Six is small enough to survive a bad week
Long-form journalling fails on the days it is needed most. Six short lines still get written at 11pm on a Tuesday, and a method you keep is worth more than a method you admire.
Two minutes at each end of the day.
Practice is not a journalling philosophy. It is six printed lines, asked at two fixed moments, for ninety days — short enough that you keep doing it on the days you do not feel like it.
- 2 min
Written before the day starts moving. Three lines, no more, ideally before the first message you read.
- 01
Intention
The one thing that would make today count.
- 02
Obstacle
What is most likely to get in the way of it.
- 03
One small win
Something small you can finish before noon.
Why six, and why ninety
Both ends of the day, or neither
The morning lines set an intention you can be held to. The night lines are what hold you to it. On their own, either half becomes a diary; together they close a loop.
Ninety days is one visible season
Long enough to see the shape of your own weeks, short enough to finish. The book ends, you read it back, and you decide whether to start another one.
The whole method fits on one card.
It ships in the front of every book, so you never have to look anything up.
Buy the journal