day planning
January 14, 2016 § 9 Comments
It was just after I drew January’s calendar of days that I came across a brightly colored, inexpensive day planner. The cheerful hue drew me from my task. I hesitated, weighing the frivolousness of my find, but there was just enough joy in the discovery that I indulged my impulsivity and invested in whimsy.
Appreciative of the convenience of technology but nostalgic in my love of paper, I decided I would use the large blocks of space to map my thoughts on multiple classes, preserve fleeting inspiration from borrowed quotes, chart the work of unexceptional errands and note efforts toward personal care.
Curiosities and quotes, doodles and debts of time now sketched in a place near to where I rest. Gone are the torn fragments of hurried scribbles and misplaced thoughts in want of paper. It is a diary of days and a place of self, an active commitment to an investment of time.
“Apparently there is nothing that cannot happen today!” ―Mark Twain
calendar girl
January 2, 2016 § 2 Comments
We find remembering like blossoms beneath dried leaves, signs of life forgotten in seasons of slumber.
Years ago I would draw clean lines on blank paper, cataloguing my days into calendars. I did this with a concentrated, meditative calm; sharp lines and curving script that wrestled the chaos of responsibilities and daydreams into the promise of time and attention.
I have a fondness for paper and pencil, order and time that was ever-present, but untended in the space I so often look to guide my hours.
This morning I borrowed my daughter’s new artist pad and marker, free handing an old love onto a clean page. In the familiar lines I remembered grade school calendars etched onto ruled paper and college calendars doodled into the margins of my notes; it was the way I counted my way through difficult experiences and the measure by which I held anticipation close.
“Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
Such a little thing, a block of days to remember the past and map the future. More than necessity or function, they were a love letter to the minutes that collected beneath my pen. How could I have forgotten such a simple joy in so obvious a place?
Today I am drawing my own calendar, imperfect lines and favorite quotes; encouragements pledged in my own hand. Still, there is something more to this moment I want to guard, for myself and my children; a lesson too easily lost in plain sight.
To my children,
Note those easy distractions that your hands reach for with muscle memory, the soul whispers that inform joy. Unconventional materials shaped into familiar objects, wood carvings, and written ramblings. There will come a time when the burdens of your responsibilities will threaten to distract you from these exercises in self – guard them. There is time enough in every day for joy.
Love, Mom
calendar days
January 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
January sweeps away the old year with a gust of cool air. Snow flurries cover the ground and the world feels new, a year of calendar days unmarked like untouched snow. I have turned my attention to our home peeking inside drawers and behind cabinet doors, looking for ways to sweep away clutter making room for days to come.
Hidden beneath my children’s carefully printed stories and classroom artwork were a decade’s worth of old calendars piled together haphazardly. The years were out-of-order, some marked in datebooks and others stretched between folded wall calendars. Empty days and holidays, milestones and monotonous moments touching. Carefully printed plans, generously embellished celebrations, hurriedly scribbled notes and coded reminders. Different shades of ink blurring into abstract impressions over time.
I gathered my first moments as a wife and mother and began saving old dates for my children. Sentiment was my companion as I revisited the past. I could neither save the calendars nor list every moment. The practical side of me wanted to let go of old paper; nostalgia tugged at my heartstrings and I attempted to draw my past into notes to keep them present.
I am simplifying and organizing days that unfolded mindless of order, finding distractions in moments forgotten. Recycling faded paper to make room for new mementos, saving pieces of the past for the future. Holding tight and letting go.
home & holidays
December 27, 2011 § Leave a comment
The traditions and preparations that fill the month of December with busy anticipation have faded into quiet moments, unhurried afternoons of play and rest. While my children were distracted with new gifts and the company of grandparents, I stole a moment yesterday to nestle our ornaments away for the coming year.
The time between Christmas and New Year’s is a celebration of another year shared and of calendar days yet wrapped in wonder; the year ahead a gift of unknown, limitless adventure. While some draft resolutions, schedule plans, pledge promises to others; I try to create room for something new. Like a breath of fresh air waking us from dreams of sugar plums, I affectionately send Christmas to rest and draw an extra chair inviting the New Year into our home.
I gift each child a new calendar and a pen asking them to map their year with dreams. I ask them to envision not only deadlines and routines, but to seek out windows of time for travel and adventure. To look closely at the neat squares on paper that mark the year ahead with opportunity, least they overlook possibility.
scribblechic 