Journals for Sale

I made this book in winter 2007, while living in a Native Skills community in the Wisconsin northwoods. I've been using it everyday, since. I wake up and write my dreams into this book. I reference the book for my daily schedule, to check my moon cycle, and to record my daily activities and musings. When I finish all of the pages, I just make a new little book of pages, remove the existing pages from the leather cover, then attach the new book into the leather cover. This book has traveled with me all over the USA and Asia. It probably knows the nature of my thoughts and emotions of the past 8 years more intimately than anyone else. I'm so grateful to have this book in my life, and have now created off-spring from its original design. If you would like to buy such an off-spring journal, then please message me through email or Facebook. They are for sale! I'll make you one (or more), if you so wish.

The leather cover changes cover over time, darkening with age, through continued handling. It turns a beautiful dark brown, like wood that is continually touched: there is a dark glossy sheen, and the feel of old memories worn in place. The new books are more lightly colored than my book (pictured above). You will get to create your own memories and establish your own relationship with that book, and watch it grow and change over time.

I include a little note in the book that welcomes you to your new journal friend, and has instructions for how to make refill pages. For those of you who don't know how to make books, or who are interested in my (super simple) book-making techniques, I included those instructions, below. Have fun!
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How to Make a 120-page Refill Book

1. Make 3 piles of 8.5 x 11 size paper, with 10 sheets in each pile.

2. Cut each pile in half, length-wise (You now have 6 piles of 8.5 x 5.5 size paper.)

3. Fold each pile of paper in half, width-wise. (You now have 6 little booklets of 4.25 x 5.5 size paper.)

4. Place the 6 booklets on top of each other, with the folded edges aligned. The combined folded edges is the book spine. Draw a line down the center of the book spine, and a line on either side of the center line, about one inch from the edge. This line delineates where you’ll bind the booklets together, into the book.

5. Cut a triangle, drill a hole, or directly poke a hole into the three points on each booklet.

6. Sew the books together. Using about a 1 foot length of strong string, start by inserting it through the central and top holes of your first booklet. Tie a knot outside of the booklet, leaving one end of the string about 3 inches long, and the rest as the long end.

7. Taking the long end of the string, thread it into the central hole of the next booklet. After pulling it all the way through the booklet, pass the string back out.

8. Pass the string through the corresponding hole in the next booklet, which should be the top hole. (Optional: loop it under the loop of the first booklet before entering the next hole, to pull it tighter first.)

9. Continue threading in and out of the booklet along the top and central holes of the booklets. When you get to the last booklet, continue this pattern along the bottom and central holes. (Make sure that you tighten the string after each booklet, and keep the string taut.)

10. Tie a knot when you eventually thread your way back to the beginning string.

11. Attach a different 5 inch piece of string to the top and bottom holes of your book. Your book is now ready to go into the book-cover.

12. Pass the three pieces of string attached to the book through your book-cover’s spine holes, then tie knots to bind them to the book.

13. Enjoy your new book! You can use this technique to make a new refill book each time you finish a book. Thus, this leather book-cover can last you a lifetime. 

A Sentence A Day (2014/ 08/ 26 - 2014/ 09/ 18)

I love the feeling of infinite possibility, like I can walk forever, and the wilderness opens to receive me, with endless new discoveries around every bend and minutiae. The canyon stretched before us like a twisted snake of mysterious bends, a richly rolling river, diverse plants, and gently towering cliffs looming above, topped by growling thunder and darkening clouds bearing life-giving rains. I love when I can skillfully ride my dosha like the bad-ass spirited human that I am, behind and through the dosha. I will return in one month; I know, I promise, I will. Sleeping under the stars in my mosquito net castle, serenaded by passing cars, crickets, and mosquitoes, I cuddle tighter into my wool blanket on my oak leaf bed, feeling at peace, at home, and completely embraced by the world. I am in love with his eyes, smile, being, and questions. The hitchhiking gods beamed upon me, yesterday. I love, love, love mountains, canyons, rivers, deserts, and ecstatic exploration. I’m letting go of preconceived notions and this chattering mind, and settling in, opening up. I’m not always this charismatic, but I’m having fun. I’m sleeping here for the final night, as clouds move across the full moon, and I question all that I think I know, and believe in. In five days, I’ve added so many things to my inner toolkit: heart-field expansion, inner child and inner infant work, inner vision council, and scanning awareness. There’s something I love so much about canyons that words just can’t describe. Walking away, I feel the heat of what I’m leaving, the tangible-visible-innate magic, mystery, and majesty of these labyrinth-like canyons, these echoing red rock cliff faces, and these ancient stones that say so much, with nary a word at all. Feeling my skin against his again is so much more delightful than just thinking about it. I am finding my internal middle ground, that perfect settling place of understanding that external perfection can only be found through an internal acceptance (and even enjoyment) of all things and life circumstances as perfectly imperfect. The individual stories either weave themselves into an elegant basket that breathes, flexible and supportive, or they create an impenetrable wall of protection that dulls sensory input and acts as a cage to the owner, and all they encounter. The Moon gracefully walked across the Sky, between the path created by the opening between the trees, beneath which we slumbered and dreamed delicious dreams. Everything that I thought I knew feels fake and empty, like I have nothing solid to return to, and nothing to look forward to, or live for. Although I feel a complete and utter desolation of my Spirit right now, I also feel glad to be on this farm with the morning cacophony of horny hungry geese, ducks, and chickens, and in the company of all these fruit trees, veggies, herbs, and my dear old friend that feels like the most inspiring and hilarious younger brother I’ve ever had. I want to know how to help someone--- how to help myself--- in those moments when the human Spirit loses all resolve, motivation, and excitement for life. This sunrise glinting through all the dewdrops that appeared overnight gives me hope.

San Gabriel Mountains, CA

Patagonia hills, AZ

Tonto Natural Bridges State Park, AZ

Purgatory Canyon, NM

September writing prompt: Plant connection

Walk into a natural area. It can be anywhere--- your garden, a favorite park, etc. Relax your mind and senses, and allow your instincts to carry you around in a small wandering walk. Eventually land yourself next to a plant. Just sit with the plant for a moment, then start writing stream of consciously. Note the sensory impressions of the plant: how does it look? Feel? Smell? Taste (if safe)? What surrounds the plant? What thoughts, memories, or ideas does the plant evoke? Keep writing until you have recorded all that you have noticed in the moment with this plant, and arising from this moment. 

A Sentence a Day (2014/ 07/ 17 - 2014/ 08/ 25)

Inspired by a friend's long-term journalling project of writing a sentence a day, I starting doing this on July 17, while in the Sierra Nevadas. A month and a half and several adventures later, I am still enjoying the project. I intend to continue writing a sentence a day, and plan to share these writings (as appropriate and comfortable to do so) each month. I enjoy the poetic nature of stringing all of these different sentences together, and how they provide a verbal collage of a life, my life. Enjoy. If you have interest, go ahead and try this project, as well. A sentence a day. Whatever you would like to write. Share, or not. Enjoy. 

~ 2014/ 07/ 17 - 2014/ 08/ 25 

Watching the river move the moss stuck against the stones, suddenly I notice myself removed from myself, then return again, even more present than before. I’m back at home, in the home where I grew up. The sun flows like a river down over the mountains and cacti, bringing a new day in with bird song. Packing and unpacking stuff perhaps takes up half my life’s activities. I hope that all my work is truly helpful. I’m back at my favorite place in the world: on a rock, in the middle of a stream, with dappling sun and shade, bird song, and a light breeze. Heath is multidimensional, as are people. Weight-sharing, connecting through the center, feeling the plumb-line, listening, giving and receiving... thus is contact improv, a relationship, all of Life. When I overeat, my belly protrudes from my body as if I’m pregnant, or wearing a basketball. I spend a lot of time packing and unpacking, preparing and planning, processing and digesting, reflecting. The wind blows cold awareness into my limbs. Stepping back, all the important little things suddenly look so trivial, compared with the countless stars and giant stones of this grandiose landscape. Walking up the moonlit path feels like walking towards the Temple of the Sky Gods. The pine arms reach across the brightening blue sky towards the neighboring mountains, with golden sunlight pouring down their steep gray scree fields. After eight years, today is a day where old dreams and goals finally come into fruition. Anger turns even the most magical, beautiful landscape a dull, ugly sheen. The rising sun illuminates all the stones that stand like sentinels, saluting the gracefully reaching pines, calling cows and birds, and wind that wraps itself into the deepest reaches of my very being. This morning’s sun reflects last night’s tears and blood. I’ve entered this new world with Opuntia wrightii gloccids in my mouth, hands, feet, and more. Fully moving into a place without fully knowing how long I will stay or what I will do feels familiarly like trusting the Universe, gambling with God, and surrendering to intuition, led by love. Life is filled with tiny details that coalesce together into a massive whole, that may or may not make sense, depending on the viewer’s perspective, and state of mind. With a straight yet flexible spine, my core is strong, and I stand up for myself and my beliefs. I feel exhausted most of the time. To know, to love, and to be completely present with are ideally simultaneous, but oftentimes separate. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I’m going somewhere right. I want to create something beautiful, useful, and long lasting today, and everyday. Unfulfilled creative potential feels like a growing bomb getting ready to explode within me. I’m about ready to implode, right now. The mosquitoes here are almost worse than in New England. Part of me loves going nonstop, and part of me just feels unrepairably tired. I live my life as art. It’s been a really good morning.