times, scribes were devotees of the Word. They were the
bridges between worlds, charged with the sacred task of
painstakingly transcribing the Mysteries into a form
that could be referenced by holy men and women. Many
centuries later, our modern journals give us unlimited
access to the Mysteries of our souls. Through this
column, I hope to offer ways that we can approach our
own lives with the love and devotion of the scribes of
Journal of a Synchronicity
June 5, 2001
Today as I was rooting around in the
closet the "Time 2 Move" sweatshirt fell on my
head. It always gives me pause when it surfaces; for a
dozen years it has been the harbinger of change. It
disappears for years at a time and then shows up when Iím
ready for a major life event. I put it on and sat on the
edge of the bed, musing about the changes it has
I have wondered for a while if it is
"time 2 move" from this apartment where Iíve
lived happily and contentedly for a dozen years. Maybe Iím
finally ready to be a homeowner again.
Had brunch with M and L today. I
mentioned my restlessness and desire to buy a place.
Hearing myself say it out loud made it more tangible and
real. They were enthusiastic and supportive.
As I was tossing away my junk mail I
noticed a real estate ad with a townhouse listed by C,
who I saw at the high school reunion last summer. It
reminded me that I had spoken with her briefly a year
ago about the possibility of buying something. At the
time it seemed too overwhelming Ė prices just seemed
out of reach. Now, of course, theyíre even higher.
I drove by the townhouse and itís in
a great location. Looks very much like the last place I
owned, which I loved. Called C to ask for a showing. Itís
under contract. She told me to get prequalified for a
loan. I discovered realtor.com, which lets me do my own
market research and gives addresses I can drive by. I
also filled out a loan application on line. The fact
that Iím self-employed apparently will make it more
Have been consumed with looking at the
outsides of places and am rapidly educating myself on
what is and is not acceptable. There is some
unbelievable crap selling for ridiculous prices. One
townhouse has a master bedroom balcony that overlooks
railroad tracks no more than 20 feet away. I know these
tracks; six or eight freight trains a day go through.
Charming. Many townhouse complexes are built around
acres of asphalt parking lots. I looked at a place that
had beautiful grounds and a "detached" garage
Ė extremely detached, about 100 yards down a
significant hill. I can just imagine how much fun that
would be in the winter! Anything I buy would have to
have covered parking and trees. I canít bear the
thought of living in the midst of an asphalt and
Leave for the womenís retreat
tomorrow. [Poetry therapy intern] J ran writing group
this afternoon. She closed with an ee cummings poem
which she recited from memory, the one about the leaping
greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky. I
love the way she recites, so compelling and dramatic. It
makes me want to drop everything and memorize poems.
Day of Silence at womenís retreat. I
am so in love with the trees here at Benet Pines. The
weather has been exquisite, a blue true dream of sky.
Found the ee cummings poem on the internet and broke
silence this evening by reading it into the circle.
i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any ó lifted from the no
of all nothing ó human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
I find myself saying the cummings poem
over and over in my head. I wake up every morning and my
first conscious thought is i who have died am alive
again today. This poem is living in my body. I am
eating it. I know this process. Like the Time 2 Move
sweatshirt, this is a harbinger of change. Poetic magic
Looked at a darling townhouse in
perfect condition, but claustrophobically small and
woefully expensive. First time Iíve actually connected
with a realtor through this process. Iím the first one
to see this place. She assured me it will not be on the
market more than a week and encouraged me to act swiftly
if I want it. I told her Iím leaving town tomorrow and
am probably not a candidate. Not sure I could qualify
for a loan that size. Nor would want a mortgage payment
Back from teaching at the poetry
therapy intensive. I canít shake the cummings poem. Iím
making it Augustís Poem of the Month at
Woke up this morning with the cummings
poem in my head and the brilliant awareness that maybe Iím
looking in the wrong zip codes. Checked out the
neighborhoods a bit south, between where I am now and
the office, and sure enough, it looks like thereís a
Today I connected with a lawyer who is
selling his condo himself, and it is affordable, and it
has all the things I absolutely positively can't live
without Ė especially trees! Mature trees, gorgeous
trees, leaping greenly spirits of trees, old-growth
trees, beautiful grounds, a front porch, my own garden
area, covered parking, good location halfway between my
family and my office, possibility for community
with neighbors, quiet neighborhood, a good gym nearby,
across the street from Crown Hill Lake and the wetlands
preserve, a neighborhood grocer on the corner. And the
leaping greenly spirits of trees! Oh those trees Ö.
they call to me.
Walking through the breezeway into the
interior of the complex is like being transported to Oz.
It goes from a pleasant but utterly nondescript exterior
to a magical fairyland of forest-in-the-city. Flowers,
shrubs, trees, trees, trees.
Well, I have spent practically the
entire day bonding with my new condo, checking out the
leaping greenly spirits of trees and especially sneaking
peeks at the individual gardens. There are some
ferocious gardeners there -- the whole place has this
rampant, overgrown, fertile, fecund, wildly creative
feeling to it. There are hardwood trees mixed in
with the pines and aspen, so fall should be glorious. I
who have died am alive again today!
I bought it. Earnest money, contract,
loan approval, whole enchilada.
The closing is at noon today. I am a
homeowner! Thank you ee cummings for reaching out across
time and space to land in me a poem that guided me to my
own true home. It is Time 2 Move!
Kathleen Adams. All Rights Reserved
Kathleen Adams LPC, RPT is a
Registered Poetry/Journal Therapist and Director of The
Center for Journal Therapy in Lakewood, Colorado. She is
one of the leading voices on the power of writing to
heal and is the author of four books, including Journal
to the Self and The Write Way to Wellness.
Her upcoming seminars include the annual 5-day womenís
writing retreat in Colorado July 8-13, and a one-day
Journal to the Self workshop in Denver in late July. She
would love your feedback on this column; please e-mail email@example.com
or stop by her website, www.journaltherapy.com.
Kathleen's Past "Scribing the Soul" Columns:
2001 "Rituals for Soulful Writing"
Bakerís Dozen Ways to Journal Your Dreams"
2001 "Journals to Go"
2001 "Healing Words, Healing Touch: Jihan's Letters"
2001 "Love Letters"
the Authentic Self"
2000 "Riding the Inky Wave"
2000 "The Good News"
2000 "Soul Food: Exploring Affirmations in
2000 "Diary of a Headache"
2000 "Making Up the Truth"
2000 "Pockets of Joy"
2000 "Five Ways to Scribe Your Intuition"
Kathleen's Feature Article on Dream Journals:
in the Dark: Cracking the Soul's Code Through Dream