Scribbling in the Margins

Lately I've been carrying around a journal full of half-thoughts.

Not sentences.

Fragments.

A word here.

A question there.

An arrow connecting two ideas that don't yet know they belong together.

For weeks, I kept thinking I should sit down and write.

Write about personal stuff.

Relational things.

Dreams.

Desires.

Not summer camp payment plans, organizational admin, or clever emails to clients.

(Yes, I write clever emails, too. Wordsmithing doesn't always arrive on command.)

Instead, I found myself scribbling about strategy - CEO stuff. Right brain thinking under my curly haired head. Mad creative smart redesigning of a website (still in draft), preparing a grant application, and getting ready for a major professional presentation that mattered more than I cared to admit.
I rocked it.
(Can I say that?)

On paper, those tasks seemed unrelated. Because they kinda were.

One about telling a story. The one I want to create. In the future. For me and mine.

The other was about strategy.

Systems.

Vision.

Deadlines.

The decidedly more linear side of my brain.

Or what I affectionately call my "triple fire" side.

I have plenty of that.

The trick, I've learned, is lighting things up without burning the house down.

Or so I thought.

Somewhere between choosing photographs, rewriting pages, re-articulating what The Homesteadista actually is, and presenting, I realized I wasn't inventing something.

I was recognizing it.

Or perhaps recognizing my own vision.

The process felt strangely familiar.

Like trying to write in a journal before the thoughts have learned how to become sentences.