These are the facts: I’m writing this on Friday 15th of November, 2024. The first Barcelona Journaling Festival had its final day last Sunday. We had two days of training with Kay Adams, author of 14 books on journaling, and one of the pioneers of therapeutic writing. The event passed without major hiccups, thanks to my co-founder Marusha.
The rest is a mix of magic and old fashioned luck. What happened at the festival was mystical and magical. At least it felt like it. Within what seemed like seconds, there was a community building. People started talking to each other, connecting. Hopefully creating red threads to run through lifetimes.
We had some strategies in place, like a buddy system and a traffic light stickers for communication, yet it felt it was unnessary. What happens when you give people a space, a room, a gap, they will fill it. And they will fill it with what you offer.
We offered freedom to talk, freedom to connect and to write. Freedom to create a community.
In an old converted sweets factory, we had speakers from the US, UK, Sweden, Portugal, Russia and Spain, with guests from Egypt, Iceland, UK, US and Australia.
Our little event grew into a hub. A space with literal and figurative high ceilings, where everyone was included.
Before we did the event, we had reservations. Will we do it again? Will it work? How do you even run a festival?
By the end of day 1, we were high on emotions, high on being high on emotions, and so happy it was clear that this could not be a one-time event. The main reason? People loved it. We loved it. I’ve never been this happy in my life.
Why? Because it worked. Because we saw participants joinining in. Writing. Sharing. Expressively writing, and having breakthroughs. All the workshops ended up with someone saying something along the lines of “wow, I didn’t know journaling could do this”.
That is what we wanted. To create an event around a tool we use every day. It’s like two carpenters arranging the Barcelona Plank Festival.
What happened for me, though, was a different shift. This is the first time I’ve spent time with other professionals. I could have a chat about dialogue writing and how I might be interrupted by a third character in my journaling without sounding crazy. We could discuss how a sequence of techniques might help generate the results we are looking for, and how different types of paper might inspire different types of writing.
Feeling a part of the professional community elevated me, and included me. It gave me a sense of belonging, a sense of purpose.
This might be the most impactful experience for me: knowing that regardless what happens, my journaling practice has a deep impact on me. My process of teaching has a deep impact on others.
And now I have a network of other teachers I can talk shop with.
Nails, hammers, planks. How one type of saw might be better than another.
Thank you to everyone who made this possible!
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