Between Christmas and NewYear’ Eve I have a reading ritual of holding an inspection of this year’s journal in which I’ve recorded (by hand) my princely deeds and goings-on. I’ve been writing diaries since high school days; they contain my events and inner-thoughts. I remember as a boy rolling my eyes disbelief at Father, who could not remember what we had done the year before; I now have this problem and then some. Indeed, I grow more dependent on my scribblings to remind me what and when I did things. They are blessed references to settle questions like which year was it we went to Wisconsin to see The Best Friend or what was the name of the bar in Hawaii we thought rather fun. Journaling used to be my channel in which to compose and record my thoughts, fears, joys and sorrows. Over the years they show less of these types of entries, probably because my creative juices are squeezed into blogging rather.

Journal 2014 sits before me, a leather bound booklet closed by a virescent clasp. The journals vary in the size, shape, and colour; there is not one repeat in the bunch. Some are spiral-bound; some are handcrafted.

While I reading and recollect, I will write a summary page with the ‘highlights’ on the back cover, for quick-referencing if ever I should the need arise.

I thought of writing this blog-entry afterward, to include some spo-reflections on the contents. However, I know from experience my feelings will be along the line of astonishment at things forgotten, and regret over things unaccomplished. I will have some ‘how dull’ emotions over the many mundane entries of “I worked, I exercised, I am trying to lose weight, I walked the dog’.  Mostly I will end with the warm satisfaction I had a better year than I recall and all is well enough.  It will inspire me to make new goals, improve myself and hope 2015 is my best year yet.

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