Friday, January 22, 2010

22 Jan 2010

There isn't anything in particular today. It is just that I felt I should do some writing.

This evening, I borrowed Stephanie Dowrick's Creative Journal Writing. I think I am beginning to like her writings. Her writings seem to have a calming effect on me that urge me to reflect deeper on the complexities of life itself.

Somehow, reading the first few pages of the book reminded me that I could do more in terms of writing a journal. There were certain very dark periods of my life that I think journalling had helped me get in touch with some very deep emotions. Those were confusing moments filled with anguish, lots of doubts, and sadness. There were possibly glimpses of hope to find hope.

When I was doing spring cleaning about more than a year ago, I threw away two of journals in which there were very significant entries. Maybe I felt I was like the composer, Brahms, who would burn away the not-so-good works and the works that were not meant for public's eyes. I did not quite regret throwing them away. Afterall, I rarely reread those entries. It was just perhaps that only if my memory could continue to serve me well, then I would be able to access the memories of what had been written on those entries that have been thrown away. Those were the entries that bear witness to the ups-and-downs of my life, my darker sides, my failures and my triumphs.

Life is beginning to seem so complex. Yet it can be so simple if we live by certain values. What used to seem just a matter of black and white, now seems to be a gradation of greys. It's not that when we are older, that our eyes can't see well enough. It may be exactly that we are older, our evolving wisdom helps us see the finer nuances that we had not seem to see. That in the brightness of the day, there is darkness. In the times of hope, there is uncertainty underlying. In the times of confusion, there is a time to help one reflect on one's purposes.

Then here I write, with no intention to be understood. If any reader were to read this and don't understand, it is perfectly normal. Yet I hope in writing, I could lend you a glimpse of me, and how writing about journal writing got me thinking about life itself.


EastCoastLife said...

There is no black and white these days. Everything has been twisted and changed to suit each individual. It's a scary world and getting worse.

oceanskies79 said...

Eastcoastlife: Thanks for visiting and commenting.

Is there any way that each of us could do our part to at least make the world a little better?

pinkie said...

Agree with this "It may be exactly that we are older, our evolving wisdom helps us see the finer nuances that we had not seem to see."

Jammie J. said...

As an INFJ, writing is an innate part of who we are... I find that I need to write, whether publicly or privately, it cleanses my thoughts to have them out and on paper.

Sometimes, if I feel nostalgic, I will go back and read what I wrote. It is times like that when I can see how far I've come, what I've accomplished. Yet, other times I see that there is a thread of similarity... I'm not such a different person as I was back then, perhaps just better expressed today.

oceanskies79 said...

Jammie: Thank you for sharing. It reminds maybe it helps that I allow myself the permission to write more often. It helps to hear from a fellow INFJ.

Pinkie: Thanks Pinkie for sharing. :)