Showing posts with label fountain pen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fountain pen. Show all posts

Monday, September 01, 2025

This pen in my hand

There's something about grasping this pen, holding it in my hand, 

that calms my mind, something about waking each morning 

and opening the box that holds my pens 

and selecting one and removing the cap 

and wrapping my fingers around the barrel 

that softens my heart, lets me feel connected to the world, 

as if the pen is a secure ring that I can hold onto 

while spinning on the merry-go-ground of life, 

or like the string of a kite that lets me imagine myself 

soaring into the sky, floating in the clouds. 

It's like I'm holding my mother's hand again, 

feeling safe, protected, as she leads me into the world, 

even though she's been gone for more than forty years. 

It's like a memory machine that lets me hear my grandfather's voice again 

as he sits at our kitchen table on Sunday mornings

sipping his coffee and retelling stories about growing up 

in a Polish shtetl and coming to America 

and making a life for himself. 

It's like holding a magic wand that silences the negative voices in my head, 

and all I need to do is wave it over the blank pages of this journal 

and words will appear, like these words, which came out of the blue, 

out of thin air, out of nowhere, part of the mystery of the way writing works, 

and this pen in my hand is the key to entering into this mystery, 

to opening the door to my imagination, 

to feeling connected to the secret universe hidden inside my heart. 

Friday, August 01, 2025

Sleight of hand

If words are reluctant to appear on the page when you sit down to write, why not try switching pens?

It's a simple trick, an easy way to encourage words (and thoughts) to keep flowing. 

You might call it an illusion, a magician's sleight of hand, but when you find yourself stuck it's a way that might help you draw new words from the mysterious source from which all words flow. 

It's what I do, switching to one of the pens that I keep ready on my desk.  

Over the years I've collected dozens of pens. I fill them with different colored inks--violet, blue, black, ama-iro, kon-peki (both different shades of blue), sepia, and more--and, depending on my mood, I select a pen with the color ink that suits my mood that morning. 

Each pen's barrel is a different size, shape, weight, and color. Some of the pens are made in Japan. Others are made in Germany, Britain, and here in the United States. Some have fine point nibs, others medium, or extra-fine. Some are sharp-edged, others rounded. 

But the pens share something in common. The moment I hold one of the pens in my hand, I feel as if I'm holding a magic wand that's filled with magic ink. And as soon as I begin writing with it, I can feel the pen weave its magic spell onto the page, helping me draw words out of silence. 

Each pen leads me down a different path into a sea of words. 

Words that heal my heart. Words that make me smile. Words that connect me to those I love. Words that help me understand the world. Words that link me to the divine source of words. Words that form stories, create poems. Words, words, words...

Some days there are so many words that I feel like I'm swimming in words. But other days, staring at a blank page, I can feel as if I'm stranded in a desert without a drop of water within reach. 

That's when switching to a different pen can help me overcome the silence, poke through the resistance, leap over reluctance, and swim past fear. 

Somehow holding a different pen in my hand can banish the dread of emptiness that I feel when I look at a blank page.

Just seeing the pens lifts my heart. 

And just holding one of the pens gives me the courage to begin, to step into the unknown, and to begin swimming. 

Each pen gives me hope that I might discover something that I've never seen before. And questions begin to bubble up: What will I learn today? What will I find that's been hidden for years? What will this pen bring to the surface?

Of course, there are no guarantees that switching pens will help words appear on the page or that a new pen will help you find what you need on the page. 

But it's always worth a try.

So when words are reluctant to appear, why not try switching to another pen... and see if it might help you discover what you need to find this morning... just as switching to another pen helped me.



Sunday, August 18, 2019

What I love about writing

What I love
about writing with
a fountain pen

the moment before
I begin writing
when the pen's nib
is poised above
the page

and I can see
its shadow
curved
like a face
staring up from
the paper
wondering
what the first word,
the first letter,
will be

And how it will feel
to touch the page again,
shadow and nib
kissing the paper,
their kisses
leaving a trail
of words
behind.

--

Each morning
writing
is
like jumping
out of a
plane
and
praying
the parachute
opens...

--

I love the precision
of a fountain pen's
sharp nib

the mysterious way
ink flows onto
the paper from its
point

the clean lines
the way letters form
beneath it
on a page
that was blank
a moment
before.

--

Look -- footprints
in the snow

ink stains
on the page

smudges on glass
evidence

someone was
here.

--






Sunday, July 14, 2019

The Magic of Writing with a Fountain Pen

“My two fingers on a typewriter have never connected with my brain. My hand on a pen does. A fountain pen, of course.” — Graham Greene

It may seem foolish, even a bit self-indulgent, to write about fountain pens when so many pressing issues threaten our world. 

But a fountain pen has not only helped me put aside my worries about the world for the brief time that I take each morning to write with one, it has also rekindled my pleasure in the process of writing by hand. 

The immediacy of writing with a fountain pen surprised me the moment the nib first touched the page and the ink seeped out of the pen, seeming to bleed onto the paper.

It felt like the pen was alive, a newly discovered part of my hand connecting me in some mysterious and supernatural way to my heart, and as I wrote, my hand moving across the page, it felt like the ink was coming straight from my veins.

Until a few months ago, I hadn’t used a fountain pen since high school. 

Remember how messy those fountain pens were to use back then? Often, I’d end up with more ink on my hands than on the page.

I’d write and the pen would leak and the ink would leave stains on my fingers and smudges on the pages and messy ink spots on my palms. 

For years afterward I preferred writing with ballpoint pens. I would buy cheap pens that I could throw away easily after they ran out of ink or dried up or broke in my backpack. Best of all, they didn’t drain my wallet of the little cash that was in it. 

But a few months ago my cousin wrote wanting to know if I’d ever thought about using a fountain pen. He had found one that he liked, a Pilot Metropolitan, which was supposed to be a good introductory pen at a reasonable price (under $15 at Amazon), and the thought of writing with a fountain pen intrigued me. 

I decided that I’d try one, just to find out if fountain pens were the same as I remembered or if they’d changed much since my high school days, and, after quickly searching Google, I discovered just how many fountain pens there are to choose from these days. 

There are pens made in Japan, pens made in Germany, and pens made in the United States and elsewhere. There are pens with cartridges and pens with converters, and there are so many choices for ink, more colors than in a rainbow, it seems. There are so many colors and pens, in fact, that it’s hard to keep track of them all. 

So, I started reading reviews, and I found a pen in my price range ($10) made by Pilot called Kakuno (which means “to write” in Japanese), and I ordered one, along with some extra cartridges.

After it arrived, I opened the packaging—surprised to find that the instructions were printed in Japanese—and, after figuring out how to insert the cartridge, I started writing. And … wow! 

It’s a pen, but it’s so much more than a pen!

I mean, looking at it, you’d think it’s just another writing instrument. The Kakuno shell is made of plastic, but it’s a perfect size that fits nicely in the palm of my hand, and holding it takes very little effort because it’s so light that when it’s in my hand and I'm writing, I hardly feel it unless I grip it too tightly. 

The moment I begin to write, it’s like magic: the ink flows onto the page, the blank page reaches up to embrace the pen, my hand moves effortlessly across the paper. It’s a moment of becoming, a moment of (please, excuse my enthusiasm) unexpected oneness with the universe, a zen-like immersion in the present.

It can take a while to feel comfortable using a fountain pen. But after experimenting a little with different angles and using it in different journals, I can say that writing with a fountain pen feels as natural (and effortless) as breathing. 

Why not add a little variety to your writing practice and try a fountain pen? It doesn’t have to be an expensive one. (You can find the Kakuno online for as little as $10 if you don’t mind  the color….and a plastic shell.) 

You might be surprised at how your writing—and your feelings about your writing—will change when you begin using one.

If you’re still undecided about whether to use a fountain pen, or just curious and want to read more about them and the people who find them attractive, here are a few links that you might enjoy: