I’ve taken to collecting flowers, leaves, sprigs of whatnots for my morning journal. Sometimes I glue or stitch them to the page, other times I outline them or make a rubbing. It’s been fun and meditative. Keeps my mind trained on the present during morning walks, it’s been a creative exercise on how to incorporate into my written journal and how it’s livened up the page. (My fav, so far, is a single ginkgo leaf glued to the middle of the page. It also becomes fun to look at after I’ve written around the glued leaves or over the rubbings. At some point, it’ll be a seasonal recording, too.)

But this morning, as I went on a rubbing spree w/ evergreens (they release deep aromas when rubbed) and other leaves, this time overlaying rubs (under the page) and outlines, on top, I wondered how a soul and all that it’s collected during a lifetime might look if rubbed. Even after the objects are gone, the rubbings — a sort of phantom ghost of what once was — remains.



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