A Start

Well 1:00am and I am lying awake.
Again.
Things drift in and out my mind like debris on the ocean. Some pass by quickly, thoughts that are soon to be forgotten, but others slam into the surface, only to slide back and strike once more, pulled by the constant and occasionally cruel tide of my mind.

So where do I find refuge?

That's right all you intuitive readers (assuming that anyone would read anything written by me). I find refuge in the simplistic warmth of a mug a tea, a pen in my hand and a notebook on my lap. I know in these times it may seem trivial and barbaric to write things by hand, but there is comfort to be found in the gliding over the paper of a nice black pen, as the smell of the ink wafts up to my nose.

The only problem: What to write?

I figured I might as well start with this: Life is too short to not take any notice to it. We all have the moments, both good and bad that deserve to be remembered. Because our lives often pass us like towns on a highway: we barely even notice them until they've faded into the world of the rear-view-mirror. And not soon after do we ever remember that they were even there. But I say: Slow down, take a detour, because life is just too short to disregard all of the beautiful scenery God's placed on the way. So I'm going to take the time to record all I see, first in my little blue notebook, then here, so there is some sense of accountability.

The start. A mug, A pen, and A notebook. That's really all I need.