It’s OK to Start a New Journal
Give yourself permission to write the 2025 of your dreams
Two nights ago, my daughter wanted to draw intentions together. I wanted to write, and I wanted to be alone, together.
She turned on the bright lights, got out the colored pencils, settled for the squirrel zentangle she had already begun, because I refused to print more.
On Solstice, we had a family meeting by candlelight. We wrote down our life goals together & then we individually drew our intentions. Maybe I was ‘intentioned’ out.
I drew my circle, but the medium felt off. Reflection through words—not pictures—pooled.
So there I was—not sitting again—searching everywhere for a new journal. I had courageously given myself permission to begin again. To not to finish my red journal, with its start undated, the first date written being an April Monday in 2023.
The inner voice declared: You don’t have to finish every little inch.
Maybe you’ve had enough of this chapter and you just want to start afresh already.
If this is you, too, it is totally fine to start anew.
I don’t really need to save the cents of the pages. The financial idea of waste and the undulant guilt it carries is subtle and real. Yet as I accept it and allow it to be—the baggage of my ancestors unravels.
We can honor, conserve, and appreciate our resources while also honoring ourselves and the energetics of our needs. For our desires are divinely placed. What is truly good for me is good for all.
I was done with the red journal. But, alas, it wasn’t done with me.
I had no replacement. I brought my old red journal to the table, saying that I really wanted to start from the beginning.
Daisy expectantly put her hand out to receive the journal, saying let me see it. Violating every law of diary privacy, she commenced thumbing through it, as I sat down turning back to what art wanted to flow through. She announced that there are still 12 pages left.
So here I am, adjacent to another undated page that says:
What’s meant for you is on its way. So close it’s already here. With eyes to see the delight, in gratitude, you get more to be grateful for. Gratitude begets gratitude. Delight begets delight. Love begets love. Appreciate. Celebrate the here and now. Grow from there. 1. Gratefuls 2. Wonder 3. Embody 4. Surround yourself by beauty. Drink out of a mug you love. It’s ok to get rid of things that don’t bring you joy or that you have enough of.
The page is undated as are several before it. I don’t know when I started doing that. If you’d have asked me if I’d ever not date my journal entries, I’d probably say no way. But my journal says otherwise.
I have not kept a daily journal for years now, though I feel that my fundamental structure of life is about to change. (Do you feel it too?)
The last date says November 6, and before that are some notes from a Matt Kahn event in Sedona in October. Adjacent in my memory of Sedona, AZ, is an appreciation of myself, embarking on singing and harmonium lessons with Ananda Das, and bringing Daisy to an in-person class.
This was the last week of our 4th or 5th cross-country road trip on our way moving back to California from Georgia—after seeing my dad, stepmom, brother and his family in Wisconsin, seeing friends and receiving the most glorious counseling, sharing laughter and dreams, filling my cup, and seeing this beautiful country (yet again).
Serkan graciously referred to it as my trip, and it really was exactly all I could have asked for. (Thank you, my love.) Gorgeous and difficult. Shadow and light. Decisions made, boundaries set, discomfort felt, acceptance continually being practiced.
It’s the acceptance that’s so key. As I move forward into 2025, I know that full body and full life re-integration is in store.
Motherhood has been my biggest teacher and highest priority. And yet I’ve compartmentalized it from my business—which is really just how my soul shares its gifts with the world—through teaching meditation, guiding yogic journeys, Vedic astrology, and daily practice and rhythm.
A dear friend reflected back to me (on our big trip): For many, motherhood is a choice. But not for you. It’s how God has manifested through you. It’s how you embody your devotion and share your gifts. It’s integral to who you are. It’s beyond you or your children.
I don’t know how it all unfolds from here. It’s been an achingly beautiful, hard year. It’s required my softening, deep trust, wise surrender even when resisted, vigilance in guarding the gateway of my mind and energy, and letting go into acceptance of what is.
This morning as I sat down to meditate, a pen and paper—goal-filled on both sides—lay in my seat. I was meant to read this list of life goals from my budding 13 year old, brimming with lessons, dreams, passion, excitement, and optimism.
If there is the slow creeping in of fear, it is also greeted with such enthusiastic idealism, it makes my heart sigh and my liver smile. Some of the fear is familiar, part of being an intuitive, sensitive being.
Some of the fear is new with a sternness and drive to it—and then the deepest innocence—like the glittery quaking of an aspen leaf, the luminescence of which, I am honored to witness.
Truly, what I see it in my children, I can then heal in myself, and, so, clear and purify the line. It is humbling, quiet work. It’s work that doesn’t always find immediate results or “proof.”
It’s important work. Stay with it. Remember, how you show up matters. Your conversations matter. Your inner work matters. Your children are watching, interpreting, and making meaning.
In 2025, your personal leadership is in a moment of blossoming—not just in the external realm, but on the internal. May this be a year of resilience, appreciation, wonder, growth, and blessings.
I’m so grateful that you’re here and that we get to build this life together.
Love,
Heather
P.S. I found the new journal. It just wanted one more entry, dated December 29 and re-imagined December 31.