Journal Camp, day nine

Stories I Tell Myself

  1. One more cup of coffee won’ hurt
  2. But I need these shoes
  3. That spider could bit me
  4. Once bitten, twice shy
  5. My roommate is an absent minded genius
  6. I will drink more water
  7. I will relax in traffic
  8. Traffic isn’t so bad
  9. I have the best commute in the world
  10. Other people do more
  11. She makes it look easy
  12. The world is falling apart
  13. The world is a shared hallucination
  14. Quantum physics
  15. My chakras need clearing
  16. I love it when it rains
  17. If I eat the tomatoes now, I can save the artichoke for later
  18. Its hot enough to go to the pool
  19. Ninety degrees is the minimum to make the pool a good idea
  20. Check windspeed
  21. Journal Camp is awesome
  22. Here I grow again
  23. This is my favorite summer in years
  24. Its never too late for a happy ending
  25. I am a creative genius
  26. We are all creative geniuses
  27. Hooray for creative geeks!
  28. I am grateful
  29. I could be more grateful, more often
  30. Wahoo!

Journal Camp: Day 7

My Mother’s Scent

She wore Chanel No. 5. On nights my parents went out, she drifted out the door on a cloud of deep musky-floral pheromones, an  accommodation of the sophistication she yearned for. Periodically, when we were old enough for them to leave the brood with a reliable steel-belted sitter for the weekend, they journeyed north to the Banff Springs Resort in British Columbia. There are photographs of them from one trip, souvenirs from a night club they had attended. My mother appears to be in her thirties, young, pretty, wearing a classic kind of Jackie O sheath dress. The photographer caught her smile and a sparkle in her eyes. She seemed happy then, and glamorous. I imagine that in that dress, in that club, she was enveloped in a cloud of Chanel No. 5. She later switched to a fragrance called Interlude – with the same base notes, a similar mysterious, musky presence. Other scents of my mother that I recall: Breck hair spray, spray starch, despair.

Virtual Journaling Camp

Journal Camp (2)

Join me in July for a Virtual Journaling Camp! Journaling Campers will write for a minimum 15 minutes per day and in a month will have collected 31 pages of dazzling, original journaling prose.  Camper registration fee is $99. For this you get:

  1. 31 journaling prompts delivered to your inbox
  2. a signed copy of my book, Journaling As Sacred Practice: An Act of Extreme Bravery
  3. four video coaching sessions with award-winning author and coach, Cynthia Gregory
  4. access to a private FaceBook Group where you can post journal entries and share community with other Happy Campers

 

To register, email me at coach.cynthia.gregory@gmail.com

See you at camp!

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six word story no. 173

She found power made her saucy.

Brought to you on a wing and a prayer, by Journaling as Sacred Practice: An Act of Extreme Bravery. Available now on Amazon.

six word story no. 171

She owned DeMille at a glance.

swanson1

Brought to you with big blue eyes and a Cecile B. DeMille closeup by Journaling as Sacred Practice: An Act of Extreme Bravery. Available now on Amazon.

six word story no. 168

Still funny after all these years.

Brought to you with a wicked sense of humor and a touch of blues by Journaling as Sacred Practice: An Act of Extreme Bravery. Available now on Amazon.

six word story no. 165

Suddenly, old school was new again.

Brought to you like a rock star by Journaling as Sacred Practice: An Act of Extreme Bravery. Available now on Amazon.