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#6 Journals Don’t Make Sense

But that is not why we should keep them! I didn’t write an essay for this first week of January 2020. Hadn’t really got into my yearly rythym at that point yet. And I was still faithfully writing my 3 morning pages most mornings. Up early, thoughts out on paper and then hurry into my day starting with a commute into the city. Seems like a lifetime ago now. My commute is much shorter, only a few steps out to the studio which is in my backyard. In this, I am extremely lucky. So many others are stuck in their bedrooms or masked at the office, trying to concentrate.

At some point in the year I stopped writing my morning pages. Perhaps I thought I was done with them. I was otherwise cured from what ailed me when I started them back in 2017. Now as the year of 2020 closes out and I think about what worked and didn’t, I wonder if I have forgotten the magic of writing in a journal? I mean, it is not as if journals make sense, in a practical way. They are a random collection of thoughts and are rambling at best. They are not really meant to be reviewed. But I think they are a tonic, nonetheless.

I’m currently experimenting with art journalling, again. Maybe that will lead me back to my practice of the morning pages. It sure couldn’t hurt. I do love the feeling I get from putting my thoughts down on paper. It gives me a sense of calm and perspective like nothing else. I might be talking myself back into it, actually!

Some thoughts about journals:

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