Space is Sacred

Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way was recommended to me about 20 years ago. I spent a few years doing the Morning Pages which is a journal that accompanies the primary book. From what I can tell, I journaled from 2002 to 2005, from 2007 to 2011 and I am going to pick it back up again.

Part of the process of the Morning Pages is that you do not go back and re-read what you wrote. It is just a mind dumping process. Dump first thing in the morning onto three pages. You do not judge the writing, the penmanship, the poor grammar or misspelled words or yourself. You just write and close the journal until the next day.

I have taken a few of these journals off the shelf, and dare I say I am like, "Who is this person?" Not in a bad way, but there was a freedom in those pages that is not here with me presently. I guess I was so much in need of dumping after 30 years of living that I allowed it all to just fall onto the pages. Like taunt boils or festering wounds, it was easier to lance back then. I just had to squeeze a little.

Today the layers of skin have harden a bit. Perhaps it was due to the spiritual assault of the last 5 years from a country that chose to so easily give power and life to all its psychopathy and insanity. Brevity is not often as brief as one thinks. Perhaps it is just the passage of time and decades of knowing more and understanding less. But, yet I am reminded in such gentle ways that it is not too late to seek cleansing,- to know healing, and no matter how calloused the skin, there is a balm that heals.

I have enjoyed reading these few pages so far. I cared a great deal for the people around me during that time... more so then now. Maybe it was because I was in Southern California and not the Red state of Texas. Perhaps it was just the feeling of closeness and connectedness I had with the seniors at the retirement community. I think so. Maybe. Space is a sacred entity. 

On the same shelves as the journals are pages of poetry. I also flipped though a few pages of poems. All this writing that also found their home in journals, smaller journals, journals given me by students or friends or family surrendered to dusty shelves. I see where I would write the giver's name on the first page of the journal and the date. I read where I wrote something about the person. Sadly, some I remember and some I don't. Still I pray for them all. They have blessed me along the way. Space is a sacred entity.