Flipping through an old notebook is a special and treasured pleasure of mine. Not only for reviving the memory of a time, person, or place, but also because I find they improve with time. The critical self dialog of the now is gone and the true nature of what I captured can now stand apart from such noise.

I have found that the longer my used notebooks sit on a shelf, the more valuable they become to me. That I often do not — can not — recognize the full worth of a thought, idea, or conversation I have captured until it has gone long forgotten on a shelf or in past pages. Only when I stumble upon it with eyes anew does the true importance shine through.

So, what I capture and where and how does not matter as much to me for most things. What is important is that I regularly take the time to go back to these places, flip through the pages, and allow those pasts to speak to me in the present.