Morning Pages

This weekend was amazing. There was no stress because the housing decision had been made; (#ladiesofmeriwether #together4ever) we had fun as a group celebrating Hannah's birthday with dressing up for pizza and brownies and ice cream; and I felt creatively satisfied because I had made the brilliant decision to spend a little money on myself and sign-up for a writing intensive with one of my all time favorite bloggers (Hannah Brencher is the girl you wish you could be IRL-friends with) The shortest three hours of my life were the ones I spent plugged into my laptop with a Taylor Swift note book in hand and LaCroix and Sour Patch Kids as fortification. I learned so much, and came away encouraged and on fire to return to this little thing I used to do called blogging. But I knew coming away from that experience that I had to find something to do that would seal the deal, locking in that precious knowledge for long term. Otherwise, those three hours on that particular Saturday would just turn into your average mountain-top, student life camp high followed by the crash of falling back into your old ways.

Enter the morning pages.
I've often heard of the practice, from various creatives, of using the wakening hours to mind dump in a journal and sift out the thoughts that way, but I've never done it intentionally. Author Julie Cameron has devised a "system", a Morning Pages (capitalized) that involves specific rules, but artists have been journaling since journals were invented, so ...  yeah.
 As I was writing this morning's pages, starting to feel my creaky wheels turning smoother and smoother I was reminded of how when I was in college I wrote in journals endlessly. I had started the habit by requirement in a creative writing class at Nashville State, and I still have that first journal. I remember how awkward writing it was then , especially knowing that my professors eyes would be at least scanning it every month. I didn't know what to say half of the time, but for some reason, I kept up the habit after that class ended. At Bryan my journals became my best friend. I wrote in the mornings at breakfast to keep people from talking to me when I didn't want conversation. I wrote observations, thoughts and snippets of stories about my day. I'm glad for the detail in which I recorded Friday open dorm shenanigans and long talks with friends. I wrote to keep my self from going mad in statistics (and kept a detailed log of every tie Dr. Simpson ever wore that semester.) Writing in my journal led to my desire to take creative non-fiction with Dr. Impson (the BEST LIFE CHOICE I EVER MADE) which led to starting this very blog.

My very best years on this blog have been the years when I was actively journaling, and I don't believe that's a coincidence.

I don't really know why I've fallen out of the journalling habit, though I suspect the 40-hr work week has something to do with it. But I am not going to blame work for my lack of discipline. If I can make time to watch all 7 seasons of Parks and Rec every April, I can make time to write a couple pages every morning.

So in the way that I like to do, I am making a promise to myself by writing this post and publishing it for the world to see. I promise to write my morning pages every day this week. Just this week. I'll promise myself the next week when we get there. Baby step by baby step, I will cultivate this thing I love.

yours in scribbling,

No comments