Hi friends, thank you so much for spending some time here today at Adulting – Second Half. Your time is precious and I appreciate you giving some of it here. It means a lot to me, in ways that I don’t really have the words to explain. My heart goes out to my west coast readers. Please stay safe and well, amidst these roaring fires. Prayers and love to you.
I keep a lot of paper journals and such, full of words and pictures that have held inspirational meaning and interest to me. I picked up one journal which I kept about a decade ago, which as you recall, was during the Great Recession, another stressful, precarious time for a lot of us. The physical journal itself is kind of gaudy. It is made of a dark red brocade that actually has stuffing inside of it. The cover has large plastic, brightly colored gemstones (some that have fallen off), sewn on to it. It is one of those things that you look at it, and you ask yourself, “Did I actually think this was pretty at one time? What was my mental state at the time of purchasing this?” It is one of those physical reminders to ourselves, that we are constantly in a state of change, always opening up from a new cocoon of ideas and perspectives, sometimes even on a daily basis.
On that note, my husband buys me one of those Awkward Family Photo Calendars, every year, for my stocking at Christmas. I love it. It guarantees me at least one daily laugh, but what I like best about it, is the reminder of people’s humility. The people who send their pictures into the calendar company have the ability to laugh at themselves, and that is a lovely trait in a person. Yesterday’s picture was a professional portrait of a young woman, obviously a product of the 1980s, with an enormous heavily sprayed nest of bangs, that could have managed to be its own head of hair, itself. I thought to myself, this woman is laughing at her 1980s self, along with the rest of us, but on that day, she put a lot of time and effort and money into her “look.” She felt good enough that day, about how she looked, to pay a professional photographer to take her picture. Her real beauty shines through all of that sprayed, elevated, shock of hair, because she has self reflection enough, to not take herself too seriously. She loves herself at every step of the game, and that is so refreshing. She’s beautiful.
Back to my point, despite its over-the-top physicality, the garish journal is filled on the inside with words and pictures and inspirations that have shaped my life. I even have some fortunes from fortune cookies taped in there, and cuttings from newspapers, magazines, and elementary school newsletters. When I was filling up this particular journal, I did not have writing a public blog in mind, so unfortunately I don’t have the sources of most of these wisdoms. Still, I believe all wisdom, comes from a higher source, and those of us who write stuff down, are usually just quirky little scribes and messengers. Anyway, this has just been a long way of me saying that in this flashy, showy journal, that at one time caught my eye and I must have found to be physically pleasing enough to claim it as mine, I found a quote yesterday that was cut out of magazine that explained what I have been trying to say in all of these paragraphs above, maybe even in all of these blog posts, for the last couple of years. At the very least, it describes my precious and precocious inspirational scrapbook/journal perfectly:
“I miss my mother, and I find myself walking through her house in my memory, remembering her ways and seeing beauty. Beauty, for her, was a mix of the deep and the superficial: that which gives us pleasure and that which gives us peace.” (source unknown)
Picking out and purchasing my ostentatious journal, and filling it up with words and images that have helped to mold me into the current version of me, gave me great pleasure. And the words inside of it, still give me great peace. Maybe life is meant to be just that simple, a happy mix of pleasure and peace. It’s quite possible. It’s certainly not a bad way to live.
