An EQ Art Journal Through Gene Key 36.4

When I reached the EQ sphere during my first Gene Keys Venus Retreat in 2020–21, I was lost. The EQ is connected with our emotional imprinting from roughly ages eight to fourteen… and I could remember very little of those years. I had scraps, photographs and a few strong feelings, but no clear story. My own EQ is Gene Key 36.4, moving from Turbulence through Humanity to Compassion. Turbulence I understood! What I didn’t know was how to approach those missing, emotionally charged years without forcing them into a tidy explanation they’d never offered me.

Luckily, I was also part of the Get Messy art-journaling community at the time, and we were in a month called the Season of Self. I began to wonder… what if I made a whole journal about the self I had been during those EQ years? Not an essay. Not a psychological report. An art journal. Something I could build with my hands while memory came in sideways.

I made a nine-page accordion from 8.5-by-5.5-inch cardstock and joined the pages with washi or masking tape. One side moved chronologically through my school years. On the reverse, I explored Gene Key 36.4 through color, images, symbols and bits of language. One side held what had happened. The other held the pattern I was trying to understand.

Then I got out everything I had saved. Scrapbooks. Letters. Certificates and awards. Stories I wrote in the early grades. School portraits and class photographs. My mother’s Christmas letters about our family. Pictures of homes that mattered to me and, of course, my horse. Each page gathered the surviving pieces of one particular year.

I also attached a small brown envelope to each page. Inside I tucked a handwritten note listing the major things I remembered about that year. I could share the artwork without sharing everything. The page held what had survived in paper and photographs. The envelope held what had survived in me.

There was something else happening too. This work was deeply grounding. Instead of only thinking about my younger emotional self, I was cutting, taping, sorting, writing with colored pens and working with a glue stick. Handling the photographs, letters and small pieces of childhood memorabilia felt mysteriously aligning… as if the physical process could bring together things my mind could not. And it was satisfying! My younger self would have loved this project—the pictures, the secret envelopes, the freedom to make a mess and tell a story without having to explain every part of it.

The journal became a conversation between evidence, memory and the Gene Key. I’m sharing it because you may want to make your own version. You don’t have to do it exactly as I did. This isn’t a formula… just one way through. You can certainly stop here. I’ve made my point! But if this has sparked an idea and you’d like to play with it, keep reading.

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Create Your Own EQ Art Journal

You don’t need a complete childhood archive. You don’t even need clear memories. Start with whatever you have… one photograph, a report card, a family story or the memory of a room. Sometimes one small thing opens the next door. I used ages eight to fourteen because I was exploring my EQ, but you can choose any group of years that keeps tugging at you.

1. Build the accordion

My accordion has nine pages made from 8.5-by-5.5-inch cardstock, which is simply an 8.5-by-11-inch sheet cut in half. I joined the short edges with washi or masking tape so the pages could fold back and forth. You can use the same size, change it or use whatever paper is already sitting in your supplies. And if making an accordion feels like one task too many, please use a journal you already own! One page or spread can hold each year. The inner work matters more than the binding.

2. Plan the two sides

I used one side for my chronological school years and the reverse for Gene Key 36.4. That gave me two stories running beside each other. One held the life I could remember and document. The other held the pattern I was trying to understand. You might use your own Gene Key there… or a question you keep circling, a group of symbols or another thread from your inner work. There isn’t one right way to do this.

3. Choose the years

Decide what each page will hold… one age, one school year or one important period. I liked working chronologically because it gave me a path when my memories were scattered. You can write the ages on slips of paper, make little page tabs or pencil them in and change your mind later. Nothing here has to be permanent.

4. Gather what remains

Open the scrapbooks. Dig through the photograph boxes and old files. You may find school portraits, class pictures, letters, certificates, report cards, family newsletters, childhood stories, drawings, ticket stubs or pictures of homes, pets and places that mattered. Use originals only if that feels right. I prefer copies because I can cut them up, write on them, shrink them and make a glorious mess without worrying that I have destroyed the family archive!

5. Sort loosely by year

Make a folder or pile for each year. Exact dates are useful, but they don’t get to boss the page around. A photograph may belong because of the room behind the person, the clothes, the horse at the fence… or simply the feeling that rises when you hold it. Let the official record give you the facts. Let memory and intuition tell you what is still alive.

6. Build the visible pages

On the chronological side, begin with whatever has the most energy. A photograph. A school story. A letter or an award. Then add whatever helps you feel that year… patterned paper, colored pens, handwriting, ribbon, fabric, stickers, copied documents or images from books and magazines. I ended up using handmade lace and doilies. Glue sticks make all of this wonderfully simple! On the reverse, let the Gene Key or inner-work theme find its own colors, symbols, phrases and questions. Neither side has to explain everything. In fact, it probably can’t.

7. Add private envelopes

Attach a small envelope to each chronological page, or make your own little pocket from whatever you are already using. On a separate note, write down the major things you remember about that age. Facts. Feelings. Rooms. People. Losses. Pleasures. Odd little details. Anything that belongs to the year but doesn’t need to sit out in the open. This boundary was especially important to me because some of those years held tender things. The page could be shared. The memory could remain held.

8. Let the making reveal the story

As the accordion grows, notice what repeats. Colors. Faces. Missing years. Achievements. Houses. Animals. Rules. Emotional weather. The ways you learned to make yourself safe. You don’t have to figure it all out. Let the remembered child and the symbolic language sit beside each other for a while. Sometimes meaning appears in the space between them… and sometimes it simply needs more time. That is okay too.

One last thing. Childhood material can stir up more than we expect. Go slowly. Stop when you need to. Keep private what needs protecting, and ask for support if the work opens more than you want to hold alone. This isn’t a test of your memory, your insight or your art skills. It is simply a place where the child you were can leave some traces… and where the adult you are can meet her with curiosity and kindness. Give both of you plenty of room to breathe.

I’d love to see what this sparks for you. Maybe you’ll make an accordion journal. Maybe it’ll be one page, a collage, a poem, a memory envelope or something completely different. If you feel like sharing it with us, please do! It doesn’t have to be finished or explained, and it certainly doesn’t have to look like mine. Share only what feels comfortable. I’m always inspired by the different places one idea can take us.