The Lost Art of Journaling

My poor handwritten journal feels neglected. It is also a little jealous at all my electronic "blog" updating. I carry my journal, a hardcover acid-free sketchbook, around with me in my purse, every day, everywhere I go. This is a habit, from back when I used to write multiple entries every day, by hand. Pen and paper, ink and pulp, falling in love with each blank page, or relishing the feel of the embossed pages before. Handwriting is therapeutic writing, sensual, tactile, a true physical release. It is so much different from pressing little squares, even with their comforting clicks. Sure, it is satisfying to see a page fill up behind the a cursor, often more quickly than script from the pen will allow. And there is the security of spell-check, and less second-guessing about whether a word feels right, so long as it looks correct. But changing the font on a digital entry will never be as artistic to me as the look of my own handwriting-filled pages, or the goofy doodles I attempt, or the ornate designs that fill the corners and empty spaces where there are not words. I blog for economy, for a purpose on a specific topic (hence this writing process blog you are reading now, which is different from my music, spiritual, or self psychoanalytical blogs). Could it be I have too many outlets? My writing spread out over too many "journals," thus distracts me from the physical writing I used to create daily?

In a previous entry, I discussed the idea of returning to a visual journal I began some years ago, that I call a "soul journal." I was composing it using prompts from a book by Christina Baldwin titled Life's Companion : Journal Writing as a Spiritual Quest (sadly, out of print), and recording my responses using words and various methods of collage including magazine cut-outs, rubber stamps, inks of various colors, and other ephemera. I still really like the journal, but I've not worked in it for years, yes, years. I feel that if I attempted a return, it would be a different person responding, vastly different from the person I was when I began, and without having that progression of the soul somehow chronicled in that document. It feels wrong to me. But I want to return to the process.

I constantly talk myself out of starting new journals, whether online or physical. I have TOO many, and the majority are only updated on rare occasions. In the case of physical journals, this feels wasteful, careless. I want to be creative every day, and the way I accomplish manifesting my creativity is through writing. (I have other crafting hobbies too, but writing is more forgiving somehow. It's a place where I can experiment and file away the creatures who are a bit wonky, and showcase the creatures who surprise and delight.)

So, I'm re-committing myself to taking the time to write in my physical journal daily. I encourage myself to use medium other than a standard ink pen. I will use a prompt if I have nothing on my mind. I will adventure to write in non-standard paths--horizontal, vertical and non-linear. I will allow myself to draw in the margins, be messy, add clippings, ticket stubs, lists and other outside ephemera. I continue to be inspired by the 1000 Journals Project, and other visual journaling groups. These compilations are striking, intensely moving, and powerful, more so than words alone. The combination of words and images have always appealed to me, and so my goal is set. There are more guidelines, or notes, on being less concerned with neatness and organization, and not being afraid to "mess up" or wreck a page. There is beauty in the mistake, in flaws, in the character each creates.

Time to let go, and get going.