The Real Magic of Journaling Happens off the Page

I’ve been a journal skeptic for most of my life. But recently, I realized I’d been looking at the thing all wrong. I mistakenly believed I was not journaling material. That my life was too mundane, too ordinary, and maybe—dare I say—too private to put down on paper, where my children could one day read my innermost thoughts.

I think I was trying to make the practice into a memoir—like the epic Diary of Samuel Pepys. Like so many things, journaling is what you make it.

Three things I believe to be true about journaling

• One size does not fit all.
• There is no right way to journal.
• The benefits reveal themselves almost imperceptibly over a long, long time.

For years, people have given me blank, empty journals. Why? I guess because I’m a writer, and sometimes a wannabe writer who doesn’t write enough; therefore, a journal can serve as a blank slate onto which one ideates, reflects, and plans.

Those gifted blank journals never inspired me to write. Not a single word. Rather, they taunted me from a nightstand table or a shelf in my room. Of course, I said, “Thank you so much,” every time a well-meaning friend gave me one of those lovely blank books. Some I regifted. Others I donated along with other unwanted books.

In truth, I just didn’t know how to start. Like a pair of dumbbells propped against a door, I didn’t know how to begin. (Maybe I could make those blank journals into a doorstop?)

I started watching videos about journaling. Ryder Carroll, creator of the Bullet Journal method, inspired me to pick up a blank journal with no lines but rather a grid of light gray dots.

Look at the plethora of videos about "BuJo," and you will quickly feel as embarrassed as I did when seeing the beautiful spreads that influencers have created on those lovely blank pages. They connected the dots to make grids, calendars, and habit trackers. Some wrote in beautiful scripts, others employed stamps, and still others colored the pages with markers and watercolors. They transformed those double-page spreads into works of art.

My journal attempts only taunted me with the ugly shapes of my own handwritten lines.

One woman showed me how to make pockets, Dutch doors, and hinges.

Researchers, too, have taken up the "BuJo" mantle. “Particularly noteworthy is how Bullet Journals function as a self-regulation tool, encouraging users to design notebook layouts and content based on their current psychological needs” (Almeida da Silva et al., 2025).

I tried. I really did try. I carefully drew my own four-month calendar and added in important dates as reminders of what was coming up in the next season. But appointment calendars lose their effect when you don’t remember to look at them. My journal rested on my nightstand. Reminders didn’t remind me. Dates slipped away.

Journal in the morning to plan your day. Journal at night to reflect on your day. Carry a pocket-sized Field Notes journal to write down your thoughts throughout the day.

I kept a pocket journal in my purse. It ended up being a nice, safe place to store receipts that were often useful for bookkeeping, but not for mind-expanding thoughts.

Then something miraculous happened. I tried meditating on my lack of journaling skills. I had followed the practice of sitting quietly for 20 minutes each morning contemplating. But meditation is another practice I have failed at. My ADHD brain constantly ping-pongs from one idea to another.

Some great ideas evaporated before my session ended because I simply forgot the thought, even when, at the same time, I was thinking, "Oh, I’ll remember that for sure."

Finally, I thought, "What if I set my open journal on my lap while I meditated?" No intention, just an invitation to capture those fleeting thoughts before they disappear.

Productive Meditation

Suddenly, meditating became productive in a positive way, and journaling felt useful.

Maybe it was the dimness of my morning bedroom. Maybe it was the informality of my writing. It didn’t matter that my handwriting was bad. It just felt useful to have this depository for my ideas.

After the 20 minutes, and after breakfast and coffee, I sometimes reread the morning’s notes and organize and clarify those random ideas. I highlight the best ones, making them easier to find later. Ten minutes of this focused analysis yielded ideas for articles, YouTube video scripts, and projects. I could sort out the steps to begin, tackle, and finish long-standing "someday maybe" projects.

I captured those ideas neatly within the covers of my journals.

Journaling has helped me tackle "ghost" projects simply because I can see my notes and revisit them. I can add to the notes. I can copy them over. I can even tear out pages.

In the end, I realized that journaling is a lot like going to the gym. You don’t see the benefits at first. But after a while, you notice that you can lift that heavy grocery bag or move that overstuffed chair without complaint. Your muscles are stronger. Your endurance has increased. Your lung capacity has improved.

Maybe the real magic of journaling is not what happens on the page. Maybe it’s what becomes possible off the page.

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