We wandered into a very neat and tidy little independent bookshop on Granville Island in Vancouver and there was a table covered with classic books. Except, when I picked up one of the books and flipped it open, I discovered a blank page. All of the pages were blank and I knew that I had to have one of these journals disguised as books. I chose a blank copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. It has been sitting on my desk ever since our return. That’s not unusual. I often buy a new notebook and then wait for a while before I start writing in the thing. I find the new, clean pages of a notebook to be the most soothing aspect of owning it. I am always hesitant to put ink or pencil lead on any of the pages for fear of messing up the beauty of the page.

Of course, after all this time I never thought of flipping that way of thinking. Instead of messing up the page, I could be adding to the beauty of the page.

I’ve been focusing on where I feel the words ‘yes’ and ‘no’ when I say them out loud and when I came across this particular journal, my heart leapt with a resounding yes. I had no idea what I would do with it, nor did I have a need for the book. I just knew I wanted it. I do recognize that I am beginning to fall into a recognizable habit of owning journals that never get filled up. I have a stack of notebooks in my cedar chest that only have writing on the first four or five pages, leaving the rest of the books blank. They are Chris’s notebooks. I never go in and read them, but I will never throw them away. Now I have become the person with multiple journals floating around the house. This one contains a story idea. That one is more than half full of yoga classes I prepared for teaching. Let’s not forget the mostly full Fortune Cookie notebook. That one, right now, is the winner. Not only is it only twenty or so pages away from being filled, it is filled with inspiration. Part of returning to our regularly scheduled program around here, includes me getting back into the Fortune Cookie notebook.

I sat down with that notebook on Saturday morning for the first time in a long time, and I didn’t know how to even begin. Then, just as the story really got good to me, I ran out of room on the page. There is a very disciplined side of me that almost refuses to even place a dot of ink in the new journal before I finish the Fortune Cookie notebook. But I have a packet of fine tipped colored markers setting on top of the Wonderland journal and a clear image in my head of drawing fanciful mushrooms and intricate flowers and maybe filling this one up with something other than words.

I am not an artist.

I am an artist.

Cindy’s Adventures in Learning to Be. That’s the true title of this book.