The 10-Minute Journaling Ritual That Changes Your Morning
Your morning, upgraded: a 10-minute journaling ritual and a simple sound practice to shift your state.
As January unfolds and we settle into this new year, I’ve been thinking about the small rituals that anchor us. Not the sweeping resolutions that fade by February, but the quiet practices that truly change how we move through our days.
This morning, as I sat at my vintage typewriter with coffee in hand, I was reminded that transformation doesn’t always require grand gestures. Sometimes it’s found in ten minutes of honesty with ourselves, or in the simple act of choosing a more beautiful route to work.
Today I’m sharing a practice that’s become essential to my own wellbeing—and exploring how something as simple as sound can shift your entire state.
👇 In today’s email:
This week’s inspiration: The 10-Minute Journaling Ritual That Changes Your Morning
Latest blog post: Sound as Medicine: A Simple Way to Shift Your State
What I’m listening to: All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
The 10-Minute Journaling Ritual That Changes Your Morning
As we begin the new year, I’ve been thinking about daily rituals that increase quality of life. Small things like being in nature an hour a day, meditating, and leaving ten minutes early for work to take the most scenic route—in my case, past cow pastures, hay the color of wet mustard, and several beaches—arriving unharried.
One of the most beautiful things I do is write on my late 1960s robin’s egg blue Smith Corona typewriter.
This ten minutes of freeform, stream-of-consciousness writing—unburdening, occasionally deciphering the night’s dreams—brings me into the day with freshness and clarity. There’s something about the physical act of typing on those keys, hearing each letter click into place, that grounds me in a way digital journaling never has.
It’s not about crafting perfect prose or profound insights. Some mornings it’s just processing yesterday’s frustrations. Other mornings it’s making sense of a strange dream, or noticing what I’m grateful for, or simply emptying my mind onto paper so I can start fresh.
Why This Works
When we write by hand (or in my case, on a typewriter), we engage different parts of our brain than when we type on a computer or phone. The slower pace allows our thoughts to unfold more organically. There’s no backspace temptation, no editing instinct—just forward momentum.
From a Chinese medicine perspective, morning is when our yang energy naturally rises. This practice helps channel that energy intentionally, setting the tone for how we’ll show up in the world that day.
How to Start Your Own Practice
You don’t need a vintage typewriter (though I highly recommend one if you’re drawn to it). A simple notebook works beautifully. Here’s what I suggest:
Set aside just ten minutes—before checking your phone, before the day’s demands take over.
Write whatever comes. Don’t edit, don’t judge, don’t worry about making sense. This isn’t for anyone else to read.
Notice the physical sensations: your hand moving across the page, your breath, the weight of your body in the chair.
Let yourself be surprised by what emerges. Sometimes our wisest insights arrive when we’re not trying to be wise.
As I’m writing this, visiting with my husband as he eats his morning croissant, it’s wonderful to think about the habits—big and small—that can steady us. These quiet rituals become the foundation from which everything else unfolds.
Sound as Medicine: A Simple Way to Shift Your State
Sound is everything—and it can recalibrate our wellbeing in the most unexpected ways.
In recent years, I’ve deepened the soundscape of my studio with chimes, tuning forks placed on the body, and singing bowls. But one of my favorite discoveries has been learning to customize sound for each patient’s unique needs.
I used to practice next to a salon, where giggles and loud exclamations sometimes filtered through the walls. I started offering headphones to block out the noise—but then discovered something better: an app called Endel that lets me DJ the entire acupuncture experience.
For patients with insomnia, dry cough, dry skin, or night sweats, I use light, expansive sounds—the gentle pitter-pat of rain. For those fluttering with anxiety and heart palpitations, I choose deep bass tones and grounding melodies that bring them back into balance.
While I work with acupuncture needles, aromatherapy, and crystals, sound has become another tool to meet each person exactly where they are.
In this blog post, I’m sharing how you can use sound therapeutically in your own life—to calm your nervous system, improve sleep, or simply shift your state when you need it most.
All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
This week I listened to All the Light We Cannot See for the third time—yes, the third. Although I’ve read it twice before, I decided to dive back in pursuit of beautiful language.
This is a story about greed, desperation, beauty, hope, and two teenagers in 1940s Europe. One is a blind girl with innate curiosity about the natural world, growing up in Paris. The other is a German orphan boy with engineering prowess who becomes a Nazi youth.
What struck me this time is how different the experience of rereading can be. We are different each time we return to a story. Our world is different too.
The first time I read this book, fascism felt like something relegated to history. Not the global concern it is today. That shift in context changes everything about how the story lands.
Thematically, this book explores how culture and circumstances shape us—especially the most innocent among us. It’s a reminder that the forces around us are powerful, but so is our capacity to hold onto our humanity in the face of them.
If you haven’t read it, or if you read it years ago, I recommend revisiting it now. Notice what speaks to you differently this time.
I’m cheering for you,
Dr. Catherine
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