More than a year later, I finally found my way back here. Not because something significant happened to me. But because I had a stark reminder of the power of our words. How our hopes deserve to be trapped in letters and how today holds power for the future self. I might be usual with how much I enjoy journaling. I’ve been doing it since I could write. But I think all of us, most of us, can find something in this process.

A friend of mine was recently in a climbing accident. And his serious injury excavated all the layers of emotion that sit tight around my own fall. All our calculations about risk and reward. The feelings of shame at the chain of failures that lead to the accident. The days of uncertainty and pain. The human will to press on, the endless optimism of healing. Every day is better than the previous. The mind wakes up with the body. You retreat often into sleep, hate hospitals, find a new and tiny routine. The world a pinprick of our previous world.

After I heard the news I opened up the blog he wrote in 2018 when he underwent surgery on both his shoulders to repair bilateral labrum tears. There I found all the pieces of recovery. I read again through his patience and persistence, the knowledge and optimism that got him through those months and back to his goal. And I have so much hope for him.