The Book of Alchemy: A guide to the art of journalling

Small talk has its place, of course. The checkout person does not get paid enough to hear the truth, and there are people in our lives with whom it’s not safe for us to share our tenderest truths. But among the people who matter most to us, why do we relegate such a fruitful question—How are you?—to shallow small talk? And what would happen if we d

“To remember somebody means to put them back together and to hold them within ourselves. As everybody knows—or will come to know—people who you can’t live without die, and you keep living. But once they’re dead, they can be with us all the time.”

THIS IS YOUR PROMPT: What food evokes a transporting moment of time and place? Taste the moment and write down everything you can remember.

THIS IS YOUR PROMPT: Pick five items from the list below. popcorn * lettuce * iceberg * cotton candy * puffs * sugar cubes * dandelions * buttercups * pallbearer * clothesline * National Geographic * fire ants * watermelon * sunflowers * ticket stub * campfire * satellite * fish scales * baby powder * quilt * brooch * barrette * tin can * bingo * F

When memories make themselves manifest, they alight like butterflies—fleeting, momentary, ineffable, seemingly uncapturable. The task of the writer then, having had the epiphany embedded within memory, is to relate not only the message from the dream embedded within the memory, but to also articulate, in language, that nebulous nature of the memory

THIS IS YOUR PROMPT: Write about a teacher, cataloging what you remember (good, bad, and otherwise) and how you saw them as a child. Then write about them as the student of life you are today.

THIS IS YOUR PROMPT: Create a “mind map.” Choose a year, a place, a person, or a favorite word. On a page in your journal, write it down, and begin mapping out the web of associations and memories that appear in your mind. Follow it where it leads.

I will begin again as a narrator, telling stories to keep him close to us. Telling tall tales that protect our daughter from the parts of the story that are too painful. I imagine being left in a fog of uncertainty, fear, and confusion. When the fog begins to lift, I will begin again as grateful—for what we had and what, of him, I still have. I wil

THIS IS YOUR PROMPT: Write about an important first—where someone taught you how to use or do something. It could be anything: a cooking lesson, fixing a flat tire, learning to drive, helping a cow give birth, taking the swim test, riding a bike over a rooted mountainside, cutting in paint on a wall, or kayaking on the river. When you finish, consi