I saw an old leather-bound journal in my office the other day. It was one I had gotten from Barnes & Noble several years ago with a dyed and stamped, striped leather cover that I know reached out to one of those artsy tendencies in me. I thumbed through it again and discovered that it was mostly unused. I’d only written in a fraction of the pages.

I was thinking about that journal, and about the process of writing words. As I sit writing this post, I’m using my iPad and an app called Chronicle. It’s my diary these days — my journal. I use it to record my thoughts, compose them and refine them. It’s a process I once used my bound journals for.

My digital life has made many things more convenient, even many things more possible. But, I also wonder if I’m loosing something in tapping keys and touch points rather than moving ink along a page. I type faster than I write. It’s why I started journalling on a computer to begin with, and there is some value in using a tool that allows me to record thoughts quickly. But, there is also value in using a tool that slows my thoughts and ideas and memories long enough for me to capture them — to absorb and experience and embrace them. It gives me time to ponder, to synthesize, to form opinions, to take stands.

It’s the same with the experiences or moments my words are meant to expose and evaluate.

Embracing experiences is a special skill. It requires engaging the senses. Engaging the mind. Engaging myself with others around me. Slowing the process of thinking and processing to absorb the nuances — much like the process of writing by hand in that journal. Slowing the need to move to the next thing. To remain in the present long enough to enjoy it, absorb it, reflect on it. Or, maybe the reflection comes later. Maybe you have to remain in the moment long enough to let it’s uniqueness make an impact — an imprint on your experience. An imprint that you can later touch and feel with your spirit. And draw conclusions from. That doesn’t happen when moments are glossed over or rushed past.

I’m finding that I’m in need of slowing, of retraining myself to soak in, absorb and speak. After so often slipping into the habit of glossing over situations, of hurrying from one thought to the next, I’m re-learning how to discern my own opinions and impressions of an experience, be it a conversation, something I see or hear, or the actions of others. I’m relearning to expose myself to the things that really interest me, to define for myself what experiences are valuable and holding them long enough in my mind to glean all they have to offer my spirit.

I’m beginning a week or so of time away from home, visiting my parents for the holidays. Although I’m not sure three excited children running through the house in search of the full Christmas experience really qualifies as “slow'” but I’m looking at is as an opportunity to practice slowing. To focus my attention on these few simple treasures as I seek to define where I really want to focus my broader attention in 2012.

Well, we finished up the Thanksgiving holidays. Little Drummer Boy’s Fall break at school was the catalyst for some time away from home. A change of scenery is usually good for a change of perspective, too. Plus, the fresh air and clear skies of the family farmland doesn’t hurt either. I’m always amazed at how much clearer things sound when you’re surrounded by pasture and how much crisper the light is when there isn’t the competition of street lights.

Thanksgiving and my 12 days of posting was a worthwhile experience. As it always is. Looking back through some of the posts, I can easily see how valuable it is to focus my attention on blessings — to consciously look for and recognize the elements of life that bring me joy. Recognizing that joy helps me focus my attention. Through the last 12 days I’ve realized once again how important it is to take responsibility for defining my own life of joy and bringing that life into clearer focus by setting my own priorities.

I have one life. I have to make that real. In fact, I’m the only one who can make it real. And let’s face it; a life lived in pursuit of someone else’s dream is just pretending. It’s a waste.

If I am to make this one life one of meaning, it is imperative that I hear the clear ping of my own heart telling me what is important — what is required to make that life real and valuable. It is imperative that I maintain a crisp view rather than a hazy picture of what that life should be. And that takes discipline and soul-searching and some hard choices. But it’s worth it if I want to have the assurance that I spent my life living rather than waiting to live it. Hoping to live it. Thinking about living it. Imagining living it.

So, I’ve been thinking. What are the shadow areas of my life? What are the areas where I am content with the mere outlines and silhouettes of the real thing? Life goals and themes change over time. Once again, it’s time to decide. What do I want my life to be? What do I want my children to see or expect when they prepare to live their lives?

Tough questions. Ones that are not always easily answered. More challenging still, at times, are the choices required to follow through with making my answers materialize. It requires courage and resolve and a clear understanding that this life — my life — is worth it.

We can choose to exist. To simply subsist. But that isn’t enough for me. I don’t want to poorly invest the one life with which I’m blessed. So, I must define my own terms for it. And dare to reject anything that pulls me away from that true life. Anything that clouds the picture of a life lived to its fullest.