I love journaling. It’s where my inner vision comes to life in a space where it won’t be judged or critiqued, silenced, or stolen. It’s a space that is entirely my own. Though a journal is nothing but pieces of paper between some binding, it’s a temple. And I love to go there. 

If you don’t know what you think, or how you feel, or what you know or believe, writing in a journal will make all those things clear. The more you write, the more your true thoughts and feelings flow, and parts of yourself you may have never known were inside, come alive.

That’s why it’s sacred to me. It is my temple, my altar where I rest my mind and simply allow. 

I felt sad today. I felt frustrated, and upset at life, thinking that nothing will ever truly unfold for me, that I just simply don’t have the answers to what I should do to live a better life. So, after some more feelings and reflections, I put my pen to paper. I decided to focus on all the things I have loved and currently love over the course of my lifetime. It could be as small as a budding rose in the garden outside my window, or a matcha latte, or as big as the time I got to sing at Carnegie Hall when I was in the seventh grade. The perceived size doesn’t matter, just so long as the thing or experience brought me joy. It’s the feeling that counts. 

What I found in that short period of time was how my focus shifted. How the tears dried up, and in their stead was excitement and love. I’m not trying to sound cheesy, but sometimes to do the impossible is having a change in perspective. A conscientious effort to attune your attention to the things that make you happy. 

The first thing I wrote I loved were these photoshoots I used to do with my friends Julia and Amy in middle school and high school. We’d don random items of clothing, whether that was a tophat, a captain’s hat, a fedora (there were a lot of hats), a scarf, an umbrella, sunglasses, or a large metal chicken. (Yes, there was in fact, in my yard, a large metal chicken). It was fun to create images of ourselves in a moment in time, simply enjoying creating something that was not there before. It didn’t matter the weather, rain or shine, and afterwards we’d pile onto my bed with diet cokes from Newks Deli and edit the photos together. Those were a brief shimmer of joy in between the difficult times. 

From there the stream poured out of me. My pen never stopped writing for twenty minutes. It turns out that there are a lot of things I love and have loved, even though when I was crying and unsure I had stated with all sincerity that I didn’t know what I loved. The truth is, there has been so much love, and so much joy. Those things just needed to be looked at and recognized as being joyful or loving. I just needed to shift my perspective. I needed to realize the small things are just as important as the big. 

It’s funny how sometimes our own minds can rob us of the good. It can tell us we’re worthless, that we have never and will never accomplish anything. That because I haven’t won an Oscar, or I’m not wealthy (yet), or that I don’t have this thing or that thing, or whatever else, I don’t deserve to feel joy. But we do. Joy is our birthright. We are here to love our lives every day. This doesn’t mean we won’t have bad days, but to remember those days are just part of the beautiful tapestry that makes up our lives. There would not be love without grief. There would not be light without dark. 

So my message for today is, if you feel as I did earlier today, maybe give journaling a go. Write about the things you love, or make you feel good. Or if journaling isn’t your thing, then pick something in your environment, like a book, a game, a piece of clothing or furniture or art, that makes you smile. It can be anything. 

I don’t think the Universe knows the difference between enjoyment spent on using your favorite pen, vs finding the love of your life. The feeling is enough, and if my journaling is any indication, appreciating the love for one thing, begets more of the same.