The word introspection is a gross understatement.
I have this habit of writing in various journals at once. Due to my love affair with paper and ink, I can never pass up bringing home a new empty book that speaks to me.
Yesterday, I picked up a journal I bought in Berlin – back around this time in 2011. I finished scribbling secrets about the amazing journey I’m about to embark on tomorrow and flipped back to the start where I was a few weeks out of my divorce, walking into the start of a rough few years.
Considering all I have ever done is written, I don’t know what it’s like not to record every emotion that comes in ink. I guess musicians feel the same way about playing their instrument, nothing compares.
Anyways, as I get ready to hop an ocean to Italy and visit l’amore della mia vita, I can honestly say – I’ve buried the past. First I festered in it, then I lit in on fire, and now, at last – I got over it.
When I go back and read page after page about how much I was hurting, it gets me back to focusing on opening a retreat someplace. Everyone needs somewhere to escape to when the going gets good. I was fortunate to hustle my way to New York City.
I’ll be even more fortunate when I hustle my way to Rome tomorrow…