, and I can’t help but think about what I wrote a few months ago regarding my mindfulness, or, more rightly, lack thereof. In that writing I asked rhetorically, “Dang; have I ever really appreciated anything? Do I just not stop and think often enough?”

Has writing been my ticket to mindfulness all along? At work my notes are my secret weapon, the action of taking them tickling some part of my brain into paying attention and storing. Maybe the reason I’ve been drawn to journaling for so many years is that it helps me pay attention to life, helps me savor living.

Further, maybe giving up writing for pleasure for the past several years is partly responsible for me feeling like I’m living too fast. Perhaps I’m just not allowing myself to process things in the way that best helps me appreciate them – writing them down.


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