Piles of saved loose notes, scraps of writing, ideas and plans were recently pulled out of the cupboard where I have been hoarding them for years. I spread them all over my office floor, trying to find some logical system; and then I tripped on them for few weeks. This week I finally had a chance to do a bit of organizing – and then put them all back in the cupboard, in a bit more orderly fashion, after discarding only a few inches of the six foot stack of papers.
It was a quick glimpse through my whole life. Journals from my 10 year old self, endless list of plans for the future – now the past. For years I have carried Moleskine notebooks in my purse and jotted down interesting observations or “twigs” about life. These are my considerings through the years as I plunged through each day. These are the tiny bits of my life that I took note of, thinking some day they could be used as materiel for writing.
It is hard to say what my notes could ever be used for. They served the purpose of calling attention to detail and articulating thoughts. They have strangly connected me to those around me, and to my inner thoughts. But a lifetime of notes doesn’t serve anyting in the present except for recording what has brought me to the point I’m at today. They provide a backdrop, but it is the noting, or writing, or creating of today that counts.