Reverse Journaling: Feeding the Hopper

There is a practice that is called reverse journaling.

It’s not something I do every day. In fact, I rarely do it. But when I do, something interesting happens. Instead of writing about what happened or what I’m moving through, I write about what I want to experience as though it has already happened.

Almost like feeding a hopper.

I place thoughts, feelings, intentions, experiences, and possibilities into the hopper before the day begins. Not in some grandiose, “manifest the life of your dreams” kind of way.

It can be incredibly simple.

How do I want to wake up?

How do I want to feel?

How do I want to move through the day?

How do I want to respond when something doesn’t go according to plan?

What do I want to accomplish?

What do I want to notice?

Where do I want to place my energy?

What do I want to leave behind?

I’ve been doing this for a few days straight.

I think I started because my routine has been thrown completely out of whack.

Since moving to a new location over the summer, renovations, unfinished projects, and the general uncertainty of living through change have altered the familiar rhythms of my days.

It has reminded me of something I talk about often:

Change requires fluidity.

Sometimes we don’t get to choose the conditions around us. We get to choose how we meet them.

The importance of a place to land

I never realized how important a stable, safe place to sleep could be. Or how important a bedroom could be to our nervous system.

Or how significant those two bookends of the day really are:

Getting out of bed.

Getting back into it.

The morning begins before our feet ever touch the floor.

There is something powerful about giving yourself a few moments before immediately reaching for the phone, checking messages, or allowing the outside world to tell you what your day is supposed to be.

A thought.

A prayer.

A breath.

A moment of gratitude.

A smile.

It sets the stage for the upcoming day.

Then the feet hit the floor and we begin.

We work.

We learn.

We create.

We serve others in our own particular way.

Maybe we just simply make it through a difficult day while doing our best.

All of it counts.

Throughout the day, we can continue returning to ourselves.

Drink some water.

Eat something nourishing.

Take a walk.

Listen to music.

Read a few pages.

Laugh.

Breathe.

Notice the sunlight.

Pause before responding.

Offer ourselves the same care we might naturally offer to someone we love.

We enter the day, but there is the other bookend.

Getting back into bed.

The day is over.

Whatever happened happened.

Whatever didn’t happen didn’t happen.

You tried your best with the awareness you had that day.

Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.

So how do you want to close the door on today?

For me, there is something deeply comforting about entering sleep with appreciation for all that transpired. All the energy and effort that was needed to move throughout the day.

It’s important not to get stuck in attaching energy to what didn’t go according to plan. It’s not that everything goes perfectly.

The appreciation is because I showed up.

I participated.

I experienced.

I learned.

I loved.

I struggled.

I created.

I tried.

And now I get to rest. Well deserved!

I love coffee in the morning.

I love tea at night.

Those have become bookends for my day.

Coffee to enter.

Tea to exit.

And a whole bunch of life sandwiched in between.

My nightstand has become an anchor.

I never really thought about it before.

But my nightstand holds the things that help me connect with myself when I enter the day and when I leave it.

A couple of books.

Pads of paper.

Pens.

My iPad.

A few other small things.

Nothing particularly extraordinary, but definitely stabilizing.

There is something about knowing those things are there. Its a little landing pad.

A physical reminder that I have created a space where I can pause - this, for me, is what routine really is.

Not rigidity.

Relationship.

A relationship with ourselves.

A familiar pathway back home.

Reverse journaling has reminded me how powerful our thoughts can be.

Each morning, I like to begin with a smile.

Sometimes I feel it.

Sometimes I don’t, but I smile anyway.

I’m not pretending everything is wonderful. But I get to choose how I begin.

Most days, I ask for truth.

To be led through service.

To see things from the perspective of my higher self.

To recognize where my gifts might be most useful.

To share myself where I can benefit both myself and others.

Today, my reverse journal sounded something like this:

Today I pause before I speak.

I listen before I act.

I don’t need to feed every story that enters my mind.

I don’t need to participate in jealousy, envy, scarcity, or the belief that there isn’t enough.

I don’t need to spend energy on relationships that no longer serve me.

I don’t need to try to control what isn’t mine to control.

Today, I move toward peace.

It’s not a task.

It’s not another thing I have to accomplish.

It is a way of being.

I want to move through the day without rushing.

Without unnecessary internal dialogue.

Without stealing precious moments from myself by worrying about things I cannot change.

I want to read.

Listen to music.

Write.

Drink water.

Nourish my body.

Feel the sunshine.

Laugh if something makes me laugh.

I ask to return to a comfortable place at the end of the day.

No wasted energy.

But what does “no wasted energy” really mean?

It doesn’t mean doing nothing.

It doesn’t mean avoiding difficult conversations.

It doesn’t mean becoming passive.

It means becoming more conscious about where I am placing my attention.

Attention is energy and whatever we repeatedly feed tends to grow.

Feed fear, and fear gets louder.

Feed comparison, and comparison becomes the lens.

Feed scarcity, and suddenly there is never enough.

Feed gratitude, and we begin noticing what is already here.

Feed presence, and the moment becomes enough.

Feed peace, and we become more familiar with peace.

This is not about controlling reality with our thoughts.

Life will continue to surprise us.

People will make choices we don’t understand.

Plans will change.

Renovations will take longer than expected.

Schedules will get thrown off.

Things will break.

Things will begin again.

That’s life.

The practice is not controlling what happens.

The practice is becoming more intentional about how we meet what happens.

This is what reverse journaling really is.

It’s not predicting tomorrow.

It’s not demanding that the universe give us exactly what we wrote down.

It’s creating an internal direction.

A place to return to.

A little something in the hopper.

Before the world starts making requests of us, we get to ask ourselves:

How do I want to be today?

The answer doesn’t need to be complicated.

Today I want to be present.

Today I want to listen.

Today I want to move with peace.

Today I want to waste less energy.

Today I want to appreciate what is already here.

Today I want to allow a little more space for life to surprise me.

Because when we are truly present, we find ourselves in what we call a flow state.

Flow state arrives when we are ready for it, not another thing to chase. It arrives when we stop fighting the moment we’re already in.

When the mind settles.

When the body softens.

When we stop trying to be somewhere else.

When we become available to what is actually happening.

There is nothing grandiose about that.

It’s just presence.

And honestly…

How cool is that?

— The Nature Within

It all starts with breath.