There was an article today on NPR's website about the "transformative power" of keeping a daily journal.
I didn't read it.
But it did get me thinking, so probably that's why I'm here now.
"Transformative" is an interesting choice of words. Value-neutral, I'd say. That's the danger of the daily journal. Memory is memory, but writing is composing, editing, ommission. It competes with the memory. Usurps it, sometimes.
It's dangerous to run around thinking you're the hero. Everything costs, everything has ramifications that we don't get to see.
I think I've been decent about journaling about my regrets, or when I've been an ass, or selfish, or completely wrong.
I think. I'm sure I've left out a lot.
I've gotten really into dehydrating food. Mushrooms, mostly. Dehydrated oyster mushrooms grill up real nice and in a tortilla it *almost* reminds me of carne asada.
Oh, another thing I've been doing is trying to sleep better by avoiding light. Not all light, of course, but again on NPR, a sleep scientist was talking about one of the factors in good sleep being controlling your exposure to light as you wind down and get ready to sleep.
I don't know that I'm particularly sensitive to it (it seems to vary wildly among people) but I have been using only low, red lights in my room. Like now, I'm writing on my phone, on Night Mode which is supposed to filter out any blue light or whatever wavelengths that scare away all the melatonin. The rest of the room is bathed in an eerie red glow.
It reminds me of being in the Army, furtively writing letters after Lights Out, in the glow of my red flashlight.
Just like old times. Except I don't know who I'm writing to, I suppose. My transformed self maybe.
I wonder what I'll transform into.
