Reflection

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the “happiness factor” – creating an active pursuit of doing the things which make me happy.  This has been a conscientious activity on my part.  One large element in this activity has been to simply write about things that interest me.  Approaching journalling this way, instead of my historical whining about things making me unhappy and trying to figure out how to fix them, is proving to be beneficial.  Add a few floor exercises in the morning as well, and life appears pretty darn nice.

I am not an especially intellectual person, nor am I spiritual or religious.  Put simply, I am nothing extraordinary.  What I am, though, is creative, and creativity for me involves working with my hands and with my mind and eyes.  Sitting at a computer to write provides some satisfaction, but more comes from thinking and using a fountain pen and a piece of paper.  I think pretty well with a pen and paper; here is something I wrote on 4/25 while drinking coffee and thinking about something I’d read about measurements:

4/25/2017 Tuesday

Today I read about measuring, and how measuring shows information.  Once there is information, change can follow.  And following the info can be some really ugly truths.  These ugly truths can also lead to more info, and more truths, and in turn, more changes.

Is change always good?  Who knows.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Today, I am thinking about the last few weeks, and I can say that I have a better sense of satisfaction in my own daily life.  I have felt alive rather than just in a suspended state of living, waiting for the weekend.

This has been brought about by writing every day about things I read or see or do – not what I am whining about.  This approach is the key – to move from the internal tumult to the external world and experiences, and then mull them over.

This conscientious effort has produced for me a measurably increased satisfaction and overall happiness.

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The Happiness Factor

Over the past several days I have returned to journaling.  (Of course, I am using my new pen!)  Instead of crying about my problems, wah-wah-wah, I decided to approach it differently.  I decided to write about my more intellectual and artistic ideas and pursuits, to set out plans for creativity, and to take action.  In and of itself, writing is a creative process that brings a level of satisfaction and contentment that just existing does not.

The “happiness factor” is a key element to life.  Being dissatisfied is a great motivator, but I think the “pursuit of happiness” is better.  Thus, analyzing what produces happiness for me has really been helpful.  My free time – time when I can actually think and do things – is not 7 days a week.  Because I have very long workdays, I can merely function half the week.  This means doing the things life requires, like working, and then coming home, eating dinner, going to bed and getting up to do it all over again.  However, there is a small window of time in the morning, and a small window after work, and using these productively does produce a sense of happiness.  What activities does this entail?

In the morning, I enjoy reading the news and looking through blogs as I drink my morning coffee.  Most mornings I spend writing for about 15 minutes, not whining, but thinking.  Sometimes I edit photos.  In the evening, I am lucky as dinner is on the table.  Some news, some reading, some socializing, some TV – whatever.

The “doing” is helpful.  Creativity.  Writing.  Thinking.  Planning.  I looked back over the past 5 days and analyzed my feelings, my sense of happiness, my sense of satisfaction, and by doing all these things, I realized I have felt happier over the last 5 days than I have for some time.  I have given purpose and meaning, conscientiously, to a rather tight existence.  Saturday, too, I have plans:  a first-time with a local meetup writing group.

Too many times we simply flutter day to day.  I do not want to live like that.  Mortality is for real, and I want to enjoy the time left on my road before it is gone.

The Power of the Pen

I love pens, particularly fountain pens, especially vintage ones. My collection is largish, but not like some people’s. Modern fountain pens seem just be made for making money, but every now and again a new pen hits the market that is worth considering. For me, I often turn to the Japanese companies of Namiki, Pilot, Sailor, and so on. I love the beauty of lacquer or abalone, the hand-ground gold nibs, but they cost so much! When the Vanishing Point came out, I liked it immediately, but it was too large to be comfortable. And then I came across the Decimo, a slimmer version of the VP, and bought one. In lavender or purple, whatever you want to call it, with a broad nib.

I’ve had the pen for one day.  I’ve used it a lot!  I have used it to copy quotes from my current read – Wuthering Heights – to doodle with, to practice cursive.  My checkbook has new entries in it, with a fountain pen.  Next week’s check-paid bills will be with a fountain pen.  Click!  Write.  Click!  Nib contained.

The physical act of writing is my form of meditation these days.  I write on paper with a pen.  I consider a word, then write.  Yes, I do have Scrivener, I have a Chrome book, and I have scrumptious paper that lets a nib glide across its surface.  I practice my roundhand, my Spencerian, my Palmer cursive.  Ascenders and descenders are considered for slope, looping, length.

Ink is also important.  I have bottles; some vintage, some just more than a few years old.  Colors range from trusty black to iron gall for dip pens to ones with exotic names like Poussiere de Lune.  New inks and extra converters are arriving on Monday.  More paper, too.  I can practice my penmanship and write a story or two.  Maybe I’ll write a friend a letter and seal it with wax, or write secret love letters to my husband and hide them, so he can find them years hence to open when I am gone.  Pen and ink dreams in a mechanized world.