Guidelines and a Simple Ritual

The point of the journal is to touch in to the creative and revelatory powers of your unconscious, and to strengthen your relationship to your inner world. The journal is a tool for self-knowledge and awareness, for inquiry and curiosity, for locating aliveness, for liberating ourselves from the tyranny of the past, our wounds and conditioning. It is all of these things, but it is not a performance, and rarely a place where perfection or excellent writing reside. Be gentle and open here. Let this be a truly safe space. 

1. View the process of journaling as you would meditation, as something that, when done sincerely and honestly, is transformative in and of itself, but may not yield the immediate and concrete 'results' you intend. Its benefits are revealed over time and in often subtle ways. Try to be receptive to its gifts. 

2. Refuse to judge or criticise yourself. The journal is a private, contained zone; What you write in it is for you and you alone. Introspection and self-examination are only constructive when met with curiosity and tenderness. Anything and everything is allowed, and the 'quality' of the writing is irrelevant. What matters are your focus, your honesty, and the depth of your listening. Let this be an opportunity to play, to experience a space of pure creation, if only for a few minutes. 

3. Let go of what you've written for at least 24 hours. A week is better. A month is great. Finish the writing and close the book. After a stretch of entries, you can designate a specific time to go back and look, but I strongly suggest that you not subject what you've just written to analysis, editing, dis-assembly, or any other kind of critical review. If good writing happens in a journal it's often purely by accident. 'Good' writing is not the point. You're letting ideas and feelings and images arise. They are tender shoots; don't rip them up because they're not fully formed. Dispense with perfectionism. Don't re-read, correct, re-do. Let things grow and see what new awareness they bring. 

4. As an initial practice, I recommend 15 minutes minimum, three days a week, for a period of a month. Daily is better if your schedule permits, but don't fall prey to all or nothing thinking. Once you've committed the time, completely let go within it. Allow no distractions or interruptions. Treat it as an inviolate and whole process. Don't get up, look at your phone, or the internet. All of it can wait. 

5. Allow other voices and characters to enter the mix. Draw images in the margins if you want. Hum and make sounds if they emerge organically.  The nonverbal realms of image and sound are a layer beneath language. Feel free to touch in to those spaces. 

6. Pay attention to physical sensations. Your inner knowing is constantly sending you messages through the body and nervous system, updating you on what direction it wants to go. Because your vitality is its central focus, it is beneficial to include and learn to translate its signals. If you are recalling a past event or have to make a decision, note what's happening somatically as you write - what you're feeling and where. Write it down in whatever language is available to you.  It will offer clues as to how you really feel about your circumstance, the people in it, and where you need to be.

7. If you unearth a major emotional trigger, please STOP writing. Feel and digest that emotion. Don't plough through. Feeling fully is the Great Work. Let yourself cry, or be angry or in despair. Or perhaps it's big joy or ecstasy? Don't squash them. Let them take you. Try not to dissociate or distract yourself. Be with it completely. Stay present and pay attention to your body. Move if it helps you. In the tradition I study, emotion is a treasure trove of vital energy and information. When we finally feel and express trapped emotions and sensations, we release their life force and wisdom. As long as you can greet what arises with compassion, feeling fully will transform you. The journal can wait. 

A simple ritual...

Rituals are about creating a boundary in which transformation - what some call magic - can occur. The boundaries for a journal practice, as outlined above, involve time, space and unbroken attention. Give yourself those three powerful gifts and see what magic happens. 

1. Find a notebook you enjoy writing in and dedicate it to your practice. I like mine soft-bound and large, about the size of a legal pad. Not fancy. Preferably black and college ruled.

2. Find a pen or pencil you enjoy writing with. I recommend free-hand for your practice over typing. Let your writing be a more slow and tactile process than everything else in your day. 

3. If you are doing a deep dive, a dream extraction, or another process that is meant to access your unconscious, try to do it early in the morning before you've had a ton of caffeine, internet exposure, or conversation. Nothing kicks you out of the subconscious like small talk, anxiety,  and stimulants. Go for the real juice. That said, do it anytime, as long as you won't be interrupted. Night writing can be incredibly grounding and calming, a way of collecting yourself and digesting the day. 

4. Date your page. Remind yourself of your intention to let this process serve you. Ask yourself what you need. I like the question, "Who is here?" or "What is really present/hot/alive/up for me right now?" Or choose a prompt that matches what you'd like to explore. It's helpful to have a list of prompts or exercises on hand to get you started, but then let the process take you where it will. Disorientation is the right orientation. 

5. Write for a minimum of 15 minutes without interruption. You can write longer if you wish, but make sure you have a definite end point. You can pause and think, but don't do anything but write. Try to be fully there, fully honest and fully listening. 

6. When the timer goes off, finish your thought, close your book and put it away. Don't look back. Let it be for now. 

7. Et voila! Take a moment to honour your discipline and commitment. If a word or phrase or image emerged from the writing and lingers, take it with you into your day. Let it rest in the back of your mind. Let it bloom in the dark. Please honour today, this moment, and whatever the process yielded - even if it seems mysterious to you now.