A recent example is an old client reached out to get my input and ideas on a brand and name for a Bike Share program.
I was in the middle of a lot of different things but decided to help. Out came the thesaurus, pencil and journal.The words started to flow... two wheeler, divvy, cycle, pedal, etc., After kicking around words and concepts for some time - nothing really stuck.
A program like a bike share needed a GREAT name not just an okay name. I wanted a name that had a bit of an edge that suited the urban but also appealed to the suburan.
Within my frustration I decided to step away and meditate. After a few moment of silence my mind started to click like an old film projector. I could see flutters of words going by on a screen. Then all of sudden it appeared, as clear as day!
No matter how many times this happens, it is the neatest experience. Meditation provides clarity that not many other sources can provide. In my gut I knew it was the strongest name and concept.
Off my ideas went and later that evening I received an email from my client -- her favorite?
Do we sit to write our thoughts within a trusted, tattered, coffee stained notebook anymore? For me, I can't go day without a pencil in hand to sketch or write. Old school? Most definitely but I am okay with it.
There is something so simple, reliable, carthartic, meditative, and cleansing about writing your thoughts, dreams, hopes, and fears within the lines of a book. The idea that I have my trusted confidant in my back pocket or riding in my bag is so comforting.
I don't think the e-world will replace the journal but I do think pen-to-paper entries have taken a BIG hit.
I will share with you story that reflects the substance of a daybook: Not long after my Dad's funeral I bought my Mom a journal -- she didn't understand at first but soon it became apparent -- this was her space, her time to let the pen lead and let go. Ten years and twenty journals later my Mom, her children, her grandchildren have a stack of invaluable gifts. A history, a story, a lineage we can hold in our hands, see reflections of my Mom in her writing and watercolors; smell her fragrance within the sleeves -- no blog, or laptop, or tablet, or tweet could ever replace the pages.
When you frequent your favorite coffee shop, bookstore, or ride on the T -- take a moment to see -- are there more pushes of thumb or scribbles and sketches within a tattered, warn, journal?
When I start an idea I venture forth with a packed folder, a notebook full of questions, a focus, an eagerness to explore and learn. If I'm lucky I'll come across a gem.
When I met Norma Holt [photographer, artist, activist, and feisty New Yorker] she was an 89 years old, within minutes i realized her spirit alone could shift a sea.
Norma has given me the gift - she has taught me that in the latter years of life one can still be feisty and uber creative.