writing

My Journal

Another milestone is upon me… my journal only has a few pages left. In fact, I think it will be complete after my writing group call tomorrow. 

The beginning of my journal

I remember where I was when I opened this journal — Houston, TX in the fall of 2018 for a conference. I was staying at an AirBnB. I brought magazine clippings, glue and scissors with me (just in case, you know). I decided to make a collage on the first page of the journal.

collage in my journal

Then I wrote this:

I wanted my first entry to be poetic in some way — grand, meaningful, beautiful. I think this is more appropriate though — authentic, vulnerable, honest. This is always a good place to start.”

October 23, 2018

I don’t write in my journal daily. I can go weeks, sometimes months, before writing there. It’s full of reflections, brainstorming, collages, notes, and even some “to do” lists. I like that my journal holds all of that — I don’t reserve it for special occasions or ideas I deem worthy. No, it’s a safe place for whatever is on my mind.

When I was a teenager I used journals for devotion reflections. As I got older, I used my journal to sort out my feelings, particularly around relationships. Sometimes my journals were for prayers, other times they were for venting.

It’s not defined

Obviously I’ve never had a clear definition of what journaling is for me. Sometimes I fill journals with quotes I love, ideas from others. Other times I fill journals with quotes I love, ideas from me. 

There are paper journals that line my shelves and there are online journals (aka this blog) that fill the airways. Some I’m happy for others to read; others I’d be mortified. In fact, I got rid of many of my teenage journals — for better or worse. 

Sometimes I wonder: how many words have I put down on paper or typed on a keyboard? And then I wonder: will there be more or is this the end?

And then a new idea pops into my mind and miraculously more words appear! 

Another beginning

I bought a new journal recently, knowing the time was coming. She’s smaller, more petite than the one I’ve used for the last year and a half, but I have a good feeling about this one…

my journal

The inside page says this:

Your life is yours. It belongs to you.

You are not required to check in with the agents and guardians of cultural central command before you decide what you need ot do with your life. It is not theirs. It does not belong to them. No matter what they say. No matter what the shape of your journey might may be. You are allowed to move ever deeper into your life. The operative truth here is that it is yours. 

It’s yours.
It’s yours.
It’s yours.”

Elizabeth Gilbert

And on the top of every page it says: It’s yours.

Okay, I hear you journal (and Liz Gilbert). I hear what you’re saying to me. 

Fill me up

Fill these pages with me — my thoughts, my reflections, my collages, my notes, my ideas, my to dos. Fill these pages and when they are full, find another journal and fill them too. There is no limit. There is no ending. There will always be more words. There will always be enough. 

I will always be enough. And my journal (ahem, I mean me) reminds me that every time I open her up.

peace.

my journal

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