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Writer's pictureJoke De Roeck

Always celebrate yourself


Last week, I received an email from my favourite English bookshop in Brussels: The book you ordered, has arrived! Yay! My bike flew me downtown and I soon settled in the cosy corner of a coffee bar with a croissant and my fresh new book. The title is as boring as the design: Finding Water. It’s the third book in The Artist’s Way series and for the third September in a row, I feel the need to start writing more than ever.

As if my brain had been on a holiday and pens and paper need a dust-off, I embarked on a journey of morning pages, artist dates and long walks. Rising earlier than early to write three pages before my mind is even fully awake. Taking myself out on dates, to woo the artist within. Take extended strolls to open my eyes and mind for inspiration. These three things are the basic tools Julia Cameron relies upon for a creative life. I don’t mind at all.

As I ordered the book, I met this boy, and hell it’s true what they say. Happiness does write blank pages. Only until I received three love letters in my mailbox, I realised I lost track of time and decided I shall write again! Happy or not! Madly in love or not! So I dusted off my writing tools and put pen to paper. “Ah, I missed this”, I thought. It’s definitely a good feeling to know I can always come home to the page. When I feel like celebrating life, or when all I want to do is hide under a blanket.

I lit candles, put on an Ella Fitzgerald record, made a pot of tea and went through my entire stash of first aid chocolates to get in the mood. “In the mood for what?” You may ask. For love, baby! If this isn’t a fabulously romantic date, I don’t know what is. I slowly opened my love letters from Slovenia, Germany and France and dove into the stories my friends wrote me. How sweet it is to travel by reading words written in faraway lands. Body in Brussels, heart all over the place. The last letter I read ended with three sweet pieces of advice: Be good. Live life. Always celebrate yourself.

And in my cocoon of pen, paper and chocolates, I celebrated myself.

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