I think I've reached a transitional time in my journaling (and my life.) Looking back through my pages completed in the course of a year, I can easily see shifts in style, subject matter, focus. And I am sort of delighted by where things are headed.
For as long as I can remember, I've longed to be a "messy journaler." I look at the pages of Dina Wakely and Samantha Kira and simply sigh. For me, messy journaling represents the ability to attain a certain state of mind, the ability to let go of the outcome and revel in the process.
I am a control freak. I love and crave order (often obsessively so) and after years of contemplation (and therapy), I understand that my need for order is hardwired. It is an essential part of who I am. That doesn't mean I can't let loose here and there. In fact, it is imperative that I do so.
I will always make neat, well-composed journal pages (and paintings and quilt objects and so forth.) That is my personal comfort zone. However, I want to flirt with danger as well. Balance in all things means practicing the opposite of what makes you comfortable. I need to go off the rails, blaze new paths, improvise, and make do. I need to embrace the wonky, the misprinted, the accidental, the sloppy. Because in reality, life isn't really about control; it's about hanging on during a wild ride, hoping for a soft landing.
The last couple of journal pages that I've done are a good beginning. The composition is still pretty orderly but I feel the creative process is starting to relax a bit. I'm kvetching over the outcome far less and spending less time choosing materials. This "new me" is, as always, a work-in-progress but after years of being in a hard, dark place, I think I am finally coming up for air. And my! It smells so sweet!