Artist above: Manzel Bowman
“Just as a good rain clears the air, a good writing day clears the psyche.” – Julia Cameron
*Before I begin, if what I’m about to talk about seems interesting and you feel called to take on a form of writing practice, then I suggest checking out Julia Cameron’s book, the ARTIST’S WAY. Or head over to Erick Godsey’s website to enroll in his 30-day journaling course.*
For the past couple of months, my girlfriend (Jenny) and I have dove into “morning pages.”
Essentially, the morning pages are a three page journal entry of an unfiltered stream of consciousness done immediately upon waking up. The idea is to get whatever is in your head out onto paper. This means that the pen never stops, you don’t pause to think about what to write, and you never edit. If you can’t think of anything, then write it down. I’ve had days where line after line literally said, “thinking, thinking, thinking,” until a better thought bubbled to the surface.
Like brushing your teeth, this is done every morning. It may sound tedious, but there’s a magic that takes place when you commit to a practice like this. As the days roll on, you begin to flow into a literal rhythm, and eventually, you let go. Whatever needs to come up and out will find its way onto those pages.
This can be anything from good ideas to future plans, maybe the embarrassing thing you did a year ago that still haunts you, and even the lyrics of that god damn random song that has been on repeat in your head since the moment you woke up.
Let us also not forget, everything that may be troubling you will find its way onto those pages––this is good!
To get to a point in your writing where you are free to write exactly how you feel, with no filter, takes time, but it is unconditionally worth it. I would go so far as to say that this should be a pre-rec for being human.
But this isn’t as easy as it sounds. Intimidation will try to make you its bitch if you’ve never journaled before. After journaling for almost six years, I sometimes find myself trying to muddle the truth as our most profound thoughts can be hard to bear. The name of the game is commitment to truth though, and if there’s ever a place to start, it should be in the privacy of our journals.
Essentially what you’re doing is coming clean to yourself. It’s so easy for us to push away our intrusive thoughts, but once they’re on paper, then that shit becomes real. There’s no more ignoring that wild sexual fantasy that you had last Tuesday or how you had a less than angelic thought of violence––yeah, you know what I’m talking about, buddy.
It can feel like a lot is because we get a first-hand look at just how crazy an unfiltered mind can be. A couple of months back, Jenny and I shared precisely this.
As we both chipped away pouring our every thought onto these pages, there was a day when Jenny found herself in the depths of a rougher journal entry. She ended her session by asking me to please never read her journal. The look on her face said it all, and anybody who’s ever took up the task to face their tumultuous inner landscape knows exactly what look I’m talking about.
But what she said next left me puzzled.
She followed up with, if something were to ever happen to her, I could still never read her journals, and all I could think is, “really?”
We are now entering the meat and potatoes of this blog.
THE MEAT AND THE POTATOES
I found myself puzzled because I couldn’t relate. I knew why she said it, but I disagreed.
Yes, maybe while I’m alive, I wouldn’t want anyone to read my journal. Even then, though, I’m not sure I would care that much. Most of what’s in my journals I’ve shared through my writing, or with those closest to me. There is the occasional “I should have run that cuntrag off the road,” but now that’s on here, so fuck it. Let it rip, bae-bee!
But what was really bothering Jenny was how she didn’t want me to see the inner workings of her mind.
And that’s when it hit me.
We’re scared for people to read our journals––basically to know our deepest thoughts–– because we think we are the only ones who think or feel that way.
Nobody else can relate to what I’m going through.
My thoughts are so fucked up. What would people think if they read this?
My writing is so sporadic and all over the place. I’m starting to sound crazy, and it scares me.
It almost seems like there are different parts of me in my writing. Wait, am I crazy?
Shit, I think I am crazy.
Guess what? We’re all dogshit crazy! We all have a screw loose somewhere, and that’s okay.
If you have ever journaled with your whole heart, then you know that you, my friend, are a complete fucking psychopath. We think we’re the only ones who have these crazy thoughts, but we’re not!
But, I’m not crazy, Justin.
Yeah? Tell me how rational your thoughts were after your last breakup. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.
I’m not certain about many things in life, but I’m 99.7% sure that if we all shared our journals with our deepest darkest thoughts, we’d laugh, and we’d be relieved.
Oh how good it would feel if we all just knew that more or less we deal with the same thoughts and feelings. I mean, we’d be fucking ecstatic! There would be no more need to hide. Think about how much energy we waste by continually trying to keep those parts of ourselves hidden from the world. That shit is so exhausting, is it not?
But, at any moment, we can give this all up.
We can give up identifying with our woe-is-me story and realize that it is nothing more than a story that we’ve been clinging to for far too long. But wait a minute, that story gives us our significance––even if it is negative. We can’t give up our significance! Who would I be without it?
We can give up attachment to our thoughts and emotions. We learn to let everything pass just as the clouds do on a sunny day. Or in the worst of worst conditions, we finally realize that just because we had a thought doesn’t mean we have to become it. We can choose not to let it take us over. But if I’m not my thoughts nor my emotions, then who am I? I can’t give those up!
And finally we can give up caring what others would think about us. Unfortunately, the need for acceptance is so deeply rooted in our DNA (thanks to our hunter-gather days where not being accepted by the tribe did mean death). Times have changed, though, baby! For every person who judges you, there are ten more willing to be your friend.
SO, TIME TO LET IT ALL OUT
Part of me thinks that the world is the best it’s ever been, and in some regards, this is true. Then there’s the part of me that can’t ignore that the world is still very much in a lot pain. As a species, humans are going through some of the most intense growing pains that we have ever seen.
But on a small level, we can each do something to insure that we help tip the scales in the right direction.
We heal the world by sharing our stories––no easy task by any means. And before we can even think about sharing it with those closest to us––let alone the world––we first need to make peace with it within ourselves. This is a commitment that requires patience, and extreme compassions for one’s self.
What may seem like an arduous undertaking can thankfully be avoided if we start small. And got damn is there is no better place to start small than with a journaling practice.
I’m not saying we need to go and share our every thought and feeling with the world. But,
Give it all up! The world is waiting to heal, and sharing our stories is the the greatest possible gift that we can give to help do exactly that.
Edited by: Patricia Hendriks