Review by Tina Koyama
In the research world, a longitudinal study involves repeated observations of the same variables over long periods of time. (Although I’m not a researcher, I’ve seen some fascinating documentaries that followed this method.) Probably the closest thing I can think of to a longitudinal study of my own life is my Leuchtturm 1917 Some Lines a Day diary. I initially reviewed the book here when I first began using it in late 2020. More than a year later, I checked in with a follow-up. I’m now in my fifth year of this five-year diary, so it seemed like a good time to write a final follow-up.
Like any long-term relationship, my Some Lines and I have had our ups and downs. As mentioned in my initial review, I began the book on my birthday in November 2020 to help me focus my feelings toward others in a more positive direction. Many of those early entries, made during the pre-vaccine days of COVID, are some of the most meaningful to me now because reading them reminds me of the kindnesses of strangers I encountered during that weird, isolated time.
During especially difficult periods, I sometimes stopped writing in the book for months; other times I skipped only a few days. When I get to a page with a missing entry, I feel a little regretful, but that’s life. The important thing is not to give up altogether just because some spaces are empty. I just pick it up again when I’m ready.
I change the general theme or prompt occasionally, but I always keep the focus on appreciation and gratitude. It’s an easy way to begin: “Today I’m grateful for…” “Today I appreciate…” “A kind thought today for…” The past year or so, I’ve been using the prompt “Today’s highlight,” and it’s amazing how such a simple, general prompt keeps me from writing some stupid complaint that I know I will not want to recall a year or two years or five years from now.
Ultimately, that’s the key to how I have been using Some Lines a Day: I think about what I would like to recall when I inevitably see the same page and all of its prior entries again in the succeeding years.
For a while, I was using the book to help get me outside of my own head (where I had been spending too much troubled time) by making external observations only. Here’s one from June 9, 2023: “A streak of blue across my walking path: a Steller’s jay. Meanwhile, crows take turns barking at me repeatedly.” And another a few days later: “Goose poop all over one part of the trail. Kathleen and I pick our way to avoid it, pausing our conversation in concentration. Drizzle all morning, but balmy.”
Those kinds of observations pushed me to be more conscious of my surroundings so that I would have something to write. Reading them in later years, though, wasn’t quite as satisfying as simple gratitude statements, especially about other people. I especially enjoy recalling interactions with others. Whatever it was feels like a gift twice: Once when it happened, and again when I remembered it.
Some of the most interesting entries from prior years were those that made me conscious of the passage of time (or lack thereof). OMG – was that two whole years ago? Or: Wow, was that only three years ago? I often used the current entry to remark on those observations.
One name for this type of format – the date at the top of the page, followed by space on the same page for multiple years of entries for the same date – is a perpetual journal used by nature journalers. The format is especially useful for observing changes in natural phenomena like when a plant flowered (was it earlier or later than last year?). I occasionally used Some Lines to record extreme weather conditions, but I found that unless I used it that way consistently, it won’t show patterns over time. I do think, however, that Some Lines would make a great perpetual nature journal if that sort of thing interests you.
In addition to using Some Lines a Day, I also keep a general long-form journal (as I have my whole life). Occasionally, writing in Some Days feels redundant of something I intend to expand on further in my other journal. Interestingly, though, the shorter entry in Some Days acts as an index of sorts. If I want to read more about what I was thinking about that topic, I can dig out my long-form journal for the same date (though, admittedly, I rarely do).
The huge benefit of Some Lines over a traditional long-form journal is its longitudinal nature. Unless I were to go back and read years and years of journals (which I’m never inclined to do), it’s hard to get the same sense of how different (or not) one year is from the next. Some Lines gives me that in an easy snapshot. For example, on one day in early 2021, I mentioned anxiety about COVID. By 2022 on the same date, I was happy to be able to see friends, but still generally cautious. In 2023, I read those prior entries and celebrated that life finally felt mostly “normal” again.
The longer I use Some Lines, the more I learn about how I want to use it. Early on, some entries were vague and general: “I’m grateful that today was so much better than yesterday.” That’s not very interesting or useful to read a year later. That taught me to be specific enough that I would understand and usually why it was a better day: “Grateful for times when my body is not filled with anxiety.”
During some periods when I was tempted to stop using Some Lines, I vowed never to get another one. Today, I feel just the opposite: When I complete this one at the end of the year, I’m looking forward to beginning the next one. As I had mentioned in my initial review, my mother had been a lifelong journaler who favored the five-year format. She is probably nodding with satisfaction that we share the same penchant now.
Tina Koyama is an urban sketcher in Seattle. Her blog is Fueled by Clouds & Coffee, and you can follow her on Instagram as Miatagrrl.
