Over the years I have tried and tried and tried again to have a journal. Many starts. Many short journals. You would think I would've got the hint sooner - I'm just not a journaler.
I may love notebooks and pens and all the glories of stationary products..... but it somehow doesn't translate down into my hand and into a book. I'm a typing, non-diarist, random self-expression, type of person.
I have owned snippet journals - notebooks where I jotted down snippets of thoughts, a line for a poem, a funny conversation. I have kept one and it is jammed with writing and ephemera - ticket stubs, a pressed rose, torn napkins with phone numbers. A treasure trove.
Blogging has largely replaced that. But I have discovered one area where a notebook is saving my brain and heart.
I'm an ideas person, having at least one big idea every day. For a painting or illustration or photograph, for a whole new art direction, for a book, for an e-course, for an e-book, for a course of study, for an article, for a blog post, for a career!
The crazy thing was that until quite recently, I wanted each to come to life. And when, inevitably, each couldn't, I would feel frustrated, a sense of loss. Somehow I learnt along the way that if you have an idea, your obligation is to do something with it.
My ideas book is my birthing place. I write each idea out and it's like I have allowed them to become real. To be manifested. Afterall, they are ideas first. They ask for nothing other than to exist. The tangible bit is a whole other manifestation.
I feel like I've honoured them and unburdened myself. And if I ever get the chance or the motivation to actually go further on one of them, there it'll be.
read: the oracle
taste: random bits as we empty our fridge
see: Hero, by Miguel Endara, admire this level of patience
hear: dopamine inducing arias
touch: today is all about cleaning, so we leave the house happy
think: how cold it is in England right now