Then start the next paragraph or page with the phrase, "I remember..." and write until you can't think of anything else to write.
Then do it once again. You will find that three is often a magic number in writing.(More about that another day...)
Then, because the brain will get bored, start your next page or paragraph with the phrase, "I don't remember...
Try not to dwell on whether or not you can write about something you can't remember. Just do it! This can be a wonderful tool for tapping into your subconscious mind, getting a hold on memories that may seem elusive.
Then, if you want to, use this journal entry to write a poem or story or song. Or use it to make a visual piece of art. For example, here are a couple of poems I wrote using this technique:
HOW TO GO ABOUT UNDERSTANDING
WITHOUT STEPPING ON IT DIRECTLY
I remember developing breasts,
(it was the same year the Russians launched Sputnik)
and going with my aunt to buy my first fully-trained bra,
and learning from the lady at Tots-to-Teens
how important it would be someday
to bend over at the waist when I put it on
and the first time I bent over.
I remember learning that there were men in the world
who wanted to teach me about the men in the world,
and how the faint strong smell of bleach
tinted my sheets last week after I washed the colors
with the whites and left them on the line to dry
bleeding happily all together.
I don’t remember learning I would die,
but it must have been like stepping casually
into a freshly laundered dream,
like slipping into a white tulip skirt
trimmed round the hem
with crimson quatrefoils and tears.
I wonder if I cried,
and when the flowers will start to bleed.
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BETWEEN THE LINES
I like to be the first one asleep
and the second one awake;
I like knowing someone else is in charge
of keeping the clocks ticking.
And I like to prop my door just so,
not quite open,
not quite closed,
as though I will be more likely to know
when the future scurries past
like a rat in search of yesterday’s cheese.
I don’t remember a day when I wasn’t afraid,
when I didn’t wake with a start,
shocked to find myself
still part of this planet,
still breathing yet still,
and I always have to stop myself
from imagining the worst.
If I were a flower, I would be a thorn.
If I were a coin, I would land on my face.
If I were a mirror, I would reflect beauty,
unable to capture it for myself.
If I were a chorus, much loved and often sung,
I would long to be a forgotten verse.
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I hope you have a great weekend! And remember...
"Whether you're keeping a journal or writing as a meditation, it's the same thing. What's important is you're having a relationship with your mind."-- Natalie Goldberg