I faithfully write
three daily composition-book pages, mostly in the mornings. In the past five years, I have missed only
eight days. Most of us start a diary or
journal, and then abandon it after the novelty wears off. What’s happens? In reflecting on what makes a satisfying
entry and what does not, I find Abraham Maslow’s Pyramid of Needs nurtures my process. Just as I adapted
his pyramid to an earlier blog, Teaching from the Heart Up¸ I have
adapted it specifically for journal writing. In this series of posts, "Journal for Authenticity," we will use this model to explore various aspects of daily writing.
The bottom-most
level on the pyramid is anger, fear, survival—being on the run. It’s hard to settle into write if that’s
where I’m living at the moment. So, over
the past five years, I’ve developed certain comforting, stabilizing routines to
slow me down. I gather myself up to
write by creating constants, which trigger my writing muscles.
First, I only
write in composition books. Ditzing myself
over deciding what’s next, and holding off before I mark the perfect first page
of an expensive book—and thus “ruining” it—is another way to avoid myself.
Composition books are available, have the aura of something lasting and
faithful, and are available everywhere—from stationery stores to supermarkets,
to drugstores, to bookstores, and, of course, online. I even find them at
convenience stores and gas stations.
There’s the traditional marble cover—now in a
rainbow of colors—or more jazzy variations—wallpaper designs, glitter, fabric.
With the same 9-3/4X 7-1/2 format, my journals line up nicely on my shelves. I may
experiment with wide rule, college ruled, even graph paper—but always I write
100 lines, which varies the number of pages. I’m mostly a college-ruled comp.
person, 3-pages each day. No more monkeying around, as they say, with journal
hunting.
Next, I use the
same pen—a PILOT G-2 07, bold tip, blue ink. I buy boxes of refills, and love
the texture of my written pages, which ripple under my fingers because of the
generosity of the ink.
Three, Where and when is another
issue for journal writing—the point is to be steady, but flexible. With long commitment, I have settled into a
certain place in the living room. Just
sitting there gets me focused. It feels like coming home to settle in. On some
days, I write while my husband drives.
On others, as when he was spending long weeks in rehab, I wrote while he
slept in his hospital bed. When we’re on
vacation, I might perch, cross-legged on the beach at dawn, or next to
waterfall. My daily commitment is not negotiable. That’s why I’ve only missed eight days in 1,675.
Blank page? No problem.
I have developed a routine to smirch up that clean, intimidating first
page—start date for that book. (I
usually need a new book every two months).
The first thing I do with the clean new page is head my entry in a
certain way, as for example, here:
30º 7:01A
LRCL Gray Skies 1.24.20 péntek Light
Recording the outside temperature; the time; where I’m sitting (LRCL=Living
Room Couch left); the weather; the date; day of the week (I’m teaching myself
the days of the week in different languages, péntek is Friday in
Hungarian); and my Angel for the day (see Angel Cards: Spells and
Incantations), is a ritual that helps me settle in for my daily Musings—along
with my PILOT G-2 07 Bold, blue-ink pen. Such rituals create focus and a safe,
predictable space.
I sometimes describe my current surroundings—
Comp book resting on a mermaid pillow. Mort
stirring scrambled eggs in a pan.
Or current state—
Insomnia again.
Sinus-y. Dizzy.
What
rituals and routines might you devise to stop running and settle down to a
daily journal?
What’s
your blank page?
What’s
your book?
What
is your writing instrument?
Where
will you write?
How
will you head each entry?
In
the following post, we will consider how long to write and at what time of day.
Because I Can Teach:
Journal for Authenticity Series:

