Returning to the goal of regular journalling. A straight-forward way of giving time to myself first. Of listening to what’s going on in this mysterious internal world. I know it works for me. Its a useful way of burning off steam, of sorting out thoughts, a mental strainer. It’s the day after Christmas and I am looking forward to a week of relative routine. Nothing sounds better than the simple steps of getting up, working, yoga, time with my sweetheart. Not in a rush, but enjoying the simple kind of purpose.
Began the morning with a few chapters of Finders Keepers. Rich stuff. Got caught up in a story of high stakes adventure – the star-crossed encounter between Yuanlu and Stein at the ancient Cave of the Thousand Buddhas on the edge of Taklamakan Desert in China. An ancient library uncovered, behind a door sealed a thousand years before. A deal to release the cache of ancient texts brokered by their shared admiration for the ancient monk Xuanzang – an early traveler studying the different ways of worship along the silk road.
I have fantasies of saving this story. Buying the book and marking the pages (123). Reading it again and again until it is committed to memory and I can retell it in great rich detail to my kids before they go to bed. When I close my eyes I can feel that magic of bedtime story-time. I can see it taking shape and color in young imaginations. A tradition of feeding the spirit hungry for adventure.
