Journaling to heal, reflect, and grow

Twelve years of journals

Hi friends,

Since November 2010, I have journaled regularly, pouring my heart onto the page with no goal other than to keep the words flowing, judgment-free. Nearly 13 years of reflection, doubt, worry, celebration, adventure, travel, and joy is packed into notebooks. As of this writing, in late winter 2023, I have about 26 journals stacked in my closet. They’re everyday journals of observations and free writing with no agenda. Then there’s the one-line-a-day journal, The Daily Stoic’s journal (guided), and a financial/investing journal I started during the pandemic. Another few hundred pages of journal entries sit in iCloud, back when I journaled on a computer.

Here are just about all of them:

Journals include Moleskin and Costco’s brand

I’ve since gone all-in on longhand writing, with a sharp No. 2 pencil, to minimize screen time and distraction, but also because writing by hand carries a spiritual air that fosters creativity and ideas. There’s a craftiness to writing, pencil (or pen) to paper.

By writing nearly daily, one grows closer to the heart and soul. You give the mind some space to breathe when you quietly sit with the journal and write about what happened, how you’re feeling, and what you’re looking forward to. Journaling centers you and sweeps away anxiety. Many medical experts have supported that journaling is one of the most recommended tools for a clearer mind and fulfilling life.

Lately, I’ve done Julia Cameron’s morning pages routine, three pages of longhand, stream-of-consciousness writing, ideally done first thing in the morning. There’s no wrong way to do Morning Pages. The list of artists, musicians, creators, and leaders who cite Morning Pages as transformative in their process makes it too compelling to ignore.

Every few weeks, nostalgia sets in when I open an old journal and start reading about when I was hesitant to do X, worrying about Y, or excited about Z. By re-reading old journals, you might notice when you’ve fallen into old patterns, revisited bad habits, and not taken the best care of yourself. But you also notice the times when you cultivated excellent habits and aligned with who you want to be.

This is one reason I believe the written word is the most powerful invention in human history.

“All life is temporary and we never really know how long it will be,” I wrote in my journal on a September morning a few years ago. “So, find joy in the small things, take care of yourself and others, and cry when you must.”

“What do you dream of?” I asked myself in a journal in the summer of 2016. “Why am I so anxious right now?” I pondered in another entry.

Entires can be simple and sentimental, like on November 12, 2011, when all I wrote was: “Walked for an hour in the park with dad and it was a pleasant time. Now we have a four-day weekend together.”

“Change the dial,” I wrote in September 2019. “There are many possible versions of you out there. You just need to adjust how you perceive yourself to discover them.”

“I have discovered this great feeling that I love to read,” I wrote on Christmas Eve, 2010, in eighth grade.

While wrapping up college at Syracuse, I wrote: “You have a life worth loving.”

The possibilities for journaling are endless. You could journal about anything you wish. You could keep a commonplace journal, an inspirational journal, a finances journal, a creativity journal, a depression journal, a happiness journal, or a journal through a battle with cancer/illness. You could write one line a day for the next five years and end up with a beautiful book. It doesn’t take a whole lot. But compound a little effort and reflection each day, and voila, you build something.

When I have children, I will try to journal every day as they grow up to record the little moments that spark joy. There’s no shortage of reasons or occasions to journal. Nobody needs to read your words if you’d like. You may also draw, paint, or tape relevant pictures, articles, or artifacts to your journal pages. For example, I’ve been taping cards and handwritten letters to various pages.

The other day, a tweet asked: If your house were on fire, what would you take? I’d grab my collection of journals, for they carry all my hopes, dreams, and memories. There’s no price tag on that.

Celebrate your gifts,

Matthew

P.S. — Thank you for reading and trusting me with these words, a privilege I don’t take lightly. If Inner Peace has helped you in some way, please consider forwarding this email to someone you care about.