The World Is Your Journal (Voice Journal 101)

At the beginning of this whole COVID disaster, I was growing accustomed to taking long walks. No other form of exercise seemed to suit me and so every day I would embark on a contemplative adventure, strolling the two mile loop near my home. I always regretted the circumstance that it was nearly impossible to journal while walking. During a walk, I could let my mind roam freely and it told me things I would’ve like to write down. Sort of like shower thoughts (I haven’t figured that one out yet but I’ll let you know as soon as I do).

One day I even tried to write while I was walking. I took out my journal and pen and wrote one sentence: “I am writing this while I am walking” and then promptly gave up. The letters were crooked and deformed and I had been bested yet again by the inconvenient circumstance. I had only one idea left.

I took out my phone and opened the Voice Memos app, then hit record. And then I started to talk. I played it casual, holding the phone up to my ear as if I were chatting with someone and saying things like “yes, right, exactly” every time someone passed me on the sidewalk. I said things that were on my mind. I explained thoughts I’d had, ideas I wanted to record. It was an auditory journal entry. When I got home I stopped the recording and titled it “Taking a walk during the pandemic – disguised as a phone call so they don’t think (know?) I’m crazy”. The next time I went on a walk I did it again.

It became my odd routine. At first I was talking to myself but then I found myself wondering: Who was my real audience? I began to address the recording as if it had some unknown but attentive audience of the future, who wondered what my life was like. I told it about the ways the pandemic was affecting me as a sort of historical account, as well as my inner thoughts. In my head, I still believed that no one would ever hear it but me, but it helped to act as if that weren’t the case.

It was almost as if the silliness of the action itself were fueling my one-sided conversation. Because what could I do except something as crazy as this? It was an experiment, a new experience that excited me as much as any other. Not to mention the solution to a problem I had been struggling with. But eventually it started to feel just a bit lonely, literally speaking into the void. Having a conversation with no one but myself in the future, who I knew would likely not appreciate what I had to say. It was almost terrifying, staring into that emptiness that I was throwing myself into, knowing nothing would break the fall.

But the thing is, that’s exactly what I asked for. I wanted a journal and I got it. A diary is not something to be mass produced and sold. It’s for you. Not you later, you now. And the voice journal is the same thing. So the lessons learned are:

1. Do the crazy thing, you’ll have fun.

And

2. The world is your journal.

Self expression shouldn’t be about other people. That’s why it’s called self-expression. Any form of expression that you attempt has the ability to become a journal. I think too often we focus on how people will react to what we make. What we’re not thinking about is what it does for us.

In my attempt to create a new space where I could record private ideas, ones that were meant for pondering, not for sharing, I forgot that goal and began to focus on another one, one which wasn’t as useful to me and which would never be fulfilled. When I realized my mistake I learned to ask myself a question: “who are you doing this for?”, and that while art can serve any purpose, any person you want it to, it’s important to keep in mind what your initial goal was. If you started a project to fulfill something your life was missing, make sure it does that instead of letting in fall into another category, one that asks for the appreciation of others. Sometimes you need to put yourself first and keep yourself there.