Ernest Hemingway’s advice to would be writers: always stop when you know what’s going to happen next.


The Last Page


I just finished a journal. It contains all my musings, hopes, dreams, inspiration and heartbreak from January, 2018 – today. Fellow journal keepers, do you know that empty feeling when you write on the very last line? Do you feel that satisfied, accomplished, air of completion, yet a feeling of loss upon punctuating your final sentence?

In today’s entry I wrote about someday wearing my heart on my sleeve, sharing my every day musings with the world in hopes that they might help someone, or at least provide some entertainment. So why not start now?

Tuesday, September 4, 2018 

People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for.

-To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee

I couldn’t fall asleep last night. I was thinking about all the things I don’t know. All the things I don’t understand. All the things I’ll never know. I felt small. A minnow in a great lake. A speck of sand in the sea. I thought of things I’ll never do.

But then I returned to what I still have time to learn, and all I wanted to do was get up and read. Read, learn, question, all the things I don’t know. From how to change a tire to how to help my country move away from Trumps voice of hate toward peace, unity, and equality for everyone.

At last I closed my eyes and counted my breath. I am grateful for the knowledge I have, for my family, for my health, for my life. Today is a new day. All I can do is keep going, one step at a time. Eat the elephant of knowledge one bite of a time.


I am always sad when I arrive at the last page of a journal. Yet also accomplished. I think of when I’m old and tired, reminiscing upon the good old days, how I’ll look back at my light hearted musings and favorite quotes. I think of how one day maybe I’ll grow some balls and put the content of my journals on a blog, so others might relate to my quickly scrawled thoughts. I think of how many hours I spent reflecting upon my days in this crazy world, and I long to honestly call myself a writer.

I thank each page of every journal I’ve kept for listening, and for holding my secrets in its binding. I thank the tree its pages came from for giving me my most cherished outlet. For falling from the forest so I may scribe upon its heart, melting my mind into its branches.

I thank everyone who has given me happy memories to record, and everyone who has taught me lessons for the future, good or bad. I thank the books I’ve read, the quotes I’ve found, the beautiful places I have walked.

And I look forward to my future adventures. A new book of empty pages waiting to be filled. Thank you, little book. You are loved ❤

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a common place thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars…

– Jack Kerouac

“Each of us feels some aspect of the world’s suffering acutely. And we must pay attention. We must act. This little corner of the world is ours to transform. This little corner of the world is ours to save.”

Stephen Cope, from The Great Work of Your Life

“If you can concentrate always on the present, you’ll be a happy man… life will be a party for you, a grand festival, because life is the moment we’re living right now.”

The Alchemist