The Art, Joy and Relaxation of the Journal
Noun: a daily record of news and events of a personal nature; a diary.
Verb: write in a journal or diary
Did you keep a diary as a kid? Perhaps the kind with the little locking mechanism that made us feel private and secure, that no one could read our innermost thoughts? I did. Several times. I don’t think I ever kept up with a regular practice of writing in my diaries. What I did do regularly was keep mementos and write about them, journaled about them, and the who, what, where, when, and why. Not in anything fancy with a lock, mind you, but in notebooks and eventually a large yellow blank book titled ‘scrapbook’ in gold script on the cover (it was the 70’s)
I included cards my friends gave me, cute pieces of wrapping paper, pressed clovers that I found out in the yard, photos, articles, and certificates I received. I don’t recall anything precious or fancy, and the paper was the consistency of construction paper. I used magic markers to write my notes and descriptions, and kept it under my bed where it was easily accessible to add to and enjoy.
A decade later, I repeated this practice in photo albums with peeled back page covers. High school and then college mementos tucked in a written about on cards and papers. These later albums are still in a storage box where they can be visited and enjoyed, even though they have discolored.
I am thankful that I kept and recorded these memories, as they meant something to me at the time. While I may not always remember what and why, I do remember the feeling of sitting on my carpeted floor with scissors, glue, and markers, and adding to the books. I felt relaxed, focused, satisfied, and creative when I carved out time with my crafting supplies, scrapbooks, and albums.
As a creativity coach, I have learned that creative people don’t usually work well linearly. When tasked with doing something every day, perhaps for a set amount of time, it is often a setup for defeat. Daily-ish is a better goal. Miss a day and you are still on task. I now know why I did not write in my diary every day but preferred to keep more random scrapbooks and journals of moments and inspiration.
Scrapbooking as a verb and major hobby hit big in the 90’s when I was getting married and having children. It was the perfect outlet to save all the photos and mementos surrounding these big life events. Products abounded, touting being ‘acid-free’, so our books did not yellow as they did in earlier years. I have boxes of scrapbooks, made with love for my boys and now tucked away safely. I can look back at my leisure and read about their milestones and funny moments. It is a blessing. Digital photography and cameras on phones halted to regular trips to the local stores for film processing and thus changed the hobby.
Journaling has never left my life but evolved into different media. No longer photographs and captions, but still bits and scraps from life. Tickets and cards found images and packaging are adhered to the pages of today’s journals. These books are sometimes store bought but sometimes hand crafted. Pages are made from painted and repurposed papers, stitched together with a myriad of techniques and embellishments.
What has NOT changed is the feeling of relaxing and contentment as I sit with scissors, glue sticks, and pens and document these objects and memories. Sometimes the pages look like works of art, other times they are a stream of consciousness and ideas written out in simple pen. There is usually no overall theme (usually, but sometimes there is). I love to carve out a time – a few minutes or hours, alone or with friends – and journal.
We can call it what we want and use a noun or a verb. As the last page is finished – if it ever is – and a new book started – it is a joy to have this object that holds so many different thoughts, ideas, inspiration, and memories.