I am grateful for ink. It is such a simple thing, but think how amazing it is that a simple pigment, binder, and vehicle (like soot, honey, and water) can make indelible marks that can be deciphered thousands of years later. With a few flicks of the wrist and fingers, thoughts are manifest and set down in a way that anyone can understand them and share in the mind of the author.
I am grateful for paper; for a surface on which those thoughts can be written. Vellum, parchment, and papyrus are beautiful things, but the written word had no chance to thrive when they were the only writing surfaces available. They are incredibly time consuming and labor intensive to produce. With the advent of paper in Europe, words and images became a commodity for mass consumption, and there was an explosion of ideas.
And I am grateful for books. Books are magic things, made up of only paper and ink, yet holding whole worlds between their covers.
Not only are these three things incredible in their uses, but in their own right they are things of beauty. I love the rich blackness of a carbon ink, or the warmth of a brown sepia or oak-gall ink. The crispness of cotton paper hundreds of years old, each piece with a unique colour and texture under the fingers. And I should avoid talking about how beautiful I find books to be, for I would be writing all night.
I am grateful for maturity... I've been thinking a lot about my past and choices I had made in my younger years and can only be grateful that I came through my experiences a little bit more wise and a little bit more mature.
I am grateful for the ability to recognize simple pleasures. Small and simple things make me so very happy and I if I didn't recognize these simple treasures, I fear I would be a lost soul always looking for more in my life.
I am grateful for the feeling of excitement within the realm of inspiration! I love the feeling I get when I'm inspired and ready to tackle a new project.