In the middle of untangling some theories of modernism this morning (snore) I was delightfully distracted by that little blue bird that tells me there is a new tweet from some fantastic awesome person I am following/tweavesdropping / spying /stalking /loving on… and I was so touched by what I read, that it totally deserved ‘another’ study break… because when the outline is this:
‘We’re bringing on the fresh horses every day. Life keeps going. I don’t know who hands us the reins for our fresh horses .. I just know that I dig my cowboy boots into the stirrups and ride like my life depends on it. The horses that got me to that point in my life grow weary and collapse but I go on like a gladiator. So do you.’
Eden Riley here
And it thumps you right in the heart because thats exactly what your little spirit needed to hear right now, well that deserves a place on the Saturday morning weekly schedule. And it also heralds my heart to some semblance of normal – I’ve had a break from my favourite links, from reading, from supporting, from commenting, and i have felt so lost. So disconnected. So not me. And I’ve felt it, and seen it in myself, captured those debbie downer thoughts, and let them rob me of my sleep.
So. Let me return… and return I will….
I am someone who adores writing. I am somewhat of a stationery whore, and I always. ALWAYS carry around, purchase, borrow a thousand pieces of paper, and books, and post its, colourful pens, sharpies and highlighters. It lets me say all those things I could never say in real life. It lets me show my emotion in a way that isn’t destructive. It lets me remember the beautiful things that I want to look back on and know I climbed that mountain and conquered that battle. It lets me see what I am feeling – particularly when I cannot process or articulate it for the life of me.
You see, my handwriting is crazy, loopy, beautiful and tangled, like its always just bursting to escape….
I have my journal writing
I have my bright, colourful, trying to make study fun outline writing
I have my ‘angry’ writing.. too fast, too furious, just needs to get out… now…
And my planning / organising handwriting….
To me, handwriting is beautiful. Sure, I can type faster – but I can’t type with that much emotion – or precision. I can’t type and feel the weight of the pen in my hand, and the pressure of it on the paper. i can’t feel the texture of the paper, and pound out my anger in exactly the same way as I can when its physical. I can’t focus quite so well on the computer as I can when its me and my books, or my pieces of paper. I can’t take notes when i am trying my darndest to help a client and remember the important bits when i am typing or staring at my computer.
Sure, the words i type on my computer help me to connect – but they don’t help me to be quite so present in the moment as when I am writing. There is something so sweet and romantic in receiving a handwritten lunchbox letter:
So. Those fresh horses? That feeling of belonging? Of being part of something? Of being supported, valued, good at something? Of being heard? I’m excited to have that time of a Saturday morning – with someone I have long read, and respected and admired. Go here to be a part -
< and for the record, i still feel like this year is life changing, like parts of me are being pulled apart, challenged, and put back together… I’ve never felt so encouraged, and supported… I’ve never felt like i have had so many cheerleaders who see my heart and love, just so love on me, so thank you, for those who twitter with me, read me, comment me and email me. I love this space. LOVE. >