Buried Treasure
Today I am grateful for time and conversation with my friend Jenny. I am also grateful for the writing I have done throughout my life.
When I was preparing my presentation on gratitude for a local church group in early February, I was looking for my first diary. I got it for Christmas when I was 11. I couldn't find it then, but of course a few weeks later I came across it. I found the treasure buried in a box inside of a tote. I had to move a couple other totes to get to this tote. Yes, it was officially buried.
Now it is found and free, and I am enjoying reading a few pages at a time. It was a gift when I first got it and it remains a gift today. I have to laugh at my handwriting-sometimes stilted and sometimes barely legible. And the variations on "Today was an okay day" that I liked to use often.
But that diary was the beginning of my life as a writer. I felt the value of putting pen to paper. I felt the release of emotions coming from my heart and flowing through my pen. They may have been fairly uncomplicated emotions at that age, but they were still mine, and writing helped me sort them out.
I continued to journal after that first diary, and I started writing poems. Dozens of journals and over 1,500 poems later, the writer in me continues to emerge. And I continue to seek the treasure of knowing myself and the surrounding world better, the treasure of self-acceptance. Writing is a key tool for me on those treasure hunts.
A year ago tomorrow, I launched "Habitual Gratitude." That leap into the blogosphere has really helped me as a writer and as a person who practices gratitude. More on that tomorrow.
For today, I will keep my eyes and ears open for other treasures.
When I was preparing my presentation on gratitude for a local church group in early February, I was looking for my first diary. I got it for Christmas when I was 11. I couldn't find it then, but of course a few weeks later I came across it. I found the treasure buried in a box inside of a tote. I had to move a couple other totes to get to this tote. Yes, it was officially buried.
Now it is found and free, and I am enjoying reading a few pages at a time. It was a gift when I first got it and it remains a gift today. I have to laugh at my handwriting-sometimes stilted and sometimes barely legible. And the variations on "Today was an okay day" that I liked to use often.
But that diary was the beginning of my life as a writer. I felt the value of putting pen to paper. I felt the release of emotions coming from my heart and flowing through my pen. They may have been fairly uncomplicated emotions at that age, but they were still mine, and writing helped me sort them out.
I continued to journal after that first diary, and I started writing poems. Dozens of journals and over 1,500 poems later, the writer in me continues to emerge. And I continue to seek the treasure of knowing myself and the surrounding world better, the treasure of self-acceptance. Writing is a key tool for me on those treasure hunts.
A year ago tomorrow, I launched "Habitual Gratitude." That leap into the blogosphere has really helped me as a writer and as a person who practices gratitude. More on that tomorrow.
For today, I will keep my eyes and ears open for other treasures.
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