The Traveler's Scrap

Glorious southwest scenery rolled by the train's big picture windows. She was staring down at a big book balanced across her lap.  This young woman took up one seat… her large, fat scrapbook  spilled onto the next.  

Crossing America on Amtrack's Sunset Limited, we were fellow travelers seated in the upper deck of the train's observation car. "Whatcha doing?" I asked. She was furiously gluing travel pamphlets, luggage tags and swizzle sticks into an overflowing scrapbook.  She replied with an Aussie twang, "Oh.. I just keep all my travel stuff in here. Stuff I collect along the way. My boyfriend thinks I'm nuts."

Her book was large, heavy and already hard to close. Still it had a grand, crinkled look that showed a lot of miles and messing with. " I really don't take the time to write in a journal….and I don't really like taking pictures…. so I do this instead. I collect stuff. Then I put it in this book."

"Looks like a long trip", I mused.  "Right, she replied. We are going across America to California… then some time in the Pacific. Then home."  She was one of those young Australians that make it their mission to visit Europe and world in one grand journey, traveling for a year or so. She was out for as long as her see-the-world-budget held out,  visiting as many destinations as possible.  

"When this book gets full I'll send it home, so when I get back I can remember where I've been. My mum likes getting these books in the mail. I'm excited about showing it to my family." 

I wish I had photgraphed Aussie gal's journal. This is one of my trip journals, inspired by her.  

We chatted a while longer as she glued.  Her book was a colorful chaos of maps, postcards, flyers with overlapping edges, scrawly labels. tape,  tears, smudges.  She seemed unconcerned she could barely close the cover and the book looked like it weighed about ten pounds.

I fell in love with the fact that her book had too many memories to fit neatly on prescribed pages. That conversation changed the way I thought about my journals. I gave up my prim, hard back sketchbook for something different. Over time my travel journals morphed into a format that collected what I found along the way. 

Then and there I decided that's the kind of journal (and life) I want…. one too full to fit between conventional covers. Let the experiments begin... Now I'm inclined to let the stuff of my travels shape my journals, rather than forcing my memories to fit into a neat little book. So often my travel journals are asked to accommodate the odd, the out sized and unexpected things. 

But, isn't that why we travel?

We Call It Home

Some journals track days and years.  

Some record the course of a journey.

Some journals recall a place or a moment in time.

This journal records a stroll around my old neighborhood in Berkeley, California in 1986. 

“We Call it Home" has covers of heavy wood making it a satisfying object to hold. The hinges open smoothly. Inside is a recess that holds a folded accordion book with with a black and white photo on each page. The first page has an inscription:

"We Call It Home 

our block and its environs

for Allison 

July 1986

Berkeley, California 

From David"

  

The date tells me it was a birthday gift from David, my college buddy, housemate, partner in crime and ever the artist. He never gave a gift that he didn’t make. Always, his presents were surprising, witty and ingenious and intensely personal.

Holding this hefty little book conjures vivid memories of where I used to live. I recall where it used to sit at my desk in the old farm house we shared.  I remember the garden set back from the noisy city street in the midst of crazy Berkeley. I think of the light, the feeling of sanctuary that surrounded the house.  This little wooden journal brings all these things to mind. 

If I walked around the neighborhood today I would see some of the same things. But many of those things I would be gone, ephemeral local details that come and go with the passage of time.  Still I know I can always open this blocky little book and it will speak volumes to me about a very particular time and place that we called home. 

Artist Book: David Jouris, 1986

To see more photographs by David Jouris:   http://www.davidjouris.com/

Collected Wisdom: Capturing Quotes

This quote fell out of one of my old journals while I was flipping through some past pages. I love this quote. Finding it was like encountering an old friend. 

"There is a vitality, a life force, 

an energy, a quickening that is translated 

through you into action. 

And because there is only one of you in all of time, 

this expression is unique. 

And if you block it, it will never exist through 

any other medium ...the world will not have it. 

It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable 

nor how it compares with other expressions. 

It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, 

to keep the channel open."

The Life and Work of Martha Graham (1991) by Agnes de Mille, p. 264 

Martha Graham, the great modern dancer and teacher, asked her students to do the work and to not judge. I had a vague recall that she said something along these lines, but it was inspiring to find the exact quote and to recall the power of how she said it.

If a quote had meaning and power to inspire you on the first reading, it is very likely that it will speak to you again. Journals are a good place to collect the bits of wisdom that you encounter as you go through life: the wise quotes, the off the wall statements and stories that resonate for you.

It's good to shake the pages of journals past and see what falls out.

The Wake Up Journal

I shy from routines. Doing the same things in the same way every day makes me bored. Except for two things: I drink coffee every morning and I write in a journal. 

I find I am alarmingly inconsistent about most things: like closing drawers, where I leave my car keys, keeping a calendar. Somehow journal writing is different. It is an easy habit to keep. Why is a mystery. Maybe it's the coffee.

I have been writing the-first-thing-journal since college when my boy friend and I flew down the hill in our VW bug to slide into the booths at Berkeley’s Northside Café.  The everyday journal and coffee began here.

I do know that over the years the shapes of the journals that I write have shifted. My old journals used to be standard black bound artist books.  Being inconsistent and curious, the journals have become more and more like experiments.

This blog is about experiments in journal keeping, mine and others, some successful and some not. Live and learn. Over the years the journal has taught me one thing: that a moment of musing every morning keeps me aware of where I've been and where I'm going. 

I believe I keep a journal to wake up.
Coffee is just a bonus.