In the last week, I heard another pre-determined set of questions that take a different approach to reflective journaling. They came from chapter three, “Hello To the Imagination,” in Padraig O Tauma’s In the Shelter.
How would you describe today?
Have you seen anything interesting on the way?
Is it working?
What I like about this set of questions is their openness. They create reflection that is deeper and broader, not solely focused on what happened after the alarm sounded.
Asking yourself to think about what you saw interesting is a different way of remembering. It’s not asking you to judge. Basically, what caught your attention, what made you curious. Feels like neuroplasticity in action.
Yes, the vagueness of “it” in question three is intentional. You get to decide what “it” is. You might need more than a page for that one occasionally.
Personally, I don’t see myself using this set of questions regularly. But they make a great tool, one I’ve chosen to add to the box.
About this time last Saturday, I was sitting in the stands of Washington-Grizzly Stadium on the campus of the University of Montana in Missoula waiting for the Zootown Challenge 5k to start. Not too sure how the race would go due to fighting off altitude sickness the last 18 hours, I was anxious to get moving.
When they separated the competitors based on expected pace, I ended up standing by this guy, one of several competitors wearing the same shirt.
I asked, “Tell me about the shirt so many of you are wearing. Are you part of a team?”
“No,” he smiled. “We’re just all here to remember my brother, the guy on our shirts. He died last year. He ran this race the first two years it was put on, so we’re all here to honor him.”
“That’s really amazing. There are a lot of you. How many are there?”
“54. And he’s laughing right now. This is something I never do.”
We chuckled at that thought and ended the short chat with encouragement. Basically, no matter what, we’re going to get this done. The line started moving, and we eventually separated. I passed him once on the course with a nod to keep moving.
Nothing was said about how his brother died. A year later, that wasn’t important to share in a random conversation with a stranger. What was most clear was the brother left behind loved his lost brother and was doing things now because of what he saw and remembers. I’m guessing being in that stadium and running the course was a way for him to say, “I haven’t forgotten you. Odd to say, but I love you probably now more than ever.”
This was fresh in my mind as I had just read these words from Henri Nouwen’s book Life of the Beloved:
I am called to trust that life is a preparation for death as a final act of giving…If love is, indeed, stronger than death, then death has the potential to deepen and strengthen the bonds of love. It was only after Jesus had left his disciples that they were able to grasp what he truly meant to them. But isn’t that true for all who die in love? (Chapter 8, “Given”)
Finished the last page of my current journal this morning. Always produces more thoughts and musings. Figured I’d share two of them for other journalers out there.
Question #1: Do I really need to keep them forever?
A few years ago a coaching client revealed they had every journal they’d ever written. So when they revealed how attached they were to them and expressed their bondage to the past, we went down the road of determining what might be healthier when it comes to keeping old journals. After they did some purging, they genuinely felt free from some of their past.
I since have developed a boundary of only keeping journals from the past five years. That’s my healthy mark. If you have never thought about this, it’s worth pondering. It’s possible there’s some freedom available for your heart, mind, and spirit.
Question #2: How often should I look back?
It’s another question based on what’s healthy for you. I took a few minutes this morning to purge and remember. The timing that seems right for my looking back is roughly twice a year. What I noticed this morning were two interesting emotions. Some entries still resonated strongly, strong enough to keep for future remembrance. Other entries that seemed intense when they were experienced were easy to release.
I have no idea how other journalers approach purging and remembering. If you have reflections to share, please do. Or maybe chew on it in your next entry. Either way, may your journaling continue to bring you health and freedom.
Last June I shared a post about starting a monthly “remembering” practice. This morning in my remembering, I chose to listen to a podcast episode about the Passover.
The episode is from the Exploring My Strange Bible Podcast. Exploring My Strange Bible is Tim Mackie’s personal podcast, produced by BibleProject. It’s an anthology of Tim’s lectures, sermons, and classroom teachings collected over 10 years.
I’ve only listened to a few episodes. What I have found so far is worth sharing. Mackie accomplishes his mission of exploring the Bible for everyone-those who’ve explored it for years and those who’ve just started or aren’t sure why they should.
For this episode, I’m guessing 90% of listeners will learn something that will enhance their next “remembering” opportunity. I know I did.
Today I remembered through the lens of those closest to Jesus sharing Passover with him. Thank you, Tim Mackie, for enhancing and deepening my remembering.
I have a memory problem. Not the kind where I find my lost glasses on my face or miss an appointment that’s been on my calendar for months…at least not today.
My memory problem is more about what I’m not doing than what I’m forgetting. In his book Awe, Paul David Tripp talks about the importance of remembering. Specifically, he stresses the value of intentionally pausing to remember well. What does well mean? Remembering well means looking back to notice, honor, commemorate, or celebrate the important moments, the growth experienced, or the grace received. I agree with Tripp, but apparently not enough.
I noticed this yesterday. While working through a strategic plan, I got amped about doing something that I, at first, didn’t think I had done very much. After taking time to look back and notice, I remembered I had actually done it multiple times. And had liked doing it. Without taking the time to remember well, that plan would have not developed into a better one.
Remembering well takes work. That sounds dreadful, but it doesn’t have to be. And it certainly doesn’t have to be a problem. With focus and desire for progress, a good look back may be exactly what’s needed.
What’s the answer to my problem? Instead of worrying about remembering an appointment, maybe I should be making an appointment to remember.