Soft skills: Putting thoughts to paper
The gentle act of translating thought into ink
Journaling is something I’ve done all my life. I have a box at home filled with notebooks going back to when I was about ten, pages and pages of my thoughts and how I saw the world. Looking back now makes me smile. The things that felt so big at the time, like whether my parents would let me join Bebo or what my outfit inspiration was for my confirmation.
Writing has always been a way to process and narrate the world as I experience it. It’s how I make sense of things, how I capture small moments, and how I get to look back at different chapters of life. As someone who tends to overthink, getting words onto the page brings a wonderfully relaxing sense of release. Journaling helps us process emotions and connect inwardly. Sometimes by writing, our current emotional state becomes clearer. It gives us a way to check in with ourselves, to notice how we truly are, and to create space for stillness within all the noise.
Research shows we have tens of thousands of thoughts a day, but how often do we actually capture them? When we write them down, we can question, explore, and understand what sits beneath them. Like meditation, journaling helps clear the mind and bring perspective. And when it feels like technology is starting to think for us, going old school with pen and paper keeps our minds sharp, creative, and reflective.
The energy of pen and paper
I’ve tried journaling on my iPad, laptop, and Notes app, but nothing compares to the satisfaction of writing by hand. It just flows differently.
When so much of life happens through screens for work, socialising, and entertainment, picking up a pen feels like a small act of rebellion. It gives your eyes and mind a break from blue light and your thoughts a different texture.
Studies show that handwriting activates more areas of the brain linked to creativity, focus, and emotional processing than typing does. Beyond that, it simply feels grounding. Having a physical notebook is also a visual reminder to write. When things are hidden away in an app, I rarely feel prompted, but seeing a journal on my bedside table invites me back.
Writing by hand is slower, which means the mind slows too. You fall into a gentle rhythm where thoughts unfold naturally. It becomes a mindful practice rather than a productive one. The act of connecting hand, ink, and page feels like a way of tuning in to my own inner rhythm. As someone who loves beauty and design (maybe that’s the Leo in me), having my leather journal and ink pen makes it feel like a luxurious ritual. While you don’t need a fancy notebook, it definitely doesn’t hurt.
When to Write
There is no right or wrong way to journal, but there are many ways to approach it.
I used to only journal when I was stressed or anxious, as a way to offload my thoughts. But when I looked back, I realised my notebooks only captured one side of life. Now, I write more regularly so I can see the full picture, the highs, the lows, and the in-between. It helps me notice how things that once worried me eventually worked out, and how life, with all its twists and turns, seems to guide me to where I need to be. It has helped me trust more deeply in God, the universe, and timing itself (most of the time)
Morning journalling: a lovely way to clear your mind before the day begins. Often if there is something you really want to prioritise, whether it’s movement, meditation, or simply being more present, doing it first thing helps you follow through before the day fills up. Journalling in the morning can feel like emptying the bin or tidying the mind before you step into the world. It brings clarity, intention, and lightness.
Evening reflection: a gentle space to process your day and wind down. You might reflect on what felt good, what challenged you, or what you learned. Some people like to include prompts such as “what am I grateful for?” or “how did I show up for myself today?” For me, evenings can be tricky, as soon as I take out my journal, I want to sleep, but for others it can be the perfect time. If writing in the mornings feels like a too yin/slow way to start the day, evenings when the workday is done might suit you better.
Whenever inspiration strikes: I often carry my journal with me and write in cafés or quiet corners when I feel inspired. There is no perfect time.
With any habit, it is said that trying to do it at a similar time each day, or on the same days you usually write, helps it become part of the rhythm of your life. To avoid decision fatigue, you don’t have to think, “when should I write today?” It just becomes something you do.
What to write about
There’s no single way to journal, and that’s what makes it such a freeing practice. Some days your words pour out easily, other days you might stare at the page not knowing where to be.
Unstructured flow: My go-to is just opening a blank page and writing. No real structure, no major plan, just writing and seeing what happens. Usually it’s a mix of what I’ve been doing, how I’ve been feeling, what feels good or not so good, what I’d like to happen, any decisions or ideas that are swirling around. You get the idea. It’s a real brain dump, but I do make an effort to go a bit deeper than recording my day-to-day. If there’s something I’m unsure about, my journal is always my first place to go. Writing helps me understand how I really feel about something, what I want, and what might be behind it.
Weekly or monthly reflections: I usually do bullet points for this, it’s simple and grounding. I’ll write about what I’d like to happen that month, my intentions, happy memories, what could have gone better, what I’m proud of, and what I’ve learned. I like to start each month by reflecting on the one just gone and then writing out my hopes for what’s ahead. It’s a lovely way to take stock, close a chapter, and set a new tone.
Morning pages: A popular style of journaling from The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. The idea is to write three full A4 pages, first thing in the morning, in a conscious stream, no filter, no editing. Just write whatever comes out. Some days it might read more like a to-do list, and other days you’ll be surprised by creative ideas or insights that appear in the middle of it all. It can feel challenging at first, but getting everything out clears the mental clutter and creates space for new ideas to flow.
Prompts or questions: If your first thought is “but I don’t know what to write about,” starting with a prompt can help. It’s a way of going deeper than simply recording what you did that day. Asking yourself questions feels almost like a self-interview and sometimes your answers surprise you, especially when you’re not thinking about how they’ll sound. Some prompts to start with:
How am I feeling right now?
What do I need today?
What’s been taking up space in my mind?
Who or what am I grateful for?
What would feel exciting next?
Gratitude journalling: I have a small notebook beside my bed where I write a few things I’m grateful for each day. You can use a dedicated one like The Five Minute Journal or any notebook you already have. I like keeping it simple, a few lines is enough. It’s a really nice practice to focus on the good in your life, and as Brené Brown says, to cultivate the attitide and practice of gratitude as a daily habit.
Manifestation writing: A more playful way to write is to journal as if your wildest dreams and hopes have already happened. It’s a fun way to connect with possibility and imagination. Prompts could be:
If I could do anything with my career, what would it be?
Where would I love to travel next?
What does my higher self look and feel like?
What would my ideal week look like?
The alchemy of seeing your own words
Getting your thoughts onto paper is powerful, but reflection adds another layer of magic. Every so often, look back through old entries and notice what has shifted. Patterns, lessons, and growth all begin to appear.
You might notice dreams that have come true, challenges that softened, or themes that return. Sometimes you just smile reading about moments you’d forgotten. The key is to read with gentleness and curiosity, not judgement.
Over time, rereading your words becomes an act of self-trust. You start to see that you’ve always known more than you realised at the time. The answers you once searched for are often already there, written between the lines.
You might also see how feelings and experiences move in cycles, much like the seasons — returning in new forms until their lesson lands. It’s a reminder that growth is rarely linear, and that reflection itself can be healing.
Sometimes, revisiting those pages brings a physical release — a sigh, a smile, a tear. It’s your body remembering that version of you and softening toward her.
Reflection turns journalling into creation. By honouring what has been, you begin to write what will be. In a world always rushing toward the next thing, this quiet ritual teaches us that looking back can guide us forward.
There’s something quietly magical about it all. Words once written in uncertainty become proof of your becoming.
