Dream Believe Create
Journals have always been a part of my life — they are My Own Secret World. A place to express my feelings — to release them without fear, embarrassment, or judgment.
I can’t remember not writing in a journal. I think it first started when I was nine years old. I did chores around the house and my mom would pay me. I’d log the money I made and how I spent it. Then I started writing down about my day — when someone hurt me, made me feel bad, embarrassed me, but best of all when I experienced my first true love … ohhhh that so once-in-a-lifetime tingling feeling! Aah love…
We all need our Own Secret World. A place where we can escape and express all our rainbow of emotions — our fears, our disappointments, our list of accomplishments, our dreams, our goals — everything! And, best of all, we can say whatever we darn well please. What a wonderful, freeing feeling!
For me, my journals have been my very best friend. They keep my secrets locked away and are the road map about my life. And what a ride that has been! Whenever I want to see how I’ve grown, what I’ve done, I read my journals. How perfect is that!
Everyone should have their own journal. They’re the best gift you can give yourself. And it doesn’t make any difference when you start. Age doesn’t matter.
Let me tell you a true story…
When I was a young girl my grandmother (at the time she was 85) came up to my room to get me for dinner. I was writing in my journal and quickly closed it when she entered. She asked me what was so private. I told her it was my journal. “What about?” she asked. “My thoughts, feelings, stuff that’s meant only for me, not to be disrespectful,” I said. “No, you aren’t,” she smiled, “but does it help you?” I looked at her and immediately said, “Oh, yes!” She asked a few more questions and then we went down for dinner. Weeks later, Gram came up to my room all excited, “Guess what? I’m writing in a journal and I love it! I wish I’d been doing this sooner, but better late than never, right.” She laughed her hearty laugh and then gave me a big hug. When she died (she was 99) I found a locked cabinet. It took awhile to find the key, but when I opened it stacks of journals were inside. I took one and started to read it. She had written about losing her husband, my grandfather, who I never had the chance to meet. It brought tears to my eyes and then guilt. I realized this was her Own Secret World, so I gathered them all up and burned them.
Those few words of hers that I read have always stayed with me. They were so powerful—filled with such sorrow but with profound hope—that it made me even more committed to my journal writing and if a friend was stressed, or life was just a bit too much at the time, I would tell them, “Get a notebook, anything, and write it down; trust me, it will help. And when you do, remember, it’s for your eyes only, so go for it, say whatever you darn well please. It’s cathartic.”
I don’t remember any of them coming back to me and saying it didn’t help.
I think of journals this way … the words written are Your Secret Whispers meant for you & you alone. Each thought you put down is a whisper that floats out to the universe for it to receive and that’s when the magic begins. What can I say, I'm a Cinderella Gal. I believe in the power of thoughts, words, action, and most important using our brain—not completely relying on computers and other gadgets to do our thinking—and that's where I believe journals step in and help.
Now, I bet you’re wondering why I chose Visitor From Mars as my company’s name.
The stories I’m about to tell you are true—the first one told to me by my dad.
I was about two and half years old when I walked into our kitchen and said to my parents, “I want to go home,” and then I pointed towards the sky. My dad said, “But Carol, you are home.” I replied back, “No, I want to go home!” And again, I pointed to the sky. My mother then asked me, “What are you talking about, you are home?” I said, “No. Mars! Mars! I want to go home to Mars!” Then I turned around and walked away as they stood in a state of disbelief and puzzlement.
The second story happened when I had just become a literary agent and was told by a New York editor the best place to meet editors in one fell swoop was at the ABA Convention [American Bookseller Association].
At the convention there was this man who was a tarot card reader. Now not just any tarot card reader, but world-renowned—he had read for royalty, actors, government leaders—and my girlfriend signed us up to have a reading by him.
I arrived five minutes before my time and stood next to a wall facing this man as he finished his reading for my friend. He glanced up, stopped talking and just stared at me for what felt like an eternity. He finally put his attention back to her, leaving me in complete puzzlement.
When she left I introduced myself and sat down. He immediately apologized for staring at me and said, “I’m going to tell you something and I believe you will take it in the right spirit, or at least I hope so.”
I just smiled and said, "Okay."
He took a deep breath, “I don’t know how else to put this, so I’ll just say it. You are not from this planet.”
For a moment I just looked at him, and then I started laughing and said, “That explains a lot!”
He smiled with relief and said, “I knew you’d understand. But, seriously, I’m being very honest with you, you are not from this planet.”
So, there you have it—at two & a half I wanted to go back to my home on Mars . . . then years later I was told I wasn’t from this planet. Oh, and one other thing, I’ve never felt like Earth, or any place on Earth, was home to me. I’ve always felt misplaced. That is why I'm a Visitor From Mars!
I hope you will enjoy the journals as much as I have in creating them for you. And I have last request: promise me you'll always keep this thought tucked away in your heart & mind . . .
"All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them."