Due date for the first journal entry today. Really need to get into the habit of writing in here more often, and not just for class
Elaborating here on the final memory (sounds ominous) from my previous entry. I lived in the town of Coupeville on Whidbey Island for some twenty-something years; most of my life. I developed a propensity for evening walks along a specific route some years ago, to cope with the stress a world issues class was causing me, if I remember correctly. I really liked that teacher, though.
Went out on this walk one evening about a year and a half (-ish?) ago. It was raining, and quiet; ideal conditions. Sitting on the bench in the park, staring at the gray sky through the trees above, I was suddenly overcome by an inexplicable clarity; a lucidity of thought. I sat for a long time, timidly beginning to accept things I’d been erstwhile ashamed of. By the time I got down to the Coupeville wharf (a customary stop on my walks), I was ecstatic with this unfamiliar, cosmic perception. I ambled around the docks late into the rainy night, laughing uncontrollably, chattering quite willfully to nobody (for that is who was present), and otherwise showing every known warning sign for the onset of dementia.
I was far from caring how crazy I must have seemed, though. Others’ perceptions of me, my perceptions of myself, and every disaster or accomplishment in my life seemed so blissfully, perfectly small; so distant and unreal. Nothing mattered and it was so beautiful!
I should note that I was not abusing any substances prior to this experience, nor did I receive any good news or even have an abnormally pleasant day. Part of why it is so strong in my memory is that it’s the happiest and freest I felt in many years and I have no idea why.
Nearly every walk I took after that night, I looked back upon [that night], wondering, questioning. This, I think, will be the starting point for my project this quarter.