With ancient roots, the concept of a diary dates back to the Romans, the medieval Middle East, and early Asian cultures. In Latin, it is written as diarium – meaning “daily allowance”, from dies for “day”. In Old French, spoken between the 8th and mid-14th centuries, the word ” journal” is derived from” jurnal”, which in turn arises from the same root as diurnus – meaning “of the day”. The luminaries of the Renaissance, from merchants to historians to Leonardo da Vinci himself, filled endless sheets of parchment with personal opinions, dreams, and unanswered questions.
Journaling is a day’s thoughts laid out on paper. It is carefree and unserious. It is intentional and intense. It takes whatever form you wish it to be – guided by the pen in your hand. To the mind, it is a manner of self-regulation; with every stroke, words spill across the page, the tangled string of thoughts now straightened out into something legible, something digestible. To your future self, it is a physical record of who you are right now; a raw, honest portrayal of the thoughts that consume you in this moment. The photos in your camera roll don’t quite possess the same effect. In a digital world of constantly being perceived and judged, the act of putting pencil to paper suddenly becomes intimate, secluded, and something you can truly call your own.
Convinced yet? A lot of the time, we overcomplicate things; we think that journaling is more effortless said than done. Most people find themselves circling the problem of –what the hell do I write about– and end up not writing at all. Journaling is simple when you consciously make an effort to stop critiquing and judging yourself; it is not a performative task. No one is going to tell you that your daily excerpts are boring, no one will nag you for overthinking in your diary, nor deem you shallow for anything you write. By that, I literally mean anything.
Starting with the conventional diary of thoughts, this journal is, to me, a messy unloading of emotions and a reasonable degree of ranting. It ranges from a single paragraph to pages and pages of rambling – a furious scribbling of words and racing thoughts. If I’ve had a bad day? In it goes. If I’ve had a spectacular day? The same thing applies, documenting all the details behind my feelings. I’ll probably read over my old rants and wince, but each page is a snapshot of who I was in that instance – someone I’ll never be again. For the ‘Type A’ personalities out there, or simply those who want to stay organized, journaling is limitless; it is your project planner, a to-do list, a tracker for deadlines, schedules and reminders. Others begin by keeping a little book of gratitude, a low effort way to check in with yourself and practice mindfulness while reflecting on what we appreciate, even the things we assume are insignificant. The list goes on and on, from travel journals to ‘junk journaling’, including notebooks filled with city sketches out and about, pages of ideas that you want to come back to, new words that you’ve learnt, things to research, amateur poetry, creative stories… There is no end. You don’t have to mirror Virginia Woolf or emulate Franz Kafka; you already have a mind teeming with thoughts and brimming with beliefs, and somewhere nearby, an empty notebook waiting to be filled.