Blank Pages

I picked up a new mole skin today. I looked at it as I sat back into the car and thought about how this little book simply just does not have enough pages. Thinking back upon how quickly I filled my last journal I jumped to a thought of racking up millage for marathon training. Once you get past a certain number, the numbers don't really matter. It's about endurance. But what does it matter? Running or writing? There are not enough pages in this little black book. Looking towards the collections on my dresser of little books with words in them. Many, many words.

There will never be a little book big enough to hold all the words that bleed onto each page. These books are temporary. Just like this tent. Writing in this little black, soft covered, lined book seems so meaningless when you have such little room.
Isn't that the same as life though? We put ourselves into these edged boxes of criteria. But it's what we do with what we create inside of it. It's what bursts into life from just thoughts developing into plans that then become actions and then experiences.

These blank pages have plenty of potential... Let's get started.