making perfect letters

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had a thing for handwriting.

I used to change my handwriting constantly. I’d pore through books and old writing practice texts, looking for all the different ways I could print an a or a g or a cursive r. I changed my handwriting almost monthly, and redesign my signature damned near yearly. I’m sure there’s something Freudian about this obsession, but I figure there are worst things to be addicted to.

So here’s a confession: I still play with letters all the time. I spend hours each night, practicing writing phrases or sentence or copying favourite quotes in my journals. I add paints, and sometimes I colourfully doodle.

Just me?

I’ve made pacts with myself countless times that I’ll start meditating in a more traditional way. And really, I should. But also? The time with my journal, making my letters just so, feels like meditation to me. So I figure it kind of counts.

Anyway. My wish for all of us this week is that we all make time to meditate, whether it’s a mantra, or a crochet needle, or a whittling knife, or a journal and coloured markers, making the perfect b.

The way I figure it, it all counts.

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