Journaling

I have started The Artists Way more times than I can count. Really, it would be a breakthrough for me to actually finish it. I get confronted by the idea of actually living my life as fully expressed and creative as I can imagine. But hey, at least I know about it, so that has to be something.

But I digress.

So I start the Artists Way, and I get confronted, and I quit it, which is a subject that belongs in another blog. The reason I bring it up is that one of the things they have you do, early on, is write Morning Pages. Three pages every morning. It clears your head, gets you ready for the day, is kind of a meditation of sorts.

I like Morning Pages because it gives me a chance to use pen and paper. I've always been a journaller, though. I got my first diary for my 7th birthday - a cute little Hello Kitty one where I pasted pictures of Wham! and discussed why I wanted to be cool like Lois Shippen.

I've always kept my journal, with varying amounts of regularity, but always at least two or three times a week. The times when I do it every day tend to be good times in my life - I think it's because I'm doing a regular writing meditation. I like to go back and look at my journals and think about what I was doing a year or ten ago.

Right now I'm writing in a Working Class Press journal. I like the pocket in the back to keep sentimental stuff. And the lines are good and narrow, which keeps my handwriting looking presentable so that my grandchildren will be able to read it. The lines are dark, the paper is smooth (but not slippery) and the binding seems to be holding up well. The one I'm using has about 120 pages, and cost about $10 at Barnes and Noble.

Tonight I just spent an hour on the living room floor listening to the Beatles really loudly and playing with the cat in between writing my three pages of thoughts. What a lovely way to spend an evening.