I wrote for hours yesterday, trying to unravel my emotions, explore my thoughts, and relieve my frustration at work. On a day of rest? Yes, and I was not resting, because of the weight I was carrying around.
The writing helped with all three needs, and a lot more. It showed me alternatives I hadn’t considered before. It helped me discern what I want vs what I need. It lifted my soul.
It was also exhausting. I had no energy left to do a public post. Rather than edit what I had written in my private exposition as a post, I chose to write out a page for my calligraphy.
Later, I was reading through the compendium of feedback on the wonderful A Word A Day subscription. One message grabbed me, and had me reaching for my pen immediately. I wrote out the letter as my evening meditation. The writer’s own reasons for writing reflected Joan Didion’s. They are far more eloquent in expressing those sentiments than I, so I couldn’t help but write it all out in my own hand.
I sent a picture of that meditation to the author last night, to express my gratitude. It may end up in her spam. The exercise of making the effort was what I needed last night, and for that inspiration, I am grateful.
Edit: It reached her! I’m so glad to have received a reply. I seem to have made her day. Her reply has made mine 🙂