"This I Believe" essays

For this week's community day, my housemates and I each wrote a short essay on something we believe in - something we had a personal connection to and could convey in 350-500 words.  Our essays are a part of the "This I Believe" project, an international organization dedicated to facilitating public dialogue about beliefs, large and small.  

(For more information, click here - http://thisibelieve.org/guidelines/)

Each of us wrote about a different topic that was important to us and then we each made an audio recording to submit to NPR for selection.  The following is my essay, just as I read it this morning.

"This I Believe: March 8, 2013

I was given my first journal when I was 8 years old.  It was a simple hardcover white journal, 1”x5”x8”.  Its inside covers are vibrant purple, my favorite color.  Its front cover features a little girl in a dress, her long blonde hair in pigtails, swinging under a giant tree. On its blank white pages, I recorded life as I experienced it; a little girl who also had long blonde hair and loved trees.  My entries in that first journal are rife with misspellings, clumsy handwriting, questionable choices of ink color, child-like prayers, and lots and lots of stickers.  It is in many ways unremarkable.  But that journal is one of my most treasured possessions. 

With that simple child’s journal, I began a life-long habit of recording and reflecting on my life through the written word.  As an introvert, my mind is always filled with a million questions, ideas and emotions; an inner universe with its own perspectives on life, not all of which require additional human presence for expression.  What I love about journals is their boundless generosity.  There is no topic too insignificant or too weighty for a journal.  My journals have accompanied me through long-distance moves and major life transitions; through times of clarity and times of doubt.  In a constantly changing life, my journals may be the one constant companion I ever have. 

The people who know me best keep me well supplied with journals as gifts.  My father has handcrafted me journals, my mother dedicates my journals with beautiful calligraphy, my friends give me journals which remind me of them, my mentors give me journals that affirm the potential they see in me.  Reflecting the variety of people whose relationships shape my life, no two of my journals are alike.   

My journals themselves are dear, old friends who at times know me better than I know myself.   Much more than the mere sum of the accounts on their pages, my journals anchor my past through my present; helping me to approach my future.  My journals reflect back to me more about myself than I can accomplish with mere introspection – they reveal as much about my thought process as my actual thoughts.  My journals speak loudly especially in my omissions – so much so that times when I find I am not writing in my journal have become my cues that something in my life needs to change.

Now on my 14^th volume, over a decade and a half of my life has been recorded in journals.  My journals represent the rawest, most truthful expressions of my humanity.  They see the best and worst in me, and invite growth before I even know I need it.  Much like a tree is sustained by its roots, I am sustained by the fullness of life recorded and reflected upon in my journals.  They ground me and challenge me.  

It is for these reasons that I believe in the power of journaling."