Reflection. Gratitude. Pondering. All noble and valid uses of a well-defined journaling space. I therefore wonder whether it’s good or bad for some days to simply result in eleven lines of fury.

Why would I even consider…

How can you possibly think…

Why can’t you seem to get yourself to…

Surely, you must be joking…

Sorry, no…

etc…

Does it work? Maybe. Sentiment directed externally generally goes unheard — as intended, of course.

The internal monologue? A different story, and a suggestion to berate yourself on a daily basis this post is certainly not. Personally, I sometimes need some stern words if I’ve fallen off whatever path I’d planned to be on at any given time. Or it might simply be that someone has brought me to the point of words on a page, rather than, say, shouting verbal obscenities in the workplace.

So what is the purpose of this post exactly? Well, simply to say that fury constrained to a short journal entry is fury expressed, processed — and hopefully — left behind. It’s out there (or on the page at least). I’ve said it. Done.

Constraints

I’ve mentioned before how a small, A6 page-a-day is a great way to get into a journaling habit if that is your goal. Well, I’m here to tell you, eleven short lines will do it as well. Whilst I’m all for an expansive journal or larger notebook, sometimes enforced constraints can at least provide a conclusion and early completion of one of my daily tasks.

I find it also forces a certain clarity of thinking. What do I really want to say here? You don’t have long to say it, so get to the point. Yes, some days I’m flat out thinking of something to fill that small space, however a mindful reflection on the taste, texture, and warmth of the first cappuccino of the day? Perfect.

Maybe that’s the quiet power of constraints — whether you arrive with gratitude or grievance, you show up, say your piece, and move on. Eleven short lines — or whatever you’ve got — will do that.