My journal does a lot of things for me. It makes me aware of where I have been, what I have done, teaches me about myself and my life. Helps me to keep track of my friends and my feelings at moments. This morning, it helped me remember all of those things, especially what day it is.
Have you ever done that? Awakened and become aware that you are not quite sure what day of the week you are operating in? I did that this morning, sort of stumbling through my usual routine, but kind of confused because thoughts about what was supposed to be going on today were blending into tomorrow and yesterday. I finally stopped when I got to my journal page because I realized I just couldn’t think of exactly where I was.
So, I read through yesterday’s page. No wonder I was confused. A great deal has been happening. Lots of changes and alterations looming on the horizon. People, both friends and family, with life altering health issues, a huge possible move for one with daily implications of change for me personally. And a small incident that happened in my home, that I wasn’t even aware of until last night. Nothing major, just a bit stunned that I missed it completely.
Spring is definitely shaking the moth balls out of her green skirt. And I don’t think I’m quite ready for her arrival. I had gotten nicely comfortable with my quiet slow-paced winter days and evenings. Now, it seems, suddenly that is all at an end. And here I am, just wanting to sit down and relax for a few minutes. Nothing to do but pick up the pace and hope it all happens as smoothly as possible.
It’s funny. I write this blog about keeping a journal because it is what I know about, have taught, and really believe it is genuinely important for all kinds of reasons. Then suddenly get slapped in the face with the reality of just how important it can be and is to me, personally. I really don’t want to miss a day because of confusion or any other reason. I only have so many of them and that makes each one important.
My Mother is ninety years old. She does really well, but is also slipping a bit and its becoming apparent to all of us. She doesn’t always remember things, people, or aspects of her own history. She needs more of our attention and we have figured out a way to accomplish that without limiting her sense of independence and freedom. She is also a very proud lady and we take pride in all of that.
At the same time, that all reminds me of my own age and thoughts about my own future. I take pride in the same things my mother does. And although I have been keeping a journal for many many years, I am far more aware of its importance now, then ever before. A very long time ago, I read that one of the major issues about aging is keeping the mental faculties alert. I decided that keeping a journal would be, for me, a cornerstone in my own process of preparing for that reality. I am so glad that I did.
The few minutes I spent reading yesterday’s journal page, put me back on track and even helped me decide what I need to get done today. I could have just kept stumbling through, hoping that at some point, I’d make it around the corner and it would all fall in place again. It’s scary to think there might come a day when it doesn’t. There are very good reasons why people fear old age, and that is one of the biggest of them.
At the moment, I am old, but not yet elderly. Personally, I intend to push those limits for as long as possible. Which means I will continue to challenge myself and my mental faculties wherever possible. I did that yesterday, as a matter of fact. I invited Diddums to send me some of her art to use as inspiration on my poetry site. She graciously and promptly agreed. You can find the results at:
and you can find Diddums at:
My journal is looking somewhat like an anchor in all of that, at this moment. Perhaps, more a key. Yup, I like that definition better. An anchor is meant to limit movement, or to at least slow it down. A key holds the promise of further possibilities. The same sort of possibilities held in those green skirts that Spring is shaking loose. I might have thought, even wished, that she would hold off for a while, but I certainly can’t hold her back from doing and being exactly what she is: an invitation to new beginnings.
So, take a deep breath, pick up the pace, and whatever you do, don’t forget that key.