Morning Pages, Twelfth Anniversary
It's Fourth of July. Given the decline of our democratic republic, I'm not celebrating that. Instead, I have an anniversary to consider and maybe celebrate.
Years ago, I read about of Morning Pages, Julia Cameron's practice of writing three pages by hand first thing each morning. It appealed to me, but I didn't begin. I've long had dreams of filling pages, creating a mountain of work. Each notebook I bought, stole, or received as a kid filled me with dreams of writing every day, becoming a writer. Those plans fell apart as obligation overwhelmed desire.
Late June, early July 2014, I was trying to remake my life. I'd barely survived my mid-life crisis and was stuck in the fourth year of a job that was dragging me down. Looking for ways to change, I signed on to co-lead a two-week writing workshop beginning July 5. That morning, I arrived early, made coffee, and put fountain pen to the first of three Morning Pages.
The next day I did three more. I kept expectations low: just fill this page,. I tried not to think of the next page or the next day's, let alone the rest of the month and year. I wrote the page in front of me.
This morning I woke, set the kettle to boil, and emptied the dishwasher. I made coffee and carried it to the desk. I pulled clipboard, fountain pen, and reading glasses from the shelf, and started writing. It wasn't until page three that I realized I was finishing my twelfth year of Morning Pages.
I've kept going. I have a daily practice, but I don't want to make too much of it.
Well, I want to make a little bit out of it. I'm pleased and comforted by the numbers: twelve years, 4,383 days, 13,149 pages. Almost three cases of paper, all of it reused (I print lines on the backs of used pages).
Beyond that small celebration, I don't want to make a big deal about what I've done any more than I do about brewing coffee or emptying the dishwasher. These are just my daily practices.
What I celebrate is how Morning Pages has changed my mind. Habits wear grooves in the brain. Morning Pages are groovy in the extreme. I often write of how I'm thinking, how I want to think. Lately, I'm writing about how I feel, a tougher thing for me, one I'm learning a tiny bit each day.
I've been changed by this practice. Morning Pages are a kind of meditation that is a tool for my change and growth. I'm calmer than twelve years ago, a bit more thoughtful and accepting. I feel how much more there is to learn and that keeps me going.
Do I recommend Morning Pages? Not really. I mean, you do you. I've had good experiences with the practice. There are good mornings and bad, but it's not about that. I'm still learning what it is about.
Rather than recommend, I'll say again what I do. I wake, empty the dishwasher, make a decaf and carry it to the desk where fountain pen, pages, and reading glasses wait. I note the date and label page one then begin writing the first thought in my head. Content pales in comparison with practice. As Natalie Goldberg recommends, I just keep the pen moving through three pages, file them away, and go wash my cup. The next day, I do it again.
Make of it what you will. Rather than celebrate what I've done, I take comfort in knowing the pen waits for tomorrow's Morning Pages and my continued slow walk down a path that feels as though it's moving me into the light.