When I was in college I’d spend my afternoons studying at the Big Moose Cafe, which was located on the ground floor of my dorm, Xavier Hall at Seattle University. With a double tall mocha at hand I’d read theology books and contemplate life. I always had a notepad with me and I’d write down ideas, poems, questions, etc.
These days I do most of my writing on the computer, pressing keys to get my newsletter article done, or to work on the church budget, or to wonder about moving to a new house in the city, or a bigger house with more land – a quiet, private retreat space – type, type, type. What I miss is writing. The feel of the pen moving across the paper. Feeling the weight of the paper. Drawing arrows from one idea to another, not in the order they tumbled out of me. Sometimes, the things I wrote would need to be reviewed, a day or two later, and new things written, ideas shaped in a new way due to a dream or insight. Just as I’ve struggled for years with having my calendar on the computer, I now struggle with wanting to carry around a notebook filled with life-affirming gibberish that feeds and nurtures my soul. ‘It’s too cumbersome to carry a paper calendar and a notebook,’ my inner critics cry, so, yet again, I try to do it all online. But I’ve finally realized that ‘online’ is not as soul satisfying as writing on paper and carrying it around. Be damned ye inner critics – I’m going to start writing again – on paper!