Can It Be?

Day One: April 2020.

Today is the day, I started unpacking and dusting off several journals, I stored in small to medium boxes inside my closet. They unfortunately have been in my closet for years. There were ten or more crammed in these boxes. I don't understand what possesses people to give journals as gifts. Why are people so inconsiderate in assuming, instead of asking; do you have time to write your thoughts in a journal? Would you enjoy one? If they will take the time to ask me, I will be very blunt but not rude, and say; why would I waste my time writing down my life? A life, I don’t want to remember in the first place! I haven't figured out this crazy thinking, and really don't have the time to try. As I dusted and cleaned each journal, I felt a gentle nudge becoming an overwhelming desire, urging me to open one. Staring at the blank pages I drifted off in thought, fantasizing about what can really happen to a person if just for kicks, they wrote down their most intimate thoughts in a journal.

As I sit staring at the blank pages before me, I realize the fantasy is no fantasy! It is reality! Here I sit, writing in this journal!

Second Day: April 2020

Today, I find myself again, staring at journal pages but this time they are not blank. These words I see are not from some unknown person, I wrote them. I can feel these words as I read them, identifying with each one. They are stirring up unsettling feelings inside of me and becoming too real to ignore. I find no relief from this reality. Quickly, I knew I needed to make a decision. Either I continue writing in these journals or get rid of them, ASAP! I could, I thought; donate them to the misfortunate who has already succumbed to journal writing but even though this thought is perfectly moral and sane, I knew this idea would not bring me peace. Just donating them, would not help me figure out the reasoning for this annoying gift-giving idea. I just can’t shake the belief that there are too many people who think the same way. Am I the one that is missing out? An experiment might just be the ticket I need, to unravel this crazy idea people have. Is there joy from journal writing? Could I convince enough people to admit how wrong they are, using their valuable time, writing down their own thoughts no one will ever see? Time will tell.

Dear Journal,

What is this nonsense, people choose to indulge in………addressing a journal? Writing down thoughts to a journal? How could this behavior benefit and change a person’s life? Year after year people who know me and people who don’t, somehow have come to the conclusion, I would love a journal. Do they ever stop to think, writing in a journal, this idea they call romantic and rewarding demands my time! NO! They don’t, or I wouldn’t have boxes full of them! 

I just can’t understand my life. I feel as though I don't know any more about my life now than I did three years before. There are so many places to go, things to do, and people to meet, I just know in my lifetime I will never be able to accomplish it all. Today is turning out to be another one of those days where I have to admit, time; eludes me again. Writing, will it be able to give me more time? If it could, I just might be persuaded to change my mind about the whole idea of giving journals as gifts. ------Would I tell these intimate thoughts to others? ------ Maybe not.

Day Three: April 2020

I once read a poem by Robert Frost; titled: Bond and Free. In the poem he stated; “For thought has a pair of dauntless wings.” Frost spoke of thought, the way I have come to think about time. Time is dauntless/fearless and needs nothing with which to cling. So, time waits for no one, moving through life on wings. I have lived with the notion I will never have enough time for things I enjoy. Squeezing in and adding time, is this even possible?

Dear Journal,

For the third day in a row, without hesitating, I find myself writing in this book. It’s hard for me to believe, it just has not been very difficult to write down words describing how I feel or what is happening in my life. I am flabbergasted and disturbed at the feelings I am developing towards writing and how easy it is to write. Writing is proving it’s self to be, not inconvenient in any way. I must keep these thoughts to myself.

Day Four: April 2020

I know this is only the fourth day I have written in this journal and don’t want to admit this, but I am experiencing an unusual pulling towards doing so. Astonishingly, in this very brief time of writing, my excitement is growing. Addressing the journal, ‘Dear Journal’ is not as outlandish as I first thought. I found I have a longing to treasure this resource in which was too long, kept hiding in my closet. Lying right in front of me is a way to express myself, I might have never found. How frightening to think about. This journal I am holding in my arms, is secret. Only I know what is in it. This knowing is a strength I have never experienced before.

Dear Journal,

You listen and strangely enough, you hold tight my secret thoughts.

Day Five: April 2020

Dear Journal,

What is time? Is it a friend, a place? An invisible need we do not have enough of? Is there time that is free? I live my life taking advantage of time purposely handling it with little care, believing, it will always be there for me. Confronting it, I find myself struggling, scared and weary. Taking time to stop and look back on my life, I realize, I have never expressed these thoughts to anyone. No one knows my thoughts about time and the many struggles I have had, living a life battling time in every breath I take. Shhhh…….journal, let’s keep these thoughts just between us.

Day Six: April 2020

Dear Journal,

I am sorry I have been gone so long. Life has overcome me and swallowed up my time. I wasn’t able to make time free for me. I am saddened by the absence I allowed between us. Too many silent days. 

Day Seven: April 2020

After reading entry six I wonder what has gotten into me. What is happening to me? I am talking as though my journal is real. In a weird kind of way, I feel as though it can understand what I am saying. Before any gossip gets started and passed around by someone who has sneakily read my journal, I want to make very clear to everyone, I know this journal is not able to carry on a conversation with me!

Day Eight: April 2020

I know my journal does not have the capability to comprehend and share my thoughts with me, this is true, but I have discovered through writing, a freedom is given ----- a freedom to express one's self, by revealing your own secrets to ------ yourself. I know I must be talking in riddles or nonsense but what is happening to me is allowing me to open the door to my inner being. Would I have been able to do this without journaling? I believe not. My closed mind would have never allowed me to stop and examine my own heart. No one on earth can take away this incredible finding from me, an awakening by the power of the written word! How incredible this revelation is!

Dear Journal,

If I can be so bold with my writing, I would like to share the excitement I’m emboldened with. I picture myself saturated with an overwhelming knowing inside of me. It’s as if I possess an inward mirror reflecting the deep secrets I have held from many and myself. Go, look into a mirror and gaze on your reflection. The mirror will not fail, in reflecting back your image. The image you see is the real you! The deep secrets I write, reveal to me the feelings no one ever hears about. Can journaling help everyone understand his or her inner beings? Can it open up the world to seeing the real you? 

Day Nine: May 2020

Dear Journal,

It has been a while since I last wrote. Honestly, I must tell, I put every journal back into the boxes and back into the closet. I had to stop writing; I needed time away. Badly, I needed space to think through what I have written down on these pages. Where will this end for me? Do I really see something beautiful out of writing in a journal? This experiment I dove into, resulted in a change I wasn't ready for. I didn't expect to be affected in such a dramatic way. Finding an answer to my experiment, that I did. What I admittedly thought of others, is now gone! They are no longer inconsiderate to give a journal for a gift. The experiment did not fail in giving an answer. It did show the reasoning behind the madness in giving journals as gifts. So, what does this mean in my life? My thoughts have changed in what I believe about journal writing. I can't deny this change. Can this very same experiment produce the same results in others, as it did for me? It could be possible.

Day Ten: May 2020

Dear Journal,

Today I have unpacked all the journals and placed them on a bookshelf in my bedroom. There they will stay, always. My hope is to never have a day go by without taking the time to write. People aren’t crazy in giving journals as gifts…………….. They are brilliant!!!!! 

.