Okay, my readers know that I journal daily. Too many of those days I gripe about having nothing worthwhile to write. As of today I vow to dig deep, no more wimpy diary stuff–I fed the cat, washed the car, mailed letters. Humbug. I made a random list of things I care about: family, genealogy, organizing my life, friends, writing (of course), music, food, money management, health (mine and others), government, fiction, climate/environment, poetry, equality. That’s the list for now and most of these themes have subsets of interest or concern.
I transferred the list to half-sized index cards and stashed them in a small transparent box on the table near my writing chair. (Remember organizing on my list?) And this morning I pulled a card: equality. And I wrote about my relationships with people who are not like me. And I found in the course of three pages that I fear rejection if I engage others who are not like me. I might not know what sort of interaction they would welcome. And in terms of those marginalized by economics, I fear poverty, the dependency and the deprivation of it. You would think that at my age, I’d have figured this out sooner. But that’s what true journaling does, catches insights like houseflies in a spider web.