A Lifelong Romance

I love stationary.

I’ve always been romanced by it. It’s a thread that has been woven throughout my life.

One of my early memories, I might have been 5- or 6-years old at the time, was of me tagging along with my Dad while shopping at the big mall where I grew up in Ottawa. I don’t know what our mission was on that day or what exactly we were shopping for, but I do remember at one point asking him where we could buy paper. My Dad took me into an office supply store right there in the mall and showed me the stacks of loose-leaf lined, 3-hole punch paper packages on the shelf. It was adult paper. Not kid paper. I imagine I was more interested in the colourful pads of thick construction paper, or small spiral bound notepads, like the ones I would steal from the junk drawer in the kitchen, but nonetheless, my question was answered. I must have had some degree of concern that paper at our house would run out and I needed to know where to get it in a pinch.

I also remember being in love with the local card store at the smaller shopping centre near our house. It was called Garfield’s and, as a fan of the cartoon character of the same name, what wasn’t to love? When I was old enough, I’d ride my bike up to the mall and go into Garfield’s to look through the greeting cards, maybe even buy a card with my allowance if it spoke the words I felt, but couldn’t articulate. The lady who worked in the store seemed old and cranky, but she was always nice to me. I could tell she smoked because when she’d give me back my change, I could see her index and middle fingers were stained by years of balancing cigarettes between them. I’d sometimes look at the big selection of stuffed animals on the back wall, the cute little trinkets on hangers and fragile glass gifts on display. There were also wedding memory books, boxed Thank You cards, special invitations and seasonal sets of cards for Valentine’s Day, Halloween and other Hallmark holidays. I loved looking at them all.

As I got older, in high school and then university, I continued to enjoy walking around greeting card stores, finding the perfect card to help me convey important messages and sentiments. I moved out of construction paper and into adult paper. A favourite time of the year was back-to-school season because I got to pick out fresh supplies. New notebooks, duotangs, dividers and folders, pads of paper and pens, highlighters and erasers. And I loved that smell – the smell of new plastic binders stuffed full of adult paper. If promise and possibility had a fragrance, that could very well be it.

When I was on my own, living in Victoria and relying on student loans, I would sometimes take myself to a special stationary store in the downtown core. It was a place with character – weathered hardwood floors that, other than the outside edges, had lost its shine long ago, old crown molding on the walls where they met the high ceiling, radiators that had been repainted hundreds of times over the years. Walking into the store was like a beautiful and colourful escape. It was quiet and calm. I would go in and look at the individually sold pieces of stationary and greeting cards, each one custom designed by someone, somewhere. Some were floral, some were coloured, some were plain and textured. They came in various sizes, and matching envelopes made the collections complete. They were all beautiful. They were special. I loved losing time in that store. If I could’ve, I’d have bought all of it to bring home and make my apartment feel like that store. On my student budget, I would treat myself every now and then to a special pad of paper for my desk or a journal for my bedside, or I’d pick out a piece of lovely paper and write a letter to someone and mail it. There was a romance in this store. A romance with words, writing and creativity.

Even now, when I see a stationary store, I want to go in. Truth be told, if I had a magic wand, I would have my very own. I’ve casually dreamt of that for a very long time, but it never felt like it was the right thing or the smart thing or the realistic thing to pursue. In my dream, my stationary store would be filled with beautiful paper, notebooks and greeting cards of all kinds and there would be a small coffee shop serving as a comfortable place to host a warm cup in one hand, pen in the other.

I’m not sure if that vision will ever become a reality. It might be something that simply stays alive in my heart. It’s not a depressing thought that I might never own such a place, instead it’s a thought that has been moving me into the experience of wonder. I’ve been wondering about the hidden message in it, or the innate wisdom that’s intended especially for me. I believe these threads that weave through our life are clues about deeply held treasures – treasures that get buried over time as responsibilities mature and day to day demands often insist that our purpose, cares, and passions take a back seat.

Today, as I purposefully give attention to those parts of me that find nourishment in creativity, this love of stationary has had me wondering what small steps could be taken toward letting that vision bloom in little bits. And since big and small choices are made every day, they can either support the kind of person I want to be and the life I want to live, or not. It’s clear that greeting cards and pretty paper have meant something to me in my life. They’ve represented the care I have for beauty and heartfelt connection. More and more I’m honouring a place for art, beauty and lightness in my life because I’d disregarded them for too long in a misguided effort to “win” at building a business, being a respected professional and focusing on things that could make me (feel) relevant.

Not long ago, I awoke from a dream where I was designing greeting cards and loving the feeling of having contributed to making someone smile and feel seen. In the morning, I decided to follow the guidance that came through that dream, and I got started, without a plan or destination in mind. I just allowed myself to move forward and enjoy the process. And I still am. I really, really “in-joy” the process of making my own greeting cards.

I don’t know how long I’ll continue to design these cards.
I don’t know if anyone will like them or want them.
I don’t know if I will be “successful”
I don’t know if this will become a side business.
I don’t know where this is leading me.

And in all honesty, none of that matters right now.

I’m having fun and it’s a joy.
Time flies by when I’m designing.
I like doing it.

I am granting myself the permission to make art, beauty and lightness important regardless of where it may (or may not) take me. It’s an essential piece of my experiment with creativity and self-trust. I’m giving myself the space to create something that is both born and fed from within because in my heart of hearts, I know that brings goodness to the world. I’m listening to, and celebrating a yearning that has been with me for decades and it’s incredibly fulfilling.

I believe there’s wisdom in that.

And I’m trusting it.

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