I decided to “scrapbook” Monday’s total solar eclipse in my journal, something I’ve oddly NEVER done before. No idea why. (Perhaps this is the dawn of a new journaling era?) I’ve only filled 18 or 19 volumes so what’s the rush?!
I printed a few shots from my phone on my [underused] Sprocket printer onto sticker paper so the whole process was quick and easy. (Except that I haven’t used the printer in so long that I forgot how to load the paper when I ran out. It’s simple. Turns out.)
I also used some “spacey” washi tape to add our eclipse glasses to the back of the page.
They’re a little lumpy to write over but I’m making it work.
Everything seemed to pause for just a little while that afternoon. We collectively exhaled, forgot our troubles, and gazed upwards. There was an odd stillness. The clouds messed things up just as we got to the best part of the show, but there was no manager to complain to, so we focused on the dramatic afternoon darkness instead.
I jotted down a few notes, thoughts, and observations from the unusual afternoon as soon as we got home. Didn’t take long at all. Lesson learned. No need to belabor everything.
Well, did they? I couldn’t tell.
I should do more of this quick “scrapbooking” in my journal. Certainly before 2079.
If I were you, I’d thinking, “What the heck does the dentist have to do with pens?!” Patience, my friend, patience.
It’s been Kaweco Sport fest around here lately with the addition of three new pens to my already healthy Kaweco collection—the Apricot Pearl (extra fine), the Pebble Blue acrylic Art Sport (medium), and the pen I’m writing about today—the Carmine Galen Leather exclusive which arrived Friday, all the way from Istanbul, Turkey.
Opening up packages from Galen Leather is like opening a gift from a friend—there are always little surprises tucked in with your order. Inside the blue cloth zippered pouch, I found a printed thank you note that tells the story of Galen Leather, a 10% off coupon, Turkish stickers, a postcard featuring a Rumi quote on the back, some Turkish tea, and a refreshing wipe. I was all smiles before I even took a look at the pen.
But I smiled even more when I opened the kraft paper tube holding the pen. What a sweet transparent bright red pen.
Despite being awash in inked pens, I could not resist filling this one. (What’s one more?!) After a bit of deliberation, I chose Sailor Jentle Grenade and syringe-filled an empty cartridge. Talk about a perfect match.
Right?
As lovely as the color is, I probably wouldn’t have ordered it just for that alone. This is where the dentist comes into play. (HUH?!?!)
Not the “have you been flossing?/every six months/plaque-scraping” dentist, but the Dentist NIB! Who knew there was such a thing?! When I saw that this pen was available with 16 (yes, 16!) different nib options—from various size italics and obliques to a couple of fude nibs—I was immediately reeled in. They had me. The Dentist (Soft Architect) nib called my name and I did not hesitate one second longer to buy the pen with this $20 option.
Galen Leather’s nibmeister, Meltem Hazarhun, took a double broad nib and ground it into a delightful writer that suits my handwriting perfectly. Galen Leather describes the Dentist nib like this: Reminiscent of the Architect nib, the Dentist nib stands out for its softer feel, providing a smoother writing experience with minimal feedback and reduced scratchiness. It’s excellent for everyday writing tasks. Thin on the down stroke and wide on the side stroke.
They are spot-on in that description. Ever since Friday, I’ve been madly journaling with it…
and writing letters with it. Any chance to use it, you know.
I love the style this grind adds to my handwriting with little to no effort. The nib is both smooth and crisp, with excellent flow—a truly delightful discovery.
Who knew that a dentist could be this much fun?! I didn’t, but I do now.
I stayed with my 91-year old mom the other night to help her recuperate from a tough oral surgery. While I was there, unsuccessfully trying to sleep in my dad’s old bedroom, I noticed his “Travels & Adventures” journal on the nightstand and tucked it away for future reading. I’m pretty sure that I gave this to him as a gift many many years ago, and was delighted to see that he’d actually used it.
Once home, after a few rough days with my mom, I settled into a comfortable chair and dove into his entries about their trip to St. Simon’s Island, GA in March and April 1997. The entries are so my dad—full of exact times—”Left at 4:09 P.M.”—odometer readings, directions, gas prices ($0.99/gallon), and mundane details. “At mall—got a new battery for my Citizen watch.”
There’s mention of numerous restaurants and whether they were good or not, but no details on what they ate. Challenges popped up as challenges do—a toothache, a dead car battery, a motel reservation snafu—but they seemed to navigate them without drama. Or if there was drama, it wasn’t recorded. That’s also very much my dad—cool, calm, and collected.
What was recorded in more detail is their visit to Plains, GA and Jimmy Carter’s church. Following the service, where the former President taught a lesson from the book of Luke, the Carters graciously took photos with congregants. This encounter remained a cherished memory for my (Republican) dad all his life.
My parents and the Carters in better days…
This slim travel journal did a magical thing—it brought my father back to life. I can see him as he was back then, cheerful and healthy, enjoying ice cream and coffee and walks on the beach with my mom. And seeing his handwriting, touching his handwriting, makes me feel like he is right here right now.
I always thought that I’d leave directions for my journals to be burned upon my death, but now I’m not so sure. Some probably should be, but others might be fun or comforting for someone else to read.
Through our journals, and our very particular handwriting, we’re still here, even after we get to the end of the trip.
“How can it be that I’ve never seen that lofty sky before? Oh, how happy I am to have found it at last. Yes! It’s all vanity, it’s all an illusion, everything except that infinite sky. There is nothing, nothing—that’s all there is.” —Andrei Bolkonsky, wounded (mortally?) in battle, War and Peace
Back in December, I stumbled upon the mention of a slow (as in year-long) read of Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace. I’m pretty sure it was on Katherine May’s Substack, and since I love all things Katherine May, I decided to check it out. The more I thought about, the more I felt like I wanted to participate. I do enjoy a good challenge, and this one seemed quite doable—one chapter a day for one year, with the occasional day off, all clearly scheduled and accompanied by a daily Substack chat for each chapter. But all those Russian names? And war?! Ick. Would this be a confusing snoozefest?
I’m now two and a half months in and haven’t missed a day. This is NOT a confusing snoozefest, and oddly enough, I’m enjoying the war chapters as much or more than the peace chapters. What a stunning book!! What a cool experience to read just one chapter a day, to slowly absorb the emotions and inner dialogue of each complex character. To find myself relating to an injured Russian soldier as he contemplates his own mortality, as he finds peace and meaning in nature and that “infinitely lofty” sky that Tolstoy draws our attention to in the midst of a literal and figurative battle.
Inspired by this incredible novel, I eyedroppered my Karas Kustoms Ultem Vertex with Montblanc’s long-discontinued Leo Tolstoy “Sky Blue” ink, a truly delightful pairing. The pen features a medium titanium Bock nib that is one of my favorites as the slightly flexible nib lays down a juicy line that allows the beauty of the ink to shine through—a gorgeous blue with a bit of sheen that appears as each word dries.
I’m finding so much joy in the slowness of all of this—both the reading and the journaling with this pen. There’s so much to savor in both. God, we are rushing all the time and it feels good to put aside the craziness of the world for even a little while. To take my time with each chapter, and also to enjoy the ritual of choosing a pen, filling it, waiting for the ink to flow, then filling up a journal word by word and line by line over days, weeks, and months. To simply be present. To notice the poetry and beauty in this novel and also, at times, on my own pages.
As much as I’m finding slowness to be a balm for life’s ills, I often wish that life came with a fast-forward button. I long to know how will this problem or that situation will turn out. Will a beloved friend or family member overcome their latest challenge? Will I? Navigating uncertainty is not my strong suit, but I do know that the days take their own sweet time and we are wise to do the same.
We’re here. In this moment. Taking things as they come. Or trying to, anyway. Settling down with our favorite stories, while also writing our own. Noticing small details. Capturing tiny delights. Watching the ink dry on the page. The shine appears, the color shifts, then the sheen reveals itself. We’re here, in our journals, trying to make sense of it all. Slowing down for just a little while. Eventually I’ll read the final word of War and Peace, and use the last drop of this Tolstoy “Sky Blue” ink, but for now I’m savoring both, and using them as an antidote for this frenetic world. When I’m reading and writing, all is well. I’m fine. We’re fine. In this moment, we’re all fine.
“Someone has put cries of birds on the air like jewels.” — Anne Carson
The book Birds Art Life opens with this quote. It’s a fantastic book, gifted to me by a friend a few years ago. In it, the weary and overwhelmed author, Kyo Maclear, finds escape and peace watching the urban birds in the busy city of Toronto. Her father’s health was declining just as my own father’s was. When I read the following paragraph, I felt so much less alone.
“Even though the worst of the crisis passed quickly, I was afraid to go off duty. I feared that if I looked away, I would not be prepared for the loss-to-come and it would flatten me. I had inherited from my father (a former war reporter/professional pessimist) the belief that an expectancy of the worst could provide in its own way a ring of protection. We followed the creed of preventative anxiety.“
I’m not really giving anything away when I tell you that birds rescued her. Nature has a way of rescuing us all, doesn’t it?
I’m no Kyo Maclear, but I do find myself both fascinated and comforted by birds. “Hope is the thing with feathers…” and all that. Every spring, I try to teach myself the neighborhood birdsong, with the Merlin app as my tutor, then forget what I’ve learned over winter. Except for the cardinals. I can always pick out a cardinal’s song.
When I’m too much in my own head (an off-switch, please!), I focus on the birds announcing the day in chatters and chirps and melodies. A real mood-lifter/shifter.
I very much enjoy feeding the birds.
And watching the birds.
And laughing with the birds.
And sharing birds with my friends.
Which is why I was wowed by the set of colored pencils the same friend sent me for my birthday last month. Holy crow! Birds on colored pencils! I’ve never seen such a thing!
But wait…there’s more!
Flip the pack over and there are…
TREES! My other happy place.
Another friend and I walk through the glens at work as often as we can. In that sanctuary of trees we’re able to decompress, laugh, and exhale. Tensions ease and we move into the afternoon feeling restored and relaxed. Someday, some of my ashes will be scattered in this sacred space that means so much to me.
(Well, that took a turn, didn’t it?!)
All this to say that I love these pencils, and they’ve inspired me to get back to drawing in my journal again, like I did a couple summers ago. Remember these little gems?
Maybe I’ll attempt to draw some birds. And trees. Stay tuned.
It’s been almost eight years since I started getting up early—4:30 on workdays, 7-ish on weekends—to pour a glass of homemade cold brew, snap on the desk light, and start writing. The sky is still as dark as my coffee and there’s a long day ahead, but I’ll always choose journaling over warm blankets and more sleep. There is that literal and metaphorical darkness to chase away.
I’m working on my 17th journal. At 480 pages each, that’s a hefty number of pages, but the only one that really matters is that day’s blank page. I start with the date and the weather and my Sleep Score from the Sleep Number app [Is it possible to achieve a 100 Sleep Score??] then launch into a dream recap with all of the technicolor angst my dreams are known for.
It kind of amazes me that I haven’t gotten sick of this. Not once.
There are days when I sit down with seemingly nothing to say, but once the ink flows, the thoughts do, too. As the ink shines and sheens, the pages fill up with memories, delights, humorous encounters, pep talks, frustrations, fears, and nonsense. There’s always something to explore, something to poke at. I keep scribbling as the sky slowly brightens. Aha moments bump right up against pure foolishness and become fast friends. All thoughts are welcome here. So much repetition—in eight years how could there not be?—but the page doesn’t care and is excellent at keeping its mouth shut.
Your secrets are safe here.
Every day. A jumble of words and thoughts and ideas and plans spill onto that page. Relief. Peace. Gratitude. Prayer.
And light. Even in the depths of winter, I can find the light if I just write long enough. Trust me. It’s there.
I did quite well (though not perfect) with my 2023 “No New Pens” challenge — that is, until December when the pen-buying floodgates suddenly burst wide open. Not unlike someone who’s come off of a strict diet and suddenly can’t stop eating cookies, I’ve had a strong craving for new pens which I’ve indulged. Recent additions include:
The Mineral White Kaweco Art Sport (my first acrylic Kaweco)
An f3 Pens Mystic Sucker Punch Serpent fountain pen (how could I resist a pen with that name?!)
The Creme and RoseGold TWSBI Eco (pretty!)
The TWSBI Kai (I have the Aurora and Draco so why not complete the set?)
A Tiger’s Eye Benu Talisman (only my 2nd Benu and 1st Talisman)
A few Retro 51s (Seigaiha Pen & Pencil Set, Day & Night)
AND a “Mystery Box” Karas Kustoms Vertex that arrived yesterday. Their Vertexes (Vertices?) usually run around $140 so when I saw the Mystery Box offer on their “Bottom Shelf” for $75, I couldn’t resist. The price was attractive but even more so was the “mystery” part of the purchase. I already own several Vertex pens in both acrylic and aluminum so I wondered if I’d simply end up with a repeat on my hands. What arrived is a pen composed of delightfully mismatched parts and I LOVE it.
The reddish/pinkish body, clashes wonderfully with the light green/dark blue mottled cap. The black grip bridges the color gap nicely. This morning I inked the pen with Noodler’s Cactus Fruit American Eel which kind of matches the body—and who cares if if doesn’t?
Cactus Fruit American Eel ink to the left of the pen.
This pen has a medium steel Bock nib and it’s a spot-on writer. No tweaking needed.
A bit of chatoyancy in the body.
I’ll shut off the pen-buying faucet soon, but really feel fine about indulging a bit. My rationalizations:
I’m popping in to say that I’ve been thinking a lot about my theme for 2024 — brainstorming on walks and on paper. What word excites me? What word feels full of possibility? What word keeps coming home to nest?
That word, it turns out, is “curiosity.” (Which is not spelled with a second “u” as I wrote in my journal this morning. Looked funny but I kept writing it that way, until I got CURIOUS and looked it up.)
I used a couple of pages in my journal this morning fleshing out what this means to me—how I’ll move through 2024 with curiosity as my North Star.
Here are those pages. I’ll just let them stand on their own.
I tend to be pretty willy-nilly with my pen and ink pairings—no real plan, no real theme. But in honor of Fountain Pen Day, rather than buying anything new, I simply cleaned out a bunch of pens for a much-needed reboot. Instead of simply filling or refilling pens with random inks, I decided to create a winter palette to embrace the slide towards winter.
Life has been a bit stressful of late, but this little evening project felt calming and meditative—a wonderful reprieve from the hamster wheel of hectic days and problems. I didn’t belabor my choices (how un-Mary-like!) but instead went with my gut and pretty quickly came up with the following six pen and ink pairings:
SBRE Brown is a caramelly brown, while Writing Desk is a darker brown with a hint of green sheen. Both shades of brown are well-represented in the woods and fields here in Central New York.
I chose Sailor Epinard for my green—dark and pine-like, while Wonder Pens Tuna Grey mirrors our skies of late.
Occasionally we see a patch of refreshingly blue sky break through the late-fall gloom that’s reminiscent of Sailor Sky High, my absolute favorite blue.
My dad was born in December 1928 and passed away in January 2022, so I think of and miss him even more in these dark wintry months. My mom, sister, and I believe that every cardinal sighting is a visit from him—a message that he’s now restored and eternally with us in spirit. Levenger’s Cardinal Red is a color that brightens the page and my heart.
There is, oddly enough, no urge to ink up any other pens. I’m gradually settling into the colder and darker season, and am enjoying the inner warmth that comes from writing letters to friends and journaling with this winter palette of colors.
There is beauty in the this seasonal darkness, both in nature and on the page.
From the Pen Cup 