A Blank Page: Embracing the Unknown
A blank piece of paper is always a mystery to me. Intriguing almost. I look at it and wonder, what will it hold? what will I write on it?
All great things in life- literature, scripture, architecture, started as a blank piece of paper. Limitless.
Writing is one of the ways I express myself with, if not the most prominent way. Now that I have officially lost track of how many journals I own, I realize now that everything I have ever written started as a blank piece of paper.
My Thoughts:
Even right now (as I write this) I see the rest of the page that follows. Blank. Empty. It’s a mixed feeling of anxiousness with excitement.
What will I write? Will it be good enough?
My mind begins to spiral the second I let anxiety take over.
Just moments ago the beauty of a blank piece of paper was all that was. But the second I let go and begin to write, there it goes away.
A blank piece of paper that is limitless. Where I chose what I want to write. How I will start. How I will finish.
It is up to me what words I choose, what sentences I will form.
The second I give in to the beauty of uncertainty, everything happens the way it is intended.
With trust, without worrying of what is to come. Writing right now and not thinking about what is already written or what is to be written.
Sometimes I wonder if the blank piece of paper is more. Because maybe the blank piece of paper is actually how we chose to live all along.
Writing is how we live and the blank piece of paper is our lives, meant to be filled.
The Journal Entries:
