Journaling and Intuition
I’ve started a bullet journal. I went to the shop and bought the first decent-looking grid notebook I found, along with a simple black gel pen. By the way, gel pens are really great: very smooth compared to ballpoint pens, and less involved than fountain pens. A real pleasure to write with. It makes a difference! They do bleed through paper a little though, and they absolutely hate highlighters of any kind.
I noticed the effects of journaling right away: less chaos, a better-organized life, improved memory, and a permanent record of events to keep. I’ve tried journaling before, but I always made it too involved or over-complicated.
A bullet journal has its own style of to-do list. I basically write a full monthly calendar on one page, and on the following pages, for each day, I write the full date and to-do entries for that day: shopping, housework, vitamins. If my day has nothing else, it has a vitamins entry for sure, so no day is skipped. I also always consult my monthly calendar to see if there are any particular events for the day, and rewrite them there.
I always wanted to keep a diary, and December, with all its chaos, finally convinced me. But it was not just that. It was also an intuition that this would be the right move, if only I could keep it simple.
I always listen to my intuition.
On that note, I can describe an event that occurred some months ago, when I had an intuition, or half-dream, to buy a lottery ticket. The morning after, I visited a lottery stall and pulled not one, not two, but three winning tickets in a row. It didn’t add up to much. I’m not buying a house exactly.
The girl at the counter was impressed. She had not seen someone pull three in a row, she told me. I told her about the dream and intuition. She was surprised, we laughed, and said goodbye.
I made another attempt to test my luck on my birthday a couple of weeks later. Fate be kind, it’s my birthday after all! Zero.
An example of my journal:
Resources on bullet journaling:
- How to Bullet Journal by Bullet Journal
- How to Set Up a Notebook You’ll Actually Use by Lilla Björn Stationery
Budapest Twice
Budapest was always a stop on the way to somewhere: I flew from there, arrived by train, drove by car. I arrived to go further, to meet someone, or to deliver someone. So many happy hellos and sometimes sad goodbyes. Always coming and going, but never staying!
This December, an opportunity presented itself to finally not just pass by, but stay, explore, and experience at least a small fraction of this magnificent city, enchantingly dressed up for the holidays.
The two trips fell on consecutive weekends. The first one was with my brother and his family. The second was to meet my friend.
With my brother, we visited the zoo, a small improvised luna park, but what an experience! We also visited a market. My type of place. It gave me a chance to expand on my bargaining abilities. So I did. A soap salesman was angry with me: “This is my whole earning, this goes out of my pocket,” he’d say, “but let it be!” I’m sure he was exaggerating. A girl selling pottery was more pleasant: “You want such price? Let it be, come with me and we’ll wrap it up.”
After colorful days, I had a rather long 40-minute drive to the hotel, which was located on the northern side of the city.
As I arrived, the atmosphere was eerie: a calm little town, narrow side roads, small fenced houses, shut windows, no people in sight. A monster of a hotel placed there, somehow not belonging. Wrapped in thick evening fog. A low brick wall overgrown with vines, surrounding it. A massive, heavy, black cast-iron gate, wide open, inviting. I love hotels even, or better said especially, when they feel straight out of a mystery book. I love the warm feeling of checking in and finally entering a room after a long and exhausting trip. A hot shower and a warm bed. I love the idea of being a stranger among strangers, guessing, the next morning, what people are there for while munching on scrambled eggs, orange juice, and coffee.
Who are they? An elderly couple, perhaps this is a stop on a long journey for them? Those old couples are always so energetic, full of expansive energy. A young couple, very much in love; here I need to note that it’s absolutely true, couples in hotels are more in love than in any other place in the world! A family with two lovely children. A strangely mismatched couple: an elderly, short, round woman and a tall, chubby young man with a ponytail and a black T-shirt with skulls or large-lettered words printed on it. A geriatric gray-haired gentleman, thin and well-groomed, and an attractive young lady in a light linen dress.
Finally, there’s me. Who am I? I suppose that’s the charming part: no one knows, and perhaps there’s a feeling within me that, for a moment, I can rewrite my story. To be anything I wish to be. There’s a feeling of belonging with that strange, mismatched group of people.
I feel that hotels always open a strange sensation in me. The spaces, constantly occupied by such a variety of people, leave traces of their ambitions, thoughts, and spirits lingering in rooms and corridors. Could I, while I’m there, take it all in, feel expanded, and experience quiet growth? Secret, strange questions, ideas, and ambitions opening.
The weekend passed too soon, but I had another trip to look forward to the following week. With my friend, we took a similar route to the one I took with my brother, but the second time the tone was calmer, cozier, and all in all pleasant. We spent most of the time conversing. Though we did visit the luna park, mostly for my sake and my friend’s horror. We ended with a lovely dinner in a cozy restaurant.
In such a way, Budapest happened. Nothing was wrong, everything was as it should be. I got inspired by it, and fell in love with it, just a little bit.
Photos from the trip:
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Commentarii valde utiles sunt. Iter Budapestinum et excitans et iucundum fuit.