It was a rare weather day for November; the air was crisp but without the foggy marine layer so characteristic of Northern California.  It was the golden hour: that beautiful time of the evening when the sun melts deliciously into the earth or water, depending on your vantage point, and the atmosphere drips with the warmth and energy of a day spent. The rosy sunlight danced on top of the surf as it met its match along the steadfast beach, and the last of the pale blue purple daylight poked through the heart shaped window of the shadowed rock. I did not pay the two birds to appear and pose perfectly above the rock, and nevertheless, there they were. I did not have to look far into my archives to find the perfect photo for a February Blog. For me, a gift of beauty from nature far surpasses the chocolates, the heart shaped candies, and the random declarations of endless love that perpetually appear around the 14th of this month.

With that tribute to the show stealing holiday we know as Valentine’s Day now complete, I would like to embark on a different tangent that nestles itself gracefully against the shoulder of February: its dutiful and important place of being the SECOND month of the year.  January is over.  January is  boastful, full of declarations and resolutions. It screams from the top of the calendar of new starts, new beginnings, changed lives, and course correction. With fireworks and noise makers, it is the celebratory kiss of the New Year’s Eve, and all the promises and magic we hope to find in the coming year. As well intentioned as we are, however, it is not uncommon for the enthusiasm to fade as the reality of those resolutions and what they require, fails to shake us from the familiarity of even our own discomfort.

Enter February, and the beautiful art of being second.  Think about second for a moment. Second must take more time, to really think things out, to plot and plan.  Second may not have the immediate glory of first, but it does have the rich complexity of taking a little longer to put the pieces in place that will make for a more satisfying ride. Second still crosses the finish line.

I think about February, and planning out big things, like I think about taking a journey. Journeys may be actual physical displacements from one location to another, or the more metaphysical rearrangements of thought patterns, actions, and beliefs that come with gaining knowledge or insight. Questions that I need to answer for either type of journey include:

Where do I want to go?

Why do I want to go there?

What tools/supplies/skills do I have that will help me?

What tools/skills/supplies do I need to obtain to make this journey successful?

What resources are available to me if I need help along the way?

What’s my plan if I get lost?

A beautiful way of sorting through this, I have found, is journaling. Those of us that are older may equate this with the infamous phrase “Dear Diary…”.  Journaling, as in the act of writing down thoughts, feelings, emotions, intentions, insights, recounts, or whatever comes out, is making a comeback.  Journaling is being rediscovered and has hit the BIG TIME.  Once relegated to the occasional novel or movie, it is now being discussed on Podcasts everywhere, in self-help guru blogs, and even in the medical world as its value for helping with key issues like depression, anxiety, and a variety of other common complaints that affect nearly everyone at some point in their life is being scientifically investigated and documented. Again, for those of us who are older, it seems a bit like hearing with great fanfare that the sky is blue, and the exact scientific reasons for why that is. As I moved through my many levels of training, my standard approach for when I really needed to remember something, or to figure it out, was to take pen to paper and write it out. Spell it out. Feel the energy of the thoughts move through my brain and down into my hands and appear across the once blank sheet I had placed in front of me.

Not long ago I sat on a plane, fervently taking notes on a podcast I was listening to that I wanted to learn from. I saw the young woman next to me glancing over from time to time.  My thought was she saw me as a dinosaur, writing instead of tapping away at a keyboard. When we landed, her unexpected comment to me was not a short treatise on the benefits of coming into the modern age.  It was most unexpectantly a comment on the beautiful quality of my penmanship, and her regret she had not learned that in school. I truly felt an ache for her, and encouraged her to pursue this dying art.  Why have we abandoned teaching something so fundamental?

For me, journaling has been one of the most effective tools for sorting through many of life’s most perplexing issues and journeys.  Nearly free, it is one of the most cost-effective therapies around. It does not require any subscription, the purchase of expensive technologies, or the coordination of multiple schedules.  It can be done nearly anywhere, at any time. So how does one go about this?

There are now many places you can read or listen up on the benefits of journaling, and also advice on how to start. If you want references, drop me a note and I’ll forward. For some, the presentation of a blank page and a sharp instrument strikes a fear so profound as to be immobilizing. This can happen for a variety of reasons, which I have read up on, but since I am not a therapist, will not try to elucidate. Dare I suggest though that most can get past this pretty readily.  Think about jumping into a swimming pool.  Some do it quickly, and others ease themselves in. Almost everyone, once in, benefits. Some follow a prescribed schedule, or a prescribed set of questions to answer.  Some simply write freely, whatever comes to their mind. Some do it when they feel the need. Personally, I do not get to it every day, but do try to get there several times a week. I release myself from the expectation that my words must convey any particular meaning, have a specific intentioned purpose, or come out in a way that will be pleasing to others.  There is no expectation of printable prose, and it is for no one else’s consumption except my own. I have documented both journeys across continents, and across the chasms of heartbreak so vast I thought surely it would swallow me whole. In situations of both sheer hell and sheer joy, the act of journaling has been my refuge.  It has laid bare my weaknesses so I could learn from them, pointed out to me joy that was difficult to see, gratitude that was obvious, reframed situations that were otherwise not survivable, and provided direction and a compass across landscapes both beautiful and treacherous.

I have previously spoken about sharing with you things I have learned in the past thirty years of doctoring, and most recently on my personal journey of how to implement change in your life when trying to give yourself the best odds of survival (for me that being two cancers in a 5-year time span).  Journaling was something recommended to me that I have found of immense value, and I am simply passing along my experience with it.  Yours may vary. The people who have been so instrumental in offering good advice that I ‘ve taken heed of are often those who have traveled the same path and survived or have been so involved in research and the actual doing of advancing science. Had those people not been brave enough to share their experiences, I would have been all the poorer for it, and this is my way of expressing “thanks”.

So welcome February, and all that you do not promise and all your non-glory. Thank you for showing up, even after the show has been stolen, to guide those of us who are willing to not give up!