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| My Birthday Present to Myself |
My history with journaling and keeping a diary has resulted
in a colorful collection of blank books containing three to five entries, followed
by still-gaping pages that have been awaiting ink for years, even decades
after they were started. My journaling
has typically devolved into the kind of internal quandary debates that are sure
to bring such disciplined activity to a full-stop.
Yet this time around I am doing much better. It’s “Journaling for Dummies” if you
will. Or perhaps it is more like “Compassionate
Journaling.” Inspired in part by the “Cure for
Sleeplessness” chapter from the late Maeve Binchy’s Chestnut Street
I keep it simple: one thing a day that I feel blessed
by. I write one page only. If I don’t write all the way down to the
space between the last line and the edge of the page, I do not fuss. It has not
been continuous. The “compassion” part comes when I forgive myself for
missing a day and don’t simply throw in the towel, but pick up where I left
off. That has been a lesson all by itself.
Blessings have ranged from concepts
(learning, friendship) to actions (laughter, tears) to actual physical objects
(trees, rain, birds).
