Recently I saw a tweet that asked, “How do you journal?” There were all sorts of interesting responses, describing the many different styles of journaling that people practice. But when I read the question, I didn’t initially think, “What are the ways in which one might journal?” so much as “How on earth am I supposed to ‘journal’??”
I find “journaling” hard. It’s difficult for me to write without an audience. But something feels weird about writing a diary entry with the intent of someone some day stumbling across it and reading it. Like it would compromise the honesty of the process. Not that I lie to audiences, but, honestly, I hold back. There are things I think that I would never say to another person without editing. I assume that’s true for you, too. It’s common sense. It’s common curtesy. Plus, many of the thoughts that come into my head I end up rejecting. And I don’t want to be held accountable for ephemeral nonsense that I toss out after examining. But isn’t that what journaling is? Writing your thoughts? Without care for how they are presented to someone else because no one else is going to read them?
“But Mac,” you say, “Just write it for yourself. YOU are your audience.” I hear you. But I don’t get it. In school I never read my own notes from lectures, and now I’m going to go back and read old journal entries some day? Seems unlikely.
So how do you journal? Like, what is your goal? What is your process? How do you decide what to write? When to write? How much to write? I know I’m probably overthinking this. Help me out.
Journaling
Mar 14
Everything Is a Habit
Feb 14
Our regular output is more a product of our habits than of our decisions. Or so they say. So pick something you wish you did well, and start by doing it frequently. Don’t worry about the quality. Don’t worry about the product. Habituate the process, and then once that machine is up and running, go ahead and make adjustments, add gears, and pour in more power. But first, get rolling.
Are We There Yet?
Aug 9
From time to time I get lost in my mind When thoughts let go of now and turn to meaning: A peek above the hedge to seek and find A bigger picture of life's path so fleeting. At times my passions mapped a path quite bold Across the landscape seen by eyes so young, But more and more now that I have grown older My visions of horizons come undone. For forty years my future was so certain; The path would blur but the compass point stayed clear. But now all roads are hidden by rain curtains, And far as I can tell my goal's no nearer Than when I first set out so long ago. Are roads and maps and trips an empty show?
Shower Questions
May 10
“A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.” So says Ralphy E. But I say publishing consistency is the bugbear of creators, adored by advertisers and algorithms and subscribers. Also, how did the semi-helpful trickster sprite become a tribal warrior opponent of first-level wilderness adventurers? Seems like a strange journey, and one made even stranger by how few bother to ask the question.