A while ago, I got the idea into my head to make junk journals to sell on Etsy. I got a variety of papers and cardboards and ephemera together to make them and enjoyed the process.

While decluttering last month, I found my stash of handmade junk journals. I’d sold none. I’m not even sure if I’d put them up for sell. Sometimes as a creative, you can have these ideas and instigate them only to fall short of the finish line. Something else might take your attention away, something more shiny or you could allow fear and doubt to step in and paralysis the process from moving any further.

I’m not sure what happened with these junk journals but I felt the urge to just use them on my return from Iceland.

I need something that’s self contained and discreet as I put myself back together after the time away. I felt free and unhurried and playful while away. Now back I have to slip back into responsibilities and worries and demands from others, and to be honest it’s a rough textured blanket against my skin at the moment.

I’m still remembering and wanting to be with the smooth soft caresses of Iceland. And dream into the landscape.

So maybe keeping the bar low. Just making sure I turn up to the page daily and working out the feelings and kinks is enough right now.

Almost like beginning again. Each new day is day one. No pressure and no comparisons just be. I feel attempting this in a clean journal, a clean slate is doable at the moment.

Hence cracking open my homemade junk journal and just allowing whatever needs to turn up, turn up.