Tonight I was rummaging around in my bag at work, and I came across one of my journals. Last year, in August, I started keeping a journal for the first time in my life. It was a time of profound change for me, an awakening of sorts. The emotions that came with it were good and bad, and before the first leaf fell from the trees in Autumn, I had filled and torn up the first journal. That journal was from a soul almost gone, that had come alive again. The journey from that place was a journey out of darkness, and one that I alone would write and read.

Still this journal proved very helpful, and I continued to journal, writing down thoughts on my journey into myself, day to day thoughts, comical misadventures and changes in myself along the way. I find it enjoyable to go back and read these, as they remind me of experiences and messages that I may have forgotten. They are comforting when I find myself filled with doubts, and also let me follow a path from where I have been, to where I am now. It’s amazing how little I knew about myself, and how much I have yet to learn.

My two newest blank journals sit quietly undisturbed, but for the few pages I’ve managed to write in one of them. Now, I think, is a good time to get back to them. Only in a private journal can you lose yourself so completely. It is a sanctuary for words, for things you may have forgotten, and things you need to remember. In this place you can put your hopes, dreams, fears and deepest emotions. What you may discover along the way, is that you have opened a window to your soul, allowing your spirit to fly free.