This post over at The Ruricolist struck a cord with me. In it, he recounts aged notebooks still holding the hand written entries of their now gone owners. In part, that is why I’ve commenced writing in bound media. The computer, which I’m using now, doesn’t give me the sense of ownership, of time and place that paper does [HT – The Ruricolist again]. I’ve just written a bit of how I use a curiously small, and not always friendly notebook. That got me to thinking about all the notebooks I’m currently filling, or not, as the case may be. And why?
My everyday, lugg-about is my Lee Valley Log Book. It lives in a binder with my planner (soon to be the DIY Version!). It holds all sorts of things (in the 3rd volume now). I have notes for sermons and Sunday School lessons. That’s frequently where I’ll take notes upon hearing a sermon. If I’m doing genealogical research, it will go there. I draft up plans for projects -garden and wood, coffee, other. It’s a picture of my life as time goes by – that which I was doing at a given time.
I’ve become so attached to the Lee Valley Logbook, I now have 2 waiting in the wings. I’m chugging through them at a pace of about 1 volume per year, depending on what I’m doing. I’m also currently transcribing some Romans outlines from a pocket moleskine into a standard moleskine notebook. With that, I hope to fill it with other books outlined. I have a pocket ruled moleskine that occupies a spot in my bag now as well – it records things that strike a cord, what I may want to contemplate more later. For instance, when I was recently in Boston (albeit, carrying a Boston notebook, not this one, but it’s an illustration), I overheard something on the train which I promptly wrote down. I know where it is, and I’m waiting for the appropriate time to pull it out.
At least with my LogBook, I index them, so I can find what I wrote. The others, not yet. Why do I do all this?
1. It’s more connected, more fitting of my personality. It fits my pen, the way I think. I like it!
2. It’s a history. More than some, I’m interested in what my children will know, have of me once I’m gone. My father is dead, and all I have are fundamentally trinkets, nothing of his thought. I’m trying, in small part, to correct that.
3. To record life. In one volume that lives on a shelf goes the stories I seem to be the sole heir to. I don’t trust my mind, so, as I recall and have time, I write them down, identifying why by the main actor therein, and the relationship to me. Connectivity.
4. But it’s more that just genealogy. There’s a spiritual heritage I hope to leave behind as well, as God works in me. Something that my children and grand children will hopefully remember. And not just see a dead ancestor, but God’s faithfulness.
Solo Deo Gloria,