Ten years, 3 million words?
I think everyone should journal. This is *the* hill I'd die on.
I've been journaling an average of a thousand words a day for the past 10 years. And I think you should too.
It started with origami cranes. When I was young, I used to enjoy collecting little remnants of my experiences, a coping mechanism for the passage of time—little bands, stuffed animals, photographs—really anything. But one day, amidst a dreary class, I found myself sitting next to a swath of sticky notes. My mind started brewing with ideas. I scribbled brief notes, little sweet memories I wanted to remember, and tucked them in the belly of origami cranes. Soon, this ritual found its way into my everyday routine until nearly a flock of a hundred cranes found residence in my school locker.
A few months later, upon opening them, I was hooked. It was like uncovering a time capsule nestled right at my fingertips. So, I resolved to refine this prototype. I started to write more. A lot more. And in real-time. Little me sure had lots to say.
What began as a means to craft my own intimate souvenirs morphed into my most cherished practice for the decade to come. As it turns out, journaling came with a whole lot of benefits too.
On writing a novel
I live my life as a novel, writing itself in real-time, and I take this vocation seriously. My default is to say ‘yes’ to everything—except when the rigors of work discipline call. I am always out in different places, increasing my surface area of luck—I could stumble upon a new acquaintance, pick up a new idea, or even veer off onto a new career or life trajectory. It gives me something to write about. As the younglings say, anything for the plot.
This lens also equips me with an unusual tolerance for bad experiences. I even vaguely nurture a sense of welcome towards them. When my orthopedist told me I’d have to get surgery on both feet, leaving me bed-ridden for close to a year, I found myself intrigued by the novelty. I can rarely find myself in my room for a whole day, let alone for a whole year. Knowing I’d be in a lot of pain, recalibrating to an entirely altered lifestyle, and the inevitability of emerging a different person at the saga’s end, oddly kindled a spark of eagerness within me—it was a spicy subplot to my novel. It made for a better story. And this chapter, with no shortage of bittersweet moments, unfolded as a favorite in my life’s novel (a tad bit masochistic, I’ll admit).
On agency
Nothing like being stuck in the rising action. What a tease. Because of journaling, I’ve become more agentic. I can’t just write that I want to do XYZ; I actually have to do XYZ. Otherwise, I make it obvious to myself as I write about it every day that I am just all talk. No cheap words are allowed.
On being present
I believe I am a lot more present because I know I’d be upset with myself if I can’t recall the minute details of my day, down to the exact phrasings in a conversation. A good novel thrives on the details, after all!
Moreover, as an amateur writer, I know I am not going to successfully capture the texture of my day—the felt essence—without being wholly present. It is upon me to attune to my surroundings and acknowledge this is the only way I can fully capture the day’s platter, and my written souvenir only provides a modest sample. I’ve become more appreciative of the actual sensation of experiencing life as a result—no true substitute to living.
On paying attention to the details
Like I said, a good story craves the juicy details. I want to know I can jump into a page and revisit an experience vividly. I need the entire ensemble. Who was there, what did they wear, what words danced off their lips, how were their mannerisms, what whirlpool was spinning inside of me, how did I feel, what moments were ripe for a playful dissection, etc. I have trained myself to have a pretty good memory because of this.
On being a better friend
Because journaling makes me more present and encourages me to pay attention to the details, I remember minute details about my friends. Oh yeah, you had your wisdom teeth removal two years ago around this time. I strongly suspect I have a better mapping of the people in my life because I write about them.
On meditation
I find myself overstimulated nearly every day. It often feels like I’m drinking from the firehose. Without the cathartic release that writing provides—a euphemism for the actual purge that transpires on paper—I’d likely be on a first-name basis with institutionalization.
I experience life quite intensely. Journaling has become my most sacred form of meditation every day. It has become part of my homeostasis.
On self-love<3
I almost always prefer my own company. And I believe journaling is the main reason I feel this way—a lush intimacy grows as I get to know myself every day. It is very much like being in a long-term relationship with yourself—you just want to go back to them, be away from the rest of the world, and collapse. It’s a cherished slice of quality time.
On compassion<33
With the amount of stimuli I get, a thousand words are too little. But there are certainly days when I am feeling gloomy, and suspect writing about it would make me gloomier. I don’t tether myself to a thousand-word quota. There isn’t one, to begin with! The pages unfurl to accommodate my whims, sometimes cradling as many as 5,000 words, often filled with stream-of-consciousness narratives or poetic musings on simple moments—other times nestling just 20.
One of the points of journaling for me is to feel like I’m writing to my best friend, building a relationship with her, and through her, I can revisit my life anytime. I already have the discipline to write every day. And I look forward to it. Imposing arbitrary rules—how I write, how much I write—defeats the essence of this intimate dialogue.
Through writing, I am showing myself an act of compassion every day, providing myself the wonderful freedom of choosing to write however much I please. And when I please—day or night. This is how it should be.
Sneak a note inside of an origami crane. See for yourself what magic awaits at your fingertips.
This is the 2nd post for the Write of Passage cohort 11. Prompt: Write an article that tells your readers to do something.
Nice essay. I too will die on this hill.