I try to write every single day. Most days, I don’t have to try, just like most days I don’t have to “try” to exercise. But I know that I have to exercise to stay healthy and maintain my level of fitness. So, on days when time is tight or I’m just not in the mood, I do have to put forth an effort to do the things that have become part of my daily routine. Practicing these good habits daily/consistently keeps me in balance. When I don’t do them, I become out of sorts rather quickly.
I developed the MindMosaic® for functionality and for aesthetics. For me, it serves multiple purposes. It’s quick and cathartic, and because I love the look of handwriting, it’s pretty.
Every morning when I get up, I pretty much wake up the same way. My mood is typically great. I smile, thankful to be alive to live another day. I breathe in deeply and stretch a little, and then it happens - the flood of thoughts comes rushing in. Within minutes, the clarity I awakened with is replaced with the din of the annoying white noise that is calamity of the colliding thoughts in my head.
I decided that I needed to clear my mind, first thing in the morning, before I exercised or after I exercised, in order for me not to be a crazy person. I only have about 20 minutes, so I needed it to be quick, and I couldn’t spend a lot of time thinking about what or how I would write.
Heres’s how a Mind Mosaic® happens:
Randomly (or intentionally) choose 4 of those colliding thoughts.
Condense them into single words to use as headers.
Write the headers anyway you want to, in four separate quadrants. My headers are bolder and larger than the rest of my writing to set them apart. Its a choice. I also write them, as shown, which forces me to turn my notebook in certain directions.
Start with the first quadrant, the one in the upper left. Write quickly without editing yourself.
Move to the second quadrant, the one in the upper right. Turn the notebook and write under that heading.
Move to the third then fourth quadrants and repeat.
Turning my notebook is something that happened organically. The movement, the turning of my notebook, gave me the tactile and kinesthetic experience of “moving on.” I am a worrier by nature, and that worry can turn into rumination, which for me and many can be quite problematic. So, I rein myself in by limiting myself with writing space. I write and then I try to make myself move on.
Certainly, I return to topics and issues in my life that require further attention or that I have yet to learn the intended lessons, if that is necessary. But this has trained my mind to let go of that which I can let go.