Recording your history is a crucial component of journal writing. It provides context to your ideas, goals, and plans.*
Tenda began telling me how tired she was, with days full of work and studies, including extra degrees of difficulty – there wasn’t a lot of time for sleep.
At the end of hour-long conversation I simply had to mention that she had been wide awake the whole time. The reason being, she was telling me about what she loved and that mattered to her.
Our conversation was a verbal journal. It was a way for Tenda to be able to articulate the things that mattered to her and, through my questions, bring greater form and detail to these.
This is what journaling helps us to do.
When we get up in the morning and journal, we find ourselves joining in the story that we have been writing over many months, even years. We know where to pick up, where to take it next, how to lay it down in the evening with satisfaction ready to pick up again the following morning.
When we do this, it’s difficult to have bland moments:
‘A key component of writing big-picture is that it re-connects with your “why.”‘*
While we may think journaling is about changing ourselves, it’s really about changing our environment. As Ben Hardy points out:
‘Because the environment prompts your behaviour, it is the environment that needs to be disrupted.’*
If we begin the day in a bland way, we ought to not be surprised that we live in blandness. If we read blandness, if we don’t focus our thoughts, if we connect with bland people, we shouldn’t be taken aback by blandness.
Just beneath the surface, though, there is a dynamic self simply needing a dynamic environment to surface to.
Journaling is a dynamic environment.
The books we read can come from dynamic thinkers and activators. The people we seek out to connect with at work and in play and around our hobbies can be the dynamic people we need for disrupting our environment.
Ban the bland.
(*From Benjamin Hardy’s Willpower Doesn’t Work.)