Tonight I say good-bye to an old friend.
I’m not sure why I feel so sad about its passing, besides the fact that’s just the kind of guy I am. And yes, I find it strange that I personify inanimate objects the way I do. I don’t deny I’m a romantic.
I say it’s strange because I’m not a keeper. I curse the clutter that surrounds me. I’m always looking to minimalize and reduce whenever possible, yet I mourn the loss of a rusty old car or a plastic popcorn bowl. I know those things meant something to me. They were there for me when I needed them to be just what they were.
Some things have a way of elevating their importance in my life.
The leather-bound journal I received from my wife two Christmases ago is one of these objects. Blank pages make my imagination soar; they give me the power to create from nothing. Once written, they safeguard the words and images my mind concocts. It’s an old friend always willing to listen to the darkest of thoughts and provides the most honest reflections.
There were days last year I did nothing but write in those pages. I unlocked desires and rid myself of guilt. I began to transform my life in that messy mad-scientist way new beginnings always manifest themselves.
The book itself is beautiful. A thick leather cover surrounds weighty blank sheets that absorb the ink like a sponge. An embossed tree and Celtic looking designs remind me of the sacred relationship between man and page and pen.
I cherish this journal.
This Christmas, I was given a new journal. It’s just as inspiring as the last, but it’s different. No designs adorn its exterior, and the pages burst with compacted lines. A place to put the date sits atop the header, and a thicker leather thong wraps around it.
The significance of these details engages me. Why has this particular journal been gifted to me now?
Structure; it’s the next stage of my development. The blank page allows me to wander, but the lines give me discipline. Dates remind me of the shortness of life that now is the time to get started. A plan is in order, and the tools are there for me.
The road to living the life I desire might be on these pages; to make them real, I have to write it down.
Where it takes me next will be an adventure.
Write. Discover. Unlock.
-Mike Sposito Owner of Spowerks LLC