I know a little bit about the brain, how it heals, regulates, and grows--but none of what I know fully explains why one simple practice gets me through the toughest seasons of lfe, again, and again. In fact, this practice more than gets me through. It reliably returns me to a sense of calm, curiosity, and fresh possibility.
The practice is something I call Junk Journaling. I do it in a composition notebook from the dollar store, or I make a simple journal out of an old grocery bag. Using a range of mixed media art supplies, like glue, collage paper, acrylic paint, sharpie markers, and gel pens, I start by putting color and words on a page. I am loose and carefree about it. I am not trying to make “fine art.”
As I work in my Junk Journal, I ask myself, “What would feel good to look at? What colors feel good to see today? What textures?” I add materials to the paper, layer after layer, following what I call the inner, “Ah, yes.”
If I start feeling critical or judgmental about what I am making, I draw a circle on the page and write, “Inner Critic,”in the circle. Then I write some reassuring words to the Inner Critic, like, “I know you are just trying to help me and keep me safe, so thank you. But I am just relaxing and playing right now. All is well.”
Part of what's great about a Junk Journal is that the stakes are low here! I can usually convinced the Inner Critic to back off and give me some space. After all, this is just a Junk Journal from the dollar store, right? What could possibly go too terribly wrong? With the stakes low, and with my mind focused on my “Ah, yes,” Junk Journaling remains light-hearted and fun. And because Junk Journaling is fun, it continues to be something I *want* to do it. And slowly, I find I have moved to a more pleasant neighborhood of my brain.
Unlike many other practices that are indeed healthy and can shift my mind to a better place, this one has an easy entry point. I look at my art supplies and see what color feels good to look at. Or maybe I pick up a pen and write “I hate this day” across the page in block letters…. and then I slowly fill in the letters with doodles. Before I know it, I am immersed in the page, several layers deep, following my inner Ah yes.
As I add layer upon layer in my Junk Journal, following that little bit of pleasure I get when gazing at a combination of colors, textures, shapes or words that feel just right to see... the ordinary space of the journal page starts to feel more and more like a sacred, healing place. Something takes over that is not my usual mind, with its usual ideas and opinions. It’s refreshing!
The part I love the most about Junk Journaling is mixing in scraps and bits from my recycling bin. My favorite is using “debris” from the painful or difficult parts of my life: financial papers, news clippings, old court documents, medical reports. Whatever is feeling hard in my life gets to be included on my page. Included, and as it turns out, gently transformed.
Out of my greatest challenges, these pages, and the process of creating them, have brought forth an array of life-giving ideas, perspectives, and states of being that I have desperately needed over the past eight years. Because in these years, I have faced personal difficulties beyond what I ever imagined I could live through, triggering childhood wounds in a way that at times has left me feeling ravaged by life. It seems weirdly simple, but I credit Junk Journaling with keeping me connected to a stream of generativity and possibility, in the Worst of Times, when my rational brain had reached the limit of what it could figure out.
Just as I began reemerging from my own personal Worst of Times, COVID-19 took over our lives, laying bare and exaggerating all our other problems. I did what we have all tried to do: bring the best of what we have to offer forward in these times. So, for the last six months of Sheltering in Place, I have held regular “Art Dates” live on Facebook, where my friends, family and colleagues could come and watch me Junk Journal. In the first few weeks of SIP, I Junk Journaled live on Facebook five days a week! I invited others to grab the supplies that they have on hand and join me at the kitchen table for an hour of following the, Ah yes, on their own page. I heard again and again that this practice, and the chance to do it together in community, was providing an anchor and a bright spot in people’s lives.
I am sure there are bio-chemical explanations. Focusing on what feels good to look at probably produces a drip of pleasure-making hormones from the human brain to the rest of the body. And it’s possible that by consciously engaging the creative part of the brain, while including scraps and bits of “debris” from the hard parts of life, we are building subconscious neural connections between the innovative, problem solving centers of the brain and our biggest problems.
I don’t really know. In all honesty, I am surprised by how much I need and enjoy this simple practice of filling composition notebooks with scraps, paint and colored paper. I am even more surprised by the creative solutions that have begun to unfurl and reveal themselves in my life, personally speaking. And I am perhaps most surprised by how much other people seem to enjoy this almost silly practice, right along with me, during our collective Worst of Times.
I do know this: as I write this, the sky outside my window where I live in California is a dark shade of orange from the smoke of rampant wildfires, adding one more layer of hardship to an already profound time of upheaval in our country, in the world. It’s going to take incredible resilience and wildly creative solutions to find our way through these times.
What if the best way through is not the hardest path, or the heaviest lifting? What if one of our most promising avenues beyond this mess is to wake the Inner Artist and ask, “Hey, Inner Artist, what color feels like Ah, yes, today?”
If you care to join me, I would love to Junk Journal with you. You are invited to a free hour-and-a-half online workshop called Junk Journaling for Peace on September 19, 12:30-2PM Pacific Time. This workshop is part of Philly Peace Day, and it is designed to introduce you to the delightful practice of junk journaling. We will work with what you have on hand, and move toward your Ah, yes. For details and to register, go here.
In the meantime, consider this: what three colors would feel delicious for you to see together today? Can you put them together on a page?
Congratulations, you’ve begun!
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