It is the seed

I must find

Back in my old life as a public school teacher, I papered my classroom walls with lines I found inspiring, and hoped my students would too: “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” “Knowledge is power.” My favorite: “Resistance is futile.” I printed these large, laminated and then displayed them to my captive adolescent audience because I thought they’d impart some wisdom to a largely indifferent crowd whose attention I daily battled for, through the sorcery of black letters on white paper.¹

One I could have attended to more carefully myself was the oft-quoted “Know thyself.” I’ve been thinking again of this lately because a friend told me about her bullet journal. Hear me out. If you are unfamiliar with a bullet journal, do not begin by searching the internet. There you’ll find an incredible universe of Pinterest dictators with entire continents of cute layouts. Then Hobby Lobby will try to sell you markers and washi tape, and pretty soon you’re just doodling and you might as well have ordered a paint by numbers kit from Wander Painting.²

If you search the creator of the bullet journal³ and watch a video or two of his, however, you’ll learn that the process of making and using one is supposed to be ultra simple. A few pages in a cast-off notebook, maybe use a ruler. Once you begin that way, you can develop other techniques, layouts, and meet your own needs and processes. The key is to become aware of them.

For me, understanding my own needs and processes has been the most challenging aspect of constructing this thing. I’m entirely too accustomed to using what’s already been created and ignoring the parts I don’t want, similar to how I manage Spotify or take on a trip to the mall. But beginning with the most basic of outlines, and then building what I want from there? It requires a very keen awareness and examination of self. I have to know what I actually want and how I really act, and what are the true gears that drive my own mind. And deciphering this while keeping it simple, as it turns out, is much harder than I thought.

To wit: I like to spreadsheet,⁴ and I’m happy to slap a ruler onto paper for handmade graphs. I appreciate fine handwriting⁵ and could accidentally turn my journal into a calligraphy project with an unsupervised trip to Michael’s. I love planning, and the journal could easily become a hopeless tangle of calendar/to-do list/meal planner/grocery list/habit tracker/outfit planner/sticker collector/Christmas shopping list etc etc and etc. No. Lovely blooms in an ungainly organizer bouquet to be sure, but instead I must find the seed of each of these blooms and re-plant that.

Only that.

---

The other day Anne Helen Petersen asked the question, “When did you first feel like *yourself*?⁶ Her readers posted fascinating responses. I’ve been pondering this question too. Partly the answer for me is, there’s not a definitive moment. With each chapter that turns over, I become a more developed version of myself. All those characteristics I had as a youth — impulsivity, impatience, the need for order, curiosity, drive, overkill — still here. They just manifest differently, and hopefully more positively. I know an adult version of that list underlies my desire and ability to launch Chickadee, for instance, which is quickly transforming into the passion project of my life.

And then there’s the mellow of age, the desire for calm. This return to analog calendar and documentation via the bullet journal acts as a kind of salve over the sandpaper of the digital grind.⁷ I read paper books, quilt by hand, walk downtown when I need to go there. I think in some ways, I’m not developing at all. Rather, I’m distilling into my true self.

Awareness of this process, though…it’s hard to pin. To grab hold of that distillation’s tail, hang on, explore the form and character of it, and exclaim this…THIS is what I’m made of! Then dive further down, shed the obstructions. Let fly excess jackets and hair pins and electronic devices, and search for the seed of myself.

I can drop the petals. Lose the fanciful leaves. Let go the stalks.

It is the seed I must find, and re-plant that.

Only that.

1. They imparted nothing and the battle raged on.

2. Which I totally did like 3 months ago and I have found that trying to paint in those tiny sections is giving me jaw pain.

3. Ryder Carroll is his name

4. especially when I can bend the digital sheet to my will via formulas that propagate across tables

5. which I lack

6. These threads are subscriber-only reads, so if you want to read it, you’ll have to subscribe to Culture Study. But I’ll tell you it’s 1000% worth doing, if you can.

7. And gives me permission to shop the office supply aisle for pens. O Ecstasy!