Writing as a meditation

Journals everywhere.

When I’m in a state of confusion or transition, my journal is my clarity. Holding a pen or pencil and letting words flow onto the page as always felt like a meditation for me. I don’t think of words to say or try to tell a story.

Somewhere inside, I thought maybe I was a storyteller or a sage. Sharing nuggets of wisdom or insight through my writing and teaching. But when I picked up a pen, any thoughts of what I wanted to say or tell someone never came out. Some other poetic or abstract universal ‘gibberish’ would end up on the page.

For a while, I quit writing because it wasn’t practical and helpful. My worth was tied to helping and supporting others. I wanted to be valuble, and when I wrote or transmitted these types of messages, I felt that others wouldn’t understand. So I went to work.

I just wrote notes, created courses, made lists and to-dos. I would only write in my journals as a morning meditation—letting the “gibberish” out so I could do the other more productive work of life.

Now I’m back, wanting to write again, feeling the silent and empty screams of my notebooks, planners, and journals on my desk. And by the way, I have a desk. It's my comfort zone. I realized many moms/women don't have a place they sit and write, read, work in there home. I digress.

Writing things, making phrases and sentences out of my thoughts is clarity for me. It molds my world, unburdens my heart and lets me easily move through the world feeling complete, heard and aligned. When I’m writing, other worlds begin to form and take shape that I would otherwise leave to die or carry as unfinished missions, tasks and guilt.

I’ll be over here doodling, clearing my head and heart and creating more space to grow.