I have been keeping a journal since 1984. This was something I saw a missionary priest friend doing in Pakistan. I liked the idea of sitting down to write and reflect at the beginning and/or end of the day. There is something beautiful about a clean white page and also having a record of thoughts about and struggles with life. It is even better when you can look over the past pages and see how answers have appeared to the questions you have been asking.
My first journal was a large lined A5 exercise book, which lasted me for 10 years, give or take. I did not write every day, nor even every year. I did seem to write most when I was down or feeling alone. The journal became a friend to whom I could pour out my feelings and who would sometimes speak back to me, in tones I recognised as God or intuition, or conscience. Or a confusing trinity of the three in one. Learning to recognise the voices was part of the lesson of journaling. Try it.
This new electronic means of journaling or blogging holds so many more possibilities - or none. But that is part of the joy of the journey - not knowing what lies ahead; not always knowing where it will lead; openness to all sorts of possibilities, people and places. This time I hope to share my joys as well as my sorrows. If you are willing to travel with me in hope I welcome you as a companion on my journey.
