When I got the Pentagram 2008 Typography Calendar, I quickly realized that every month has to be torn off to expose the next. It seemed like a shame, because the pages are so beautiful - I didn't want to throw them away. I intended to use them as wrapping paper, but then I kept noticing them, slumped in a neglected pile, and I thought: well, I could write on them.
So I did.
They've since become a kind of visual diary, a way to sift back through the prior month and map out the events + highlights of my days and weeks. I'm not a very good artist, to my deep dismay, so they resemble the random doodles of a bored child, but I like them.
Writing on the calendar pages feels kind of like my Iyengar yoga practice. Iyengar yoga is about moving slowly and deliberately, hugging muscles to bones and sinking into each pose with care. It's about observing the subtle responses of the body and mind in every second. Watching as hamstrings start to scream in Utthita Parvakonasana; watching as forearms begin to ache in Urdhva Dhanurasana; noticing the way the eyes dart to the clock on the wall, and the mind asks: when will this be over?
Writing on the pages conjures that same sense of deliberation and attention, of placing a magnifying glass over moments in my very recent past. Of connecting more deeply with Here + Now, with this life, my life. Remembering a burst of laughter, or a shared confidence, or a fabulous cookie. Observing the way each hour spent with someone I care about is like a treasure; when
they're all drawn out, they're like gems threaded together on a chain
of days, and oh how they sparkle. Recognizing, over and over, how much goodness my life contains; how much abundance; how much beauty.
Noticing: happiness.
Here's a quote I'm writing on the April page:
Give up all other worlds except the one to which you belong. (David Whyte)
So.
Wise.
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Psst: read the rest of Whyte's gorgeous poem here.
