the box
A friend brought a box of my stuff up from Winnipeg in August and it wasn't until the bootcamp was done and I was back in this little town working on some papers that I actually started to go through it.
It really is strange how an old box can stir so much.
This old box full of items - small and large - that are direct lines to a time in my past. Each thing I touch, smell, and feel takes me back to a time that seems so long ago. To people, places, and memories tucked away in my mind.
I pick up old comics and suddenly I am in a memory, caught up in a conversation, and smelling the weeds out the front door, the noisy cars rushing past as they go about their days driving busy streets full of lots of people. Flipping through my old sketch book from when I first arrived in Winnipeg and seeing attempted ideas on the page, thoughts and forms that were soaring around in my little head - it really is like finding something from centuries back.
Old journals hold old thoughts and journeys of times past and as I read the words I am caught up in how different I have become, how far the journey has moved on and how strange it is to be reading the words I once wrote so long ago.
Each sentence seems to reveal so much. As though each thought is a time warp directly to a specific room in the house, conversations had, or issues wrestled with. It is both wonderful and confusing how words, scents, and sounds can do that.
Finding moments like these to read old journals and look at where your life and heart were and where they are now - is an interesting moment. I find myself missing people, dear friends, old jobs that I hated and bosses that were crap, I miss making coffee for caffeine starving Christmas goers that were willing to wait in line almost an hour and a half just for some coffee. I always thought they were nuts.
Christmas nuts.
It is good to be in this place - on this journey - and I wonder when I will find my journals from today and where I will be when I read them.
It really is strange how an old box can stir so much.
This old box full of items - small and large - that are direct lines to a time in my past. Each thing I touch, smell, and feel takes me back to a time that seems so long ago. To people, places, and memories tucked away in my mind.
I pick up old comics and suddenly I am in a memory, caught up in a conversation, and smelling the weeds out the front door, the noisy cars rushing past as they go about their days driving busy streets full of lots of people. Flipping through my old sketch book from when I first arrived in Winnipeg and seeing attempted ideas on the page, thoughts and forms that were soaring around in my little head - it really is like finding something from centuries back.
Old journals hold old thoughts and journeys of times past and as I read the words I am caught up in how different I have become, how far the journey has moved on and how strange it is to be reading the words I once wrote so long ago.
Each sentence seems to reveal so much. As though each thought is a time warp directly to a specific room in the house, conversations had, or issues wrestled with. It is both wonderful and confusing how words, scents, and sounds can do that.
Finding moments like these to read old journals and look at where your life and heart were and where they are now - is an interesting moment. I find myself missing people, dear friends, old jobs that I hated and bosses that were crap, I miss making coffee for caffeine starving Christmas goers that were willing to wait in line almost an hour and a half just for some coffee. I always thought they were nuts.
Christmas nuts.
It is good to be in this place - on this journey - and I wonder when I will find my journals from today and where I will be when I read them.
© Lady Raeh 10:05 AM
