Recently, I revived my practice of spiritual journaling. Why? Because . . .
Because it reminds me to be still.
Because it brings me closer to the Sacred.
Because my meditation practice isn’t working very well these days.
Because it focuses my thoughts.
Because it helps me forget that it’s raining.
Because it boosts my creativity.
Because it clears my head, which is often full of crap and noise and charging rhinos and evil, screaming babies.
Because it makes my heart feel soft.
Because writing is everything.
Because I can do it almost any time, anywhere. Except while driving. Or sleeping. Maybe I could do it in my sleep. (Note to self: Try journaling in my sleep.)
Because it is liberating.
Because it is fun.
Because it is joyful.
Because it allows me to tell my story, to weave a story out of the detritus of my day, to make meaning of the story, to sing that story onto to page, to breathe my story onto the page.
Because I am a writer.
Because writing is everything. Writing is everything.