Originally posted on I Tried Being Tasteful...:
Recently I wrote about my brother-in-law receiving a “sign” from his wife on the day she passed away, letting him know she was safe and that he could move on with his life.
I’m a big believer in things like this, even though I’m not what you’d call a religious person. See my post “The Orthodox Agnostic” for the particulars. Even so, I do believe we are connected to the spirit world.
I used to do Tarot card readings by email years ago and had close to one hundred of them under my belt before I took down my shingle, not because I wasn’t helping people but because too many folks had become dependent on me for advice.
Originally posted on Living on the Edge of the Wild:
These are the last lines of a poem I wrote long ago.
But I realize now that’s what this blog is all about, a way of “pausing my hand on purpose,” and hoping to find you there.
Originally posted on Accidental Pen:
I have been thinking a lot about diaries – especially the old, hand-written ones. In our local news, there have been several recent articles about a Civil War diary that is being examined by local historians. It chronicles the daily life and struggles of a young Union soldier as he passed through this area. The story is fascinating, but for me it is even more remarkable to look at the images of those pages … his handwriting on the old paper, the scribbles in the margins, the entire personal image that is captured not only by his words transcribed, but by the physical pages themselves.
It made me contemplate my own journaling and diary-keeping. The mark of my pen, the paper and the books I choose to write in, the ink, my penmanship. While I know there are many distinct advantages to maintaining a digital record – and there are a variety of digital diary applications available (Day One being my favorite, and one that I sometimes use), not to mention blogging, etc. – none of it compares to an individual’s handwriting on paper. Call me sentimental, I guess.