Why I burned my journals & celebrate my insignificance.
I burned about 20 years of journals. Pages and pages of gut-red poetry and angst; cosmic gorgeousness and tender prayers; lists of wants, boyfriends (a loose term), and favourite perfumes.
With every page I fed into the fireplace, I smiled. Thank you. Goodbye. Hellohhh here & now.
REASONS FOR THE BIG BURN
- I’m not interested in the idea of leaving a legacy. If I die tomorrow and vanish from everyone’s memories, fine by me. I’m here for now.
- I love deep and I’m very ritualistic, but I’m not very nostalgic.
- I love my present and I love my future. I love the vastness of my past. But I’ve found that investing in the future has way better ROI (Return On Investment).
- I’ve come to the conclusion that reliving pain is actually not that conducive to my joy, growth, or creativity. Nope, it just isn’t. I’ve tried recapitulation and obsessive attachment as a means to self-improvement, and it blows. I can find plenty to be sad about in my current life — I don’t need to dig up old material.
- I love ritual and adore fire. So, duh, let’s BURN THE PAST. Really, if you want to burn something DOWN, invite me. Funeral pyre, anyone? I’ll bring the matches.
- For me, clutter-free living is up there with rainbows, front row seats, and answered prayers.
INSIGHTS FROM THE BURN
- It helped me become even more glaringly aware of my insignificance on the planet. I find this thrilling. Generally, I’m happy with the work I put into the world. No false modesty here. But realistically, not long after I die my work will fade from view. Beyond say, my great-grandchildren, if they ever come to be, I’m dust on this plane. Dust to dust.
LINK TO CONTINUE READING: http://www.daniellelaporte.com/inspiration-spirituality-articles/why-i-burned-my-journals-celebrate-my-insignificance/Personal insignificance is provocative when you’re making your art. Remembering how insignificant you are helps you to be more daring, more honest, more … here.
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