No matter how our relationship with the journal may change, the urgency to write ourselves never will. At a time of irreverent technology, divisive and distracting media, legalized terror for black and brown bodies, and rampant spiritual attacks, no better climate has been set for us to take our journals and document our existence in these combustible times. This isn’t about “feeling” like we want to journal, but about acknowledging that there has already been violence committed against us to get us to regard our past with flippancy, our present with apathy, and our futures with dissonance. Given its analog nature, journaling forces us to recall ourselves away from digitized definitions of success and failure, to return to the oldest relationship one can have with silence, paper, and pen to put our story down. This is heirloom stuff. History stuff. Overcoming stuff. Memory stuff. Futuristic stuff.
More than journaling.