My journal entry from a year ago, October 27, 2015:

Lately I've felt the need to experience life more- to go on more adventures, step out in the world, create stuff. I need more things to write about, more perspective. I need to fill the well. Right now I'm scraping the bottom, looking for water. It borders on pathetic. I need to get a life. I need new mountains to summit. New trails. More coastlines. More redwood tree canopies. More sunrises and sunsets. More books to give me a richer context and a broader vocabulary to describe the world.

I started journaling at an early age. My parents were cleaning out their house recently and stumbled upon my first journal. The simple words I recorded even at the tender age of five are still a true reflection of who I am- I love the outdoors and I don't mind long roadtrips to a beautiful destination.

After a long hiatus from journaling, and in essence, from confronting myself, I started again. I began consistently journaling almost two years ago after reading Julia Cameron's "The Artist's Way." Every day for the past two years I've kept morning pages- unedited pages of my 'first thoughts'-- these ranging from my daily to-do list, my fears, new ideas for projects, current relationship issues, to big dreams and deep desires. It began as a daily morning practice at a time in my life when I was in the middle of a dark forest and struggling to find the path back home. Back home to myself, really. My journal was a flashlight. It still is.

To see how a life unfolds in organic and unexpected ways is precious. To witness your own growth trajectory in real-time, in your own handwriting, is perhaps the greatest gift of all. Since writing this entry one year ago, I have summited mountains, run along new trails, broadened my appreciation of the California coastline, and buried my nose in beautiful writing. I don't ever think I'll be done, but I'm appreciating how much life can actually be experienced in one year.