In July of 2011--a few months after graduating from college--I started writing a journal with the intention of recording a page of text everyday. To my surprise and delight, this simple exercise not only became a habit, but grew into a source of inspiration, perspective, and practice. Indeed, whenever someone tells me they want to turn their life around, I suggest they start a journal and keep it religiously. As Mark Twain said in The Innocents Abroad (1869), "Yes, a journal that is incomplete isn't of much use, but a journal properly kept is worth a thousand dollars--when you've got it done."
Why, you ask? Judging from my own experience, few activities are more conducive to processing the past and our own ideas than by putting them into written form. There's likely a scientific explanation for why this so often works, but what I find is that a record of one's experiences and thoughts make reviewing them easier. It helps us see from where we've come, and how our appraisal of events has either changed or remained the same over time. Perhaps as importantly, a piece of writing, even just the word-vomit of a stream-of-consciousness piece, requires a kind of architecture to stay together outside the confines of one's mind. As such, the act of writing seems to have the consequence--intended or otherwise--of making us give our thoughts and experiences coherence and connectiveness it might not otherwise have. Sometimes this process oversimplifies complex phenomenon (see most op-eds for examples), but for an individual building a narrative about, and an approach to, one's life may make useful insights more likely. This could be why I've found several instances of journal writers on the Internet using the exercise to process grief, loss, the end of relationships, or some other major change in their lives.
As Twain's words from above might suggest, while starting a journal isn't difficult keeping it often is. I've had this problem over the years, excitedly beginning the tasking of filling a book with thoughts and ideas each day, later to run out of steam and abandon the effort a few days, weeks, or months later. For some reason the original fire could not sustain the effort, and like a candle burned low, my flame of enthusiasm would wink out each time.
I think the biggest difference between this time and the others involved my openness to simplicity. Journaling can be as simple or complex as you want, and likely no one method will work for everyone. In my case, I had to make the exercise simple, and define success broadly: I could write about anything, so long as I did it every day, and filled a page in my book. Some days I could draw pictures of maps, and others it would be simply text. I could write about news, something I'd read, or a conversation I'd had, anything. Content mattered less than performing the exercise, and while I wrote (and continue to write) a lot of fluff and nonsense, I often feel better after doing it.
And of course it can be good fun to go back a year or two and see what was happening, what things had me excited or worried, or something goofy a co-worker said. It's for these things, among others, that I think made Twain rate a well-kept journal so highly.
Happy Thursday :)
What are the odds, I started a journal soon after graduating as well. I would say I average one entry per week though and find myself repeating the same ideas over and over (one you might expect is "I want to be able to run more!").
ReplyDeleteI agree with the idea that writing things down is a useful exercise but for a different reason. Going back and reviewing can be helpful, but I just find that after I write something down I feel way better about a situation despite the fact that nothing has actually changed. I don't know why, but for example, when I was injured and not running I would write down how angry I was and whatnot and then feel way better afterward even though the status of my injury was the same.
Perhaps it's not surprising that the two of us, who keep a blog, keep a personal journal as well (though I don't think that's a coincidence). There's a lot of things in my personal life that I can't blog about, and since I've gone to writing as an outlet, I felt like I needed to write the personal things down somewhere.
Completely agree with you that writing something down can make one feel better. I had issues in college that sometimes stuck with me for years, and in less extreme cases, a few weeks or months. With a journal, those hang-ups tend to resolve after a few days. As mentioned in the piece, I think this works because writing forces us to bring our thoughts together more clearly so as to represent the idea outside our mind, which by doing so helps us think about it more carefully. I'm not sure what your experience is, but in mine such additional care tends to make previously untenable problems seem less overwhelming.
DeleteI also agree that having a private and public outlet for writing is useful. Some thoughts we like sharing, and others we don't. Of course, there are instances in which private writing makes very interesting public reading, "The Meditations" by Marcus Aurelius being an excellent example (he wrote it in 12 books while on campaign, and ordered them burned upon his death. Naturally, someone disobeyed orders, and we are all richer for it). Along with matters of personal reputation (having the humility to admit that most of our ideas are probably pretty silly), I think it comes down to whether you think your thoughts will benefit others, or only serve your own needs. I suspect a journal usually fits the latter, but that doesn't mean it won't help you think about ideas for public consumption as well. A journal allows us to work through our personal needs and silly ideas outside the public eye, and thereby provide an opportunity to sift through and clarify our thinking until we feel more confident of its value. That is my experience anyway.