I wrote this?

I write stuff everywhere. I have notes on the back of business cards, trash mail, book covers, spread throughout 8 different journals and notebooks and yes I will write stuff on my hands.

I am not organized at all. The things I jot down are in drawers, under the bed, down the side of the bed, in my purse, glove compartment box and wherever you may feel the need to look for something when you can't find it. 

This would drive most people nuts. If I put too much thought on this, I can start to feel insecure about this habit.

I don't really have an attachment to what I'm writing so I guess that is why it just lands where it may. 

The things I write kind of turn into buried treasure as is the case for the poem I put below. I come across things all of the time, like little bursts of memory, inspiration and love, from myself. I actually read this today not knowing for sure that I had written it. It spoke so deeply to me. 

I love that we can tell ourselves exactly what we need to hear in the most perfect ways. I love that something I wrote a long time ago, was really for me to read today.

Today is all I have.

Today is where I am.

To let go would be a compromise
between myself and the day I now inhabit.

To let be what was will only allow
me to stay my path.

To let be that I am messy
and have piles of time
and paper that do not serve my heart.

To let be that my pockets are bare
and that what I once knew
yesterday, is my only validation
of a way to fill them.

To let be my heart
and to keep it full
in the beauty of today
and the unknowing of tomorrow.

To let be thoughts of self doubt,
harbored fear of failure
and abilities of my body.

My body is strong today.
My heart is so full today.
My joy is here today.

I am all but today.