One of my friends likes to refer to my having a hypergraphic streak, and perhaps there’s something to such jovial jabs to tell me I have stumbled into a writer’s life. But assuredly not a real writer. The sort of writing I do at my profession must be factual and unambiguous. Journal writing is different, having no rules, no assigned audience, and without a set pace or context. It’s really quite liberating, and reflective writing can take on any theme- including the topic of reflective writing.
Be that as it may, one may be as the biblical clanging cymbal of insubstantial verbiage, or the pilgrimage and its narrative may be such that we “lose track of time.” Years back, during a spirit-breaking crisis, I took a few days’ leave of my job and life to journey to a monastery for a retreat. One of my colleagues sent me off with a small blank book, which I gratefully received while confessing that I had nothing to write and did not imagine myself to be a diary-keeping type. “You’ll have plenty to write, when you get there,” my friend said. But, truly, don’t we do what we do because we know we must? Much like the life of faith, there are explorations, then reinforcing nurture; there are observances and reflections- or, if we will, there is reading and there is writing.
As thoughts and words manifested together, it became necessary to write; It became vital, especially in the immediately ensuing years, that I cultivate the silent witness to my life’s voyages by articulating my adventures and thoughts in writing.
Read La Vie Graphite
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From the coast of Maine, ever musing upon life’s fascinating mysteries and living a pilgrimage of trust on earth. “La Vie Graphite,” the Graphite Life- began in pencil, and continues as an equally erasable medium of varying tones. Heavy thoughts at times, but from a lighthearted soul- always glad to hear from kindred souls.