It was cold for sailing yesterday, with a high of 48 ℉, but the wind was perfect. It was a steady Force 3 (or maybe Force 4?) breeze, and we knew it would likely be our last chance to sail for the season. We waited until afternoon to catch the warmest part of the day and to give the sky a chance to clear of its low, grey clouds. At 4:15pm we were headed out onto the water while the only other boat on the lake was going in.
One other sailboat on the lake, heading in as we were heading out
Running with the wind
The sail was glorious. The wind was the perfect strength to move our little boat near her top speed, and we sailed every point of sail. We ran with the wind behind us, where the water gurgles and and makes pliant sounds because we’re moving with it. We beat into the wind, where the water slaps and makes hard smacking sounds because we’re moving against it. And we sailed back and forth across the lake on a reach, the fastest point of sail, where the water makes fast rattling sounds, where the wind blew my hair from my face, and where we moved so fast we made our own little wake while under sail.
Moving fast under sail
Recent wind stripped the trees of leaves, so most of the fall color is already done. The light itself was beautiful, though. We dropped the jib upwind of the ramp, and took one more trip back and forth across the lake as the sun dropped. Halfway across, I started shivering, and I didn’t stop until we were in the car with the heat on. I’m going to have to figure out a better glove situation for cool weather sailing; my hands are useless when they’re cold and numb. But look at the light!
Golden October light just before the sun dropped
When we got out of the car at home, I started shivering again, despite wool socks and leggings under my pants, and a tank top, long sleeved shirt, fleece, light down jacket, and wool hat up top. Brian warmed tomato soup while I changed into different fleece layers, and only after the soup and a grilled cheese did I stop shivering. Just to be on the safe side, though, and because I started reading Jane Eyre yesterday and wanted to cozy up with some tea and my book next to a warm hearth, I built a fire while Brian played guitar. I lay next to it and read, warm and cozy after a gorgeous day in the wind.
When our daughter is at her evening swim practice, I drop her off then drive over to a nearby trail, the Huckleberry, where I pop my headphones on and either go for a run or a walk. It used to be that I could go for an hour walk, then drive over to the aquatic center and sit in the parking lot in daylight all the way until practice was over.
Now, the sun sets before 6:30, and I’m lucky if I can get a 30 minute walk in. Next week, after the time changes this weekend, the sun will have already set when I drop our daughter off.
Last night was my final evening walk on the Huckleberry, and it was a spectacular one. The clouds pinked at sunset, and starlings flew in morphing clouds in the cool autumn air.
A hurricane blew through yesterday, or the remnants of one. Zeta. So many named storms this year we’re into the Greek alphabet as well.
It rained all night and all morning. In the afternoon the rain stopped and the wind blew. Not too bad — maybe 20-30 miles per hour for a couple of hours in the late afternoon. Garden plants whipped and bent, trees swayed, and leaves broke free to soar out of our yard and out of sight.
Then the stratus clouds cleared, and compact cumulus clouds popped grey against a blue sky. I made salmon and salad and risotto for dinner, and afterward, after the sun had set and the moon had risen, my husband and I went for a walk around the neighborhood.
A couple of small elongated clouds hung in the dark sky. The clouds were lined in silver-white, backlit by the glowing moon. The sky was midnight blue, and stars twinkled overhead. Bright moonlight cast dark shadows on the silvery-blue street and cast eerie light on tombstones, skeletons, spiderwebs that stretch between trees, and witches stirring a cauldron.
Do you know what you want most, deep down in your truest self? Something you’ve desired all of your life, that’s part of who you are as a person? I don’t.
When I see encouragement to Follow your dreams!, Align your actions with your values!, or to Honor your true desire! rather than staying safe but stagnant, my first thought is, “Gah! I don’t know what my dreams are!”
I don’t know what my true, deepest desire is. Is it to be loved? To be liked? For my kids and the people I love to be happy? Is it to travel? To live near the ocean? Any of those alone doesn’t seem like enough. To be loved or liked or for my loved ones to be happy — all of those are outside of my control, so it seems futile for any those to be my deepest desire. If my true desire is to travel or live by the ocean, why? What is it that I want from those these things?
With travel, I seek new experiences, new scenery, new people to observe. I seek input and learning and expansion so that I’m not contained in my own bubble with limited perspective and understanding. I think I value those things because I seek connection with humanity and the world around us. With my desire to live near the ocean, I think that’s also because I seek connection, but with nature and spirituality. I want to tap into the forces of of the universe, and I feel those best when I’m by the salty sea.
I wonder if this means that feeling a connection is a deep driver for me: connection with both humanity and a higher force that’s bigger than all of us.
When I look at what I do with my free time, this tracks. I read and have always read. I like to read for similar reasons to why I like to travel. I don’t just read for entertainment, thought that’s definitely part of it. I mostly read because I’m fascinated by the millions of experiences of being human. I read to see through someone else’s eyes, to gain perspectives beyond my own. Again, I am drawn the bigness of the human experience, and the world, and the universe. We have an infinite future and a deeper history than I’ll ever be able to compass. But I do want to be a part of it.
I desire connection, this I see. This is good, because connection doesn’t have to be put off until I retire. But I don’t know if that’s my true desire, if it’s my dream. If connection is my true desire, I still don’t know the deepest why, I don’t know why I want to be connected to something bigger than me. Is it because I don’t want to feel alone? Is it because I desire to share goodness and love and empathy with others? Is it just because it feels good to feel connected? Maybe it’s the latter, and deep down I’m just a hedonist.
My lunchtime reading this week has been excellent. Monday I devoured Little Fires Everywhere. SO GOOD. Today, I’m revisiting The Weird Sisters, the book my blog’s name came from, and a book I reread every few years because it’s just so fun.
The problem with lunchtime reading, though, is that it makes it hard to go back to work.
I can’t believe that in more than 35 years of journaling with pen and ink, I never used a fountain pen. For 35 years, I wrote without experiencing the fluid feel of wet ink on quality paper. I did not know the joy of the tactile differences among nibs, barrels, inks, and paper.
My husband gave me two fountain pens for Christmas in 2019 — a LAMY Safari and a Pilot Metropolitan — two models that in his research he discovered were good gateway entry pens into the fountain pen world.
I fell in love with them both: the LAMY Safari for its inky flow and light weight, the Pilot Metropolitan for its precision and solid heft. I found every excuse to write just so I could feel words flow through these beautiful instruments.
I used ink cartridges in the beginning; I was intimidated by bottled ink. But as I browsed for ink cartridges on the Goulet Pens site where Brian had bought my original models, I was seduced by all the inks. Pumpkin orange! Cactus fruit pink! Caribbean blue, Amazonite green, Navajo turquoise, poppy red!
My writing world exploded. I can’t believe I went so much of my life using only blue or black ink!
Now instead of two pens that are limited to the colors that ink cartridges come in, I have six pens, each with a different barrel feel or ink flow, a different weight or texture in my hand. I love the TWSBI Ecos for the flowy nibs and because I can see the ink in the clear barrel (the white one was gorgeous when it was full of Navajo turquoise ink). I love the Lamy because it sits perfectly on my fingers and it’s fast; I can write almost as fast as I think with the LAMY. The Pilots help me write neatly, and I like their superfine points. They make sharp, clean lines, and I love the heavy metallic weight of of them. They feel classy.
From left: two TWSBI Ecos, LAMY Safari, three Pilot Metropolitans
It didn’t take long after I started writing with fountain pens, and especially with different kinds of ink, to realize that paper makes a huge difference in what a pen and ink feel like. I was disappointed to discover that my previous favorite notebooks, Moleskines, are not fountain pen friendly. Ink bleeds through the paper, making the pages messy and rendering every sheet one-sided, and it doesn’t feel good to watch the ink bleed through.
I’ve since tried a few different kinds of notebook, and have yet to find the perfect one. Clairefontaine paper is buttery smooth and is wonderful for the inkier TWSBI and LAMY pens — it flows so smoothly! — and I love the large A4 paper size (~8″x12″). However, the paper is also bright white, almost too white, and the Pilot Metropolitan nibs feel scratchy on it, like they’re too sharp for the paper. Still, I love the Clairefontaine A4 notebook for journaling and prompted free-writes; one page is the perfect size for a day’s journal entry or a single 10-minute write. Plus, given the amount of paper I go through, the Clairefontaine is the more economical choice at $14 for 192 pages (7¢ per page).
The lighting was super low, so this isn’t a great photo and the ink looks bleedier than it actually is, but this is the Clairfontaine lined paper
I alternate between the Clairfontaine A4 and the Leuchtturm1917 B5 composition notebook for journaling and prompted free writes. The pages of the Leuchtturm1917 are smaller (~7″ x 10″), but so is the line spacing — 7mm between lines instead of the 8mm of the Clairefontaine — so a single page of the Leuchtturm1917 can also hold one day’s journal entry or a single 10-minute free write.
The Leuchtturm1917 composition notebook is pricer at $24 for 121 pages (20¢ per page), but I like the Leuchtturm paper better because it’s got a tiny bit of tooth, meaning it’s not so buttery smooth. It gives me a smidge more traction when I’m writing, which means my handwriting feels more controlled. The paper is also ivory instead of bright white, which is much more soothing on my eyes, and the Pilot Metropolitans feel like they were made to go with this paper. I use a smaller journal sized A5 Leuchtturm1917 for my well-being journal that I write in every day.
Again, the lighting was terrible, and post-processing of the photo makes the ink look bleedier than it actually is. The edges are crisp in real life. This is the Leuchtturm1917 A5 dot grid notebook.
My favorite paper, though is Miliko. It feels wonderful with all of my pens, with just the right amount of smoothness and tooth, and the paper color is a soft ivory. The only problem is that the bound notebooks I like only come in the small A5 size (~5″ x 8″). I use a spiral, hard cover Miliko notebook for my book journal and a softcover notebook to savor small moments.
Miliko softcover notebook. Same disclaimer with the light; the sun was setting and the light was too low.
I currently keep four different journals — one to log books I read, one to savor small moments, one for my well-being journal, and one for my daily writes. I think the reason I keep so many is so I have multiple opportunities to play with my pens, inks, and paper. I make up excuses to write just so I can see the pretty ink flow.
Butterfly Mind 