Seven Years. One Notebook at a Time.

Happy 2026.

This is my yearly ritual—one I wanted to share with you.

A new year arrives, and almost automatically, we reach for new things: new protocols, new supplements, new plans, new versions of ourselves.

We’re conditioned to believe progress lives in addition.

But what if some of the most meaningful shifts aren’t ahead at all? What if they’re hiding in our old notebooks—thoughts we wrote down and never returned to? The questions, the fears, the half-formed ideas, the orphaned thoughts.

Why Looking Back Works

Before I look forward, I look back. Change rarely comes from one bold move. It comes from choices repeated long enough to form patterns.

Behavioral science shows:

• Lives are shaped less by motivation than by systems

• The brain changes through repetition, not intensity

• Patterns—not willpower—determine outcomes

  
  

James Clear calls this the power of tiny gains: small, consistent actions compound into extraordinary results. A 1% shift, repeated daily, becomes identity. Journals capture these gains, turning vague effort into visible evidence.

Tim Ferriss highlights innovation hidden in the “orphaned”: ideas abandoned too soon, notes never revisited, experiments not given enough time. Our journals are full of these!

Rereading your past work also triggers gratitude and dopamine, rewarding the brain, reinforcing agency, and motivating behaviors that actually create outcomes. Reflection isn’t nostalgia—it’s a feedback loop for momentum.

How This Ritual Started

Seven years ago, I began journaling as part of my health journey—not to manifest, optimize, or reinvent myself. One page a day. Sometimes messy. Sometimes repetitive. Sometimes just enough to survive.

Over time, those pages did what willpower couldn’t. Quietly. Patiently. Without spectacle.

What the Journals Taught Me

Me reviewing 7 years of writing on New Year's day.

• Patterns beat motivation. Lasting change comes from systems, not emotional drive.

• Small questions matter more than big goals. Frequent, low-pressure check-ins improve clarity and emotional regulation.

• You don’t fix your life—you audit it. Writing shifts the brain from reactivity to analysis.

• Progress hides in boring consistency. Small, repeated actions rewire the brain.

• Writing clarifies thinking. Expressive writing reduces stress, strengthens immunity, and forces precision.

  
  

And one lesson rises above the rest:

Most breakthroughs didn’t come from doing more. They came from subtracting what wasn’t aligned.

The urgent often crushes the important as Tim Ferriss says. Saying no to what drains us, removing unnecessary tasks, and pausing before adding the next shiny thing is where real breakthroughs happen. Small, aligned, consistent actions matter more than loud, urgent, or overwhelming ones.

What Reviewing the Notebooks Highlighted

This year, rereading my journals was humbling. Three truths stood out:

1. Dreams are built one fearful step at a time. Confidence follows action, not the other way around.

2. You don’t fix your life—you audit it. Awareness creates momentum before effort.

3. Alignment beats pushing. Forcing outcomes drains; alignment carries forward with less burnout.

It’s powerful to see that the health, dream business, home, and family rhythm I now live were once just words on a page. The notebooks show it was built one choice, one habit, one honest sentence at a time.

The Alignment Audit: 3 Questions to Reflect & Move Forward

Try this simple ritual to turn reflection into momentum:

1. What repeats in my life—good or bad? Make two columns: double down / stop doing.

2. Where am I overcomplicating things? What can I subtract to feel more aligned?

3. What small experiment can I try today to move closer to alignment without stress?

   
   

Never journaled? No problem. Even one sentence a day—‘Today I noticed…’—can reveal more than you expect. If writing is not your thing, you can try using photos from 2025. Look at moments that made you proud, the small wins, and chaotic or joyful times. Ask the same three questions. Visual reflection often reveals insights words alone can’t.

As I stand at the beginning of this new year, I’m humbled. Everything that is now part of me—health, work, home, family—was once just words on a page. Dreams. Questions. Quiet hopes.

Maybe the greatest gift we can give ourselves this year is to rescue the wisdom we already have and let it guide us forward.

Happy 2026, with immense awe and gratitude for the journey so far.