Why I Write

I've been keeping a personal journal for as long as I remember being able to write.  I don't remember how it felt then.  Except, I felt pretty cool watching my thoughts transpire on a page.  It's hard not to care about the handwriting, spelling, legibility and content at first.  

When I was a young mother, I thought I should keep track of events when my girls were growing and developing.  Some journals were used keep track of trips.  I have this fantasy of my girls finding a detail in my journal, after I'm long gone, and retracing my steps to find the little spot I loved and visit my happy spirit there. (I'd much rather take them there myself, but I have crazy romantic ideas, sometimes)

I kept journal entries on my students, to help me reflect on their circumstances.  I didn't want to forget how important those details were.  Sometimes, empathizing with one heavy load they carried, was the key to getting them to focus on learning. 

I even have journals with craft things I want to make.  I cut out ideas from catalogs, sketch them, or take a photo of one I've already created.  I think it would be great to make a photo journal of all my favorite rocks, pieces of driftwood........ 

  

Grieving can fill many pages and empty a lot of pain and fears from my heart.  My hospice counselor had a powerful quote I've hung onto:  Name it, Claim it, Stop it, Don't blame it.  It does help to process thoughts that aren't my own or are from my past.  Some learned behaviors need to be re-taught.  Like a better computer program I have to get use to.  It takes awhile to adjust.  Or, a new cell phone that takes some getting use to in order for it to be helpful.

My favorite writing is when I feel like I'm talking to my best friend.  I don't feel my best friend is judging my words.  It's just a one-sided dialog with the best listener in the world.  I write down Ideas I want to share, refresh in my mind or get out of my system.  If I find a really good book, I write the author's take on things I don't want to forget.  I go back to them when I want to quote them in my blog writings.  If I never go back to them, it still makes me feel smart and special to log in and write.  I almost can feel the pride the monks must have felt keeping perfect records in their beautiful handwriting long ago, shutting out the world while they write word by word.    

Journals can be a potent truth serum.  When I code the names I don't want to be known, the truth is safe forever.  The names and places are changed to protect the innocent.  Like when Cindy Sweeney and I use to use the military codes to pass secret notes to each other in sixth grade.  I still have my little notebook of the C is for Charlie-type reminders we shared.  I don't think we gave it a thought that the nuns wouldn't have cared if they could read the notes or not.  They would have punished us if they would have caught us, because it meant we weren't working in class.  

Some of my most heart-felt poems are in my journals.  Poetry is another way to protect the innocent by not naming or pointing a finger at the culprit that broke my heart or shunned me.  The writing becomes a "letting go" of baggage.   I have often felt forgiveness begin to warm my heart, as I was finishing a difficult poem or writing.  Sometimes, it was just a ray of understanding or a piece of hope I need to rekindle or discover.  Writing is channel for these to deliver to me.

This blog is one more avenue for me to know who I am.  Beginning from my roots, up my trunk, to my branches as I reach for space and sunlight to grow and thrive.  Only then can I share my gift of shade and shelter for others.