Of Journal Beginnings

I've been journaling since 1978, the year my son was born. In 1993, after I read the book, At a Journal Workshop by Dr. Ira Progoff, I started using the word processor to journal. I found the ability to edit, revise, and print on my computer to be an improvement over the handwritten journals I had been keeping until then.

Using the Journal Workshop book as a guide, I began a Daily Log and a Dream Journal. Although I had never attended any of the Intensive Journal Workshops, I found the book to be instructive and practical, and was able to apply the method of using Twilight Imagery, or as Carl Jung call it, Active Imagination, to my journaling.

Progoff’s take on journaling goes beyond writing circles around one’s daily life. His book leads the journaler to work on her life as though it were a work of art, recalling major turning points along the way, noting the steppingstones (autobiographical, images of objective sequence of events), and significant scenes from one’s life that one followed, intersections and roads not taken. All this is done in a notebook filled with blank lined pages.

He asks the journal writer the question “Where are you now?” as a point to begin reflecting. There’s a section to record Dialogue between one’s self and one other, perhaps someone we work with or are in relationship with. A major activity directed by Progoff is the recording of dreams and dream imagery, and combining these symbols and feelings with the events of our daily lives. Through all these various sections of the intensive journal, Progoff leads the writer into depths of the unconscious, bringing to the surface awareness and understanding, resulting in open communication between one’s self and one’s soul.

This is an excerpt from one article printed in Psychology Today back in 1981: For those who want to plumb the sources of meaning, Progoff likes to use a metaphor that many find helpful. He says that there's an underground stream of images and recollections within each of us. The stream is nothing more or less than our interior life. When we enter it, we ride it to a place where it wants to go. He says this is not a discursive method, not analytic: "There's no neat wrap-up; you don't end up with 'insight.' It's an event, and when it's happened, your life is different." 

from "The Way of the Journal"  by Robert Blair Kaiser at http://www.intensivejournal.org/articles/main.htm

That’s my understanding of it. I just wanted to pass on this piece of information for those of you who haven't heard of him or for those who might want to get into some really deep transformational writing.

It's been at least eight years since I practiced his method of journaling. Even now I am not ready to post that kind of writing on the web! Writing with a sense of privacy while one muddles through all the tangles and knots of living, trying to make sense, putting things into perspective, is needed sometimes.

I think my paper journals are here to stay.

(see http://journals.aol.com/bgilmore725/Wanderer/entries/808 and http://journals.aol.com/bgilmore725/Wanderer/entries/721)

What 2-hour delay?

The forecast before I went to bed last night said there was possibility that by morning there could be a quarter inch ice accumulation in the northern parts of our county, and according to the map, that meant mostly the counties north and west of us. My husband travels to the northern most parts of this county to get to work, and into the county north of ours, so I left him a note before I went to bed (he had retired earlier) telling him of the latest weather forecast knowing that he might encounter ice at 5 a.m. on his way to work this morning.

He called me at about 6 this morning and told me he had gotten to work just fine, that all he saw was rain.

Based on that information, I got ready for school and went in at 7:15 a.m. I saw a couple teachers in the hallway who also had gotten there early. Actually, many of us get there between 6:30 and 7:00 a.m. to begin our morning preparations.

I was so glad it was Friday, and happy to be getting some planning time in. I had turned on the laminator in the workroom as soon as I arrived so it would be hot by the time I came back to use it. After I put my bags and things away, and exchanged thoughts with another EC teacher, I walked back to the workroom and laminated a set of main idea sentence starters I had made for my fifth grade writing class, cut them out, and placed them beside the 5th grade classroom door. Then, I pulled a set of leveled readers for my fourth graders for next week's focus on theme, and copied the assessment and an activity to help them understand theme. Finally, I reorganized a book shelf to make room for the additional texts and teacher manuals I would need to use with the 4th grade math and reading classes I'll be starting on Monday. Wow, I thought. I got all this done in just.... and I looked up at the clock because surely any minute now the kids would be running down the hall excited to be in their classrooms on a cold dreary Friday.

The clock showed 8:30... was it broke? Am I reading it wrong? Maybe it's 7:30... but no it couldn't be. I couldn't have been working for only 15 minutes. I checked my watch, and it also showed 8:30.

Then it occurred to me... naw, it couldn't have been a delay... surely not. There was nothing but rain out there... so I sought out another teacher and asked her, "Was there  a delay today?"

"Yes, two hours," she replied. She lives in my neighborhood.

"No one called to tell me." We have a phone tree and we are supposed to call the teacher's name below ours on the list to make sure everyone gets whatever message is being sent around.

"Yeah, no one called me either, but I saw it on the tv and the internet." she said.

"Well, my husband had told me there was only rain on the roads, so I didn't even think to look at the tv to see if the schools were on a delay," I defended my ignorance on the matter.

So, this morning I was given a gift of time which I sorely needed to plan for next week's classes, particularly in light of the fact that I will be adding three classes I had not been teaching before. Winters have a way of giving us what we need when we need it.

 

Of A Student Who Loves My Books

I told three of my students today that beginning Monday they would not be coming to me for their reading class, but would be going to another room and another teacher (one they already know). I explained why I was doing it, and they weren't very happy with it.

"You mean we'll never get to see you again?" one boy asked woefully.

"No, we'll see each other every day, at breakfast, and in the hallways. You'll be right next door."

Another student quietly refrained from reacting too quickly, then said, "Uh, you know what I think about that?"

I asked him what he thought about it. He was being very calm, although his forehead was wrinkled in thought.

"I think I should tell you what I'll miss most about coming to your room."

"What will you miss most, G...?"

"Well, you probably aren't going to like it when I tell you, and I don't want to hurt your feelings."

He's always saying things in a roundabout fashion. It amuses me when he has something to say.

"That's okay. Just tell me."

"We-e-e-ll," he drew in a breath, always too serious when he points out something very important. He looked around the room, he glanced over his shoulders, then looked back at me. "I'm really going to miss coming here because of your books. I like checking them out. That's the only reason I like coming to your room."

"So the only reason you like coming to my classroom is because I let you check out books?" I asked, somewhat deflated, but knowing the student as I knew him, not offended.

"Yeah, mmhmm. I love your books." 

"Well," I thought out loud, choosing my words carefully because this boy does not forget anything except his homework. "Maybe we can work out some kind of arrangement with the other teacher so you can still check out my books."

He smiled.

The way I see it, if the kid is in love with my books, I'd like to keep him in that frame of mind until he leaves elementary school. After that, it is up to the middle school teachers to foster him with successful reading experiences.

Nurturing a love for books and a love for learning is a holy and fragile mission, particularly with children who have reading difficulties. When a child encounters difficulties with reading, and he doesn't get the help he needs early enough, he begins a path of frustration, humiliation, and rejection. Every time he picks up a book, he will be frustrated, which will eventually turn to anger and self-loathing because his friends can read but he can't. Unless someone recognizes the dilemma and helps such a student out with the particular area of reading difficulty he has, be it word recognition, decoding, or comprehension, he will come to reject books, and likely will give up even trying because of the humiliation it causes him. He may come to reject efforts to help him overcome it if is ignored for too long.

So when this little fella' says to me he loves my books, I know he still has a chance.

Growing Pains at My Age?

It doesn’t fit anymore

This skin I’m in,

This hat I wear,

This person I’ve been.

 

It all feels so strange

Like it's someone elses

Like it’s too big or too tight

In all the wrong places.

 

I squirm at the discomfort

I itch with the stretch

From the pull of the world

I twist and push against.

 

I yearn to be free

Like I must have felt once

When I was younger

And without shape,

Before I knew I was.

 

As I twist, itching and squirming

I feel something new yet unknown

Something heavy and unseen:

A birthing pain in my neck

Stretching and pushing me out.

Of Flames of Steel

I decided I should check out Latisha's website. I haven't seen it in awhile, and I thought, hey, I could add her to my favorite sites list. After all, she is a happening young woman in the world of bike painting and engraving, a fine artist in every sense of the word. I want to talk about her so others can read about her, check her art work out. There is only one word for my niece: she is AWESOME!

I take that back... she is beyond awesome. She had more talent in high school than some artists have when they graduate from art school. Okay, so I'm a proud aunt.

If you have ever watched "American Chopper," particularly back in 2003-04, you saw her work. One of the last bikes she painted was the David Mann bike. Using an engraving technique that she developed, she painted the bike in flames of crimson, and recieved outstanding reviews.

I remember when she was a toddler, when her father was killed in a motorcycle accident on his way home from work, leaving her and four other siblings without a dad. TC was only 10 months old at the time. She doesn't remember the man who passed on his artistic talent to her. He lives on in his daughter today, there is no doubt in my mind.

Those were hard years for the family living in San Bernardino, California. When I first met her father, before she was born, I liked him right away. A generous man with an easy laugh, he fell in love with my sister and her four children. TC was born a year or so later, destined to follow her father's footsteps. None of us knew until she was older, but her mother probably saw it before anyone else, that indeed, she had an exceptional eye for observing details. She pursued art in college, and I don't know all the details of her struggles and successes since then.

I just know that she is living the dream of her father, and the irony is that she is recognized around the country, possibly around the world, for her motorcycle art work.

You can see samples of her many talents at the Flames of Steel site listed in the right column, or click here at:

http://www.lwoodcustoms.com/default.htm .

Once you are there, you can browse through her portfolio where you will see links to her designs for bikes, guitars, helmets, automotive, engraving, illustrations, portraiture, her sketchbook, and yes, even body art. I didn't know there was a demand for body art. I always thought body art meant tattoos, but obviously, I'm out of touch! Warning: You must be an adult to view her body art!

And if you like her work as much as I do, you will be able to order prints of some of her pieces. I love the print "Studying Michaelangelo," because when I see it, I see my niece, relaxed in her skin, in her art, in her life.

I think she has a future in illustration. I'm waiting for her first book to come out. Then she'd be living out my dream!

PS... I'm hoping she'll send me some pictures of her other works to post here. Come back and see if I have them.

 

 

Of Making Surface Changes

If you have been a regular visitor since August, you might be thinking that you came to the wrong journal page, but don't go!! It's the right journal, but with a new look.

I have added pictures of some of my earlier journal covers. The first two are made from sketch books, the third one is a typical spiral notebook. Once I discovered the convenience of composition books, I have not strayed from the course.

I made some changes to the appearance of my aol journal. I wanted a different look, a different feel to it.

My paper journals, like the ones in the pictures, change looks every time I start a new one. I use the standard composition book because I write so much and the comp books are less expensive than the fancy cloth-covered journals. The pages are sewn into the cover for durability. The size is just right to fit into a bag, not too small that it prevents comfort when I write while traveling, and not too large that it is conspicuous wherever I go. It's the just-right size for me.

Just before I have written on the last page of a journal, I start looking for another one. Generally, I need only look as far as my bookcase where I keep a supply of them ready to write. I buy them when they go on sale.

When I first open up a new, blank composition book, I immediately start thinking about where I am in my life, in my spiritual walk, in my work... it's all connected. I try to come to an understanding of how I feel, and to capture it all in an image, a word or a phrase... something that sums up what I understand or what I want to know.

When I am successful at this exercise, I often come up with an idea for a cover design that explains the purpose of the new journal. It may be a poem I have cut out, a picture that symbolizes the idea. I use pictures from calendar pages and magazine ads. The cover might become a collage, or I might draw an illustration in permanent marker. If it is fitting, I paint swirls, dots, circles, stars, or other universal symbols in fabric paint, but only if it lends itself to the idea, the design, the overall sense of the look I'm going for. Though the entire process of creating a cover may take a few days or a few hours, the influence such reflecting has on the direction of the journal is apparent.

Sometimes, the cover grows of its own accord, without any conscious planning. Such spirit-led designs provide the insight and impetus I need to begin writing on  unpenned pages. Often I don't understand my choices of words or pictures or drawings placed on the cover until the journal's last page. At some later time, when I look back at the overall writing in the journal and ponder the meaning of the cover's image, I am struck by the truth of its contents and the direction my life has taken, and of how the cover represents a summation of it all. It is as though I already knew where I was going, and I went there.

The fact is, I often sit and ask myself, "Where am I going?" or "Why am I doing this?" and when I'm really brave I'll ask, "Lord, what do you want me to do with this?" I should ask that one more often, though. I don't  because I am so afraid that He will answer me, and I won't like the answer.

I know He works like that. But I'm saving commentary on that concept for another entry.

Each day, when I sit down to write, the first thing I see is the cover of my journal. Often I pause and think about the images or the words I have glued (with rubber cement) to the cover, and this no doubt inspires me as I take up the pen. By the time I write on the last page of a journal (anywhere from two to five months, depending upon how much time I actually was able to sit down and write), I can look back at all the written pages and see that the images and words on the cover acted like a guiding question or thought.

I've been thinking, therefore, how I can carry over this kind of artistic approach to my aol journal page. Certainly, I have available at my fingertips images from literally thousands of sources. I have this weekvisited several journals that are very inspiring. Journalers or bloggers are using symbols and images in their entries to highlight and accentuate their personal interests. Some of the images flash, move across the page, and some play music! Impressive stuff.

I don't know how they do it, if they do it on their own, or someone does it for them. I am new at this sort of thing. I don't want to get into fluffing up the page, but I do want to continue to add something creative, some color, some images, some inspiration to support the words from time to time, whether for fun or for emphasis. Probably, in the beginning, once I learn some trade-secrets, I might go overboard a little as I experiment with the technology of it all. But the goal is to learn more about what I can do, and select from my options.

I discovered today that I could change the colors of the page, so I did. I selected a three column format. I added Favorite Sites to the right. By the way, those Other Journals are not mine. They belong to other J-land journalers that I like to visit. I will keep adding to this list as I find interesting journals. You are welcome to check them out as well.

I still don't know how to add pictures where I want them without using the little picture window provided by aol. I would like to place pictures at the end of an entry, or on this side and then the other, or have several pictures placed throughout, but no can do that here.

Does anyone have any suggestions?

I have always wondered what other journalers do, what kind of journals they write in, if they create their own covers... so if you are reading this and you know what I am talking about, take a picture of your journal covers, and leave me a link so I can see them.

And I thought I didn't have anything to write about today!!

Weekend Assignment #88

Weekend Assignment #88: Talk about something people have today that you wished you had when you were a kid.

from http://journals.aol.com/johnmscalzi/bytheway/

I would love to have had a VCR recorder when I was a teen-ager back in 1968.

That was when I fell in love with two cowboys on a TV western series, Lancer. I wanted to watch the shows over and over again, but of course, there was no way to do that. After two years, the show was cancelled.

But I had initiative and inspiration! Before the show went off the air, I had taped a few of the shows on my dad's reel-to-reel audio tape deck. I even cut out the commercials. I could "watch" the show as often as I wanted, replay the stories that captivated my heart as I imagined Johnnie and Scott in their various heroic, romantic, or stoic scenes while I listened to the music, the voices of the characters, and the sound effects. I loved westerns back then.

So did my dad, which is why he probably let me make the tapes in the first place. After a few episodes, I stopped taping them because it was a lot of work to get my family to cooperate, and it took time to make the tapes. There could be no talking, laughing, moving about during the taping since every sound was picked up by the sensitive mic as I held it up to the speaker on the TV. I had six younger siblings at the time, and I don't remember how I managed to get even one entire episode without all the background noise there surely must have been. A lot of work and patience.

About twenty years later, when my husband and I bought our first VCR player/recorder, I remember thinking I sure could have used one of them when I was a kid!

I found the picures above at this website. There were other websites, of course, featuring summaries of each episode, but you all are search savvy.

http://www.peterbrown.tv/lancerfanfic.html