The Day I Gave Up Trying to Sound Wise

I used to sit with my journal and hope that something brilliant would come pouring out. I even visualized the stream of words flowing so fast, I wouldn’t be able to keep up. Instead, nothing flowed. Instead, I would color code the surface-level paragraphs, in my most neatly printed handwriting, with gel pens I thought were my path forward. If nothing else, I was at least pleased with how the page looked.

But one day, I had nothing, nothing at all. So I wrote, “The paint on my desk is chipped.” That sentence did more for me than three pages of self-reflection ever had. Strangely, just seeing the words on the paper made me realize that I paused long enough to actually notice the chipped paint. I felt relieved that my thoughts were at rest.

There’s this pressure in journaling…to be insightful, poetic, original. Especially if you’ve ever seen a flat lay of a journal entry paired with a latte, dried flowers, and soft sunlight. Oh Instagram! But what happens when you don’t have the words? Or the energy?

One day, I didn’t write anything profound. I just noticed.

The chipped paint. The hum of the fridge. The slight smell of burnt coffee.

Something shifted. I felt at ease.

I stopped performing and started witnessing. The practice, now part of my ritual, became presence.

And presence is enough.

Prompt: Right now I see/hear/smell/feel…

If you want to explore this kind of writing with others, you’re welcome in The Glow Circle. It’s where we practice noticing together.