The times

The other day, it was my friend's birthday and somewhere in the message I sent her, I used the phrase "the times are so timeful".
And they really are.
The other day, I also wrote in my journal -- and lately I've been writing less consistently, every 10 days or so. When reading fictional journals this is something that usually causes the writer to scold themselves. However, writing not so often can be interesting too.

My last three journal entries are dated as follows: March 18th, March 8th, and February 29th.

On February 29th I wrote of my own random thoughts, and this incredible star I saw in the sky that left me mesmerized. (It was so bright, and I've kept seeing it every so often since, it's not always visible…I don't know what it is…?)
On March 8th I wrote of a funeral, and all the emptiness that comes with that.
On March 18th I wrote of all that's been happening in Canada with COVID-19.

Before beginning to write on the 18th, I read over what I'd written on the 8th and noticed -- a lot has happened. In the past two weeks, so much has happened. And it made the entry, 10 days later, so much more interesting to write -- like a story where the rising action is just so abrupt, you can barely believe where you've come.

A couple of months ago, I learned of the term "catharsis". And I like the idea of it. "The process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions."
I think journals are good to keep because they help with catharsis. Even if you don't write very often, every day, it's an interesting way to take all that's inside and attempt to make sense of it.
And even if you don't want to be a philosopher and make sense of your thoughts and existence -- it is an interesting way to put things into perspective, show you how all things change.

Which reminds me of this short poem by Robert Frost: "Nothing Gold Can Stay". My friend and I talk about this poem all the time. And many a time as we've discussed our troubles (they and I always have great discussions), we've reminded each other and ourselves:

Not only can nothing gold stay -- but nothing black, red, green --- nothing -- can stay. Journals, I've come to realize, do a pretty decent job of capturing that. They capture the change of you, your place, the times. And if really looked at and thought upon, could make for some profound discoveries.