For most of the thirty-five years documented in my book, I wrote in my journal and moved on. The notebooks accumulated behind me. What I didn’t know was that my writing was doing work I couldn’t see. The work was slow and largely outside of my awareness.

The deepest version of my current practice is simpler than any exercise: write, return to what you wrote, and notice what you see. The return is where transformation stops being a concept and becomes a lived experience.

You will encounter yourself on the page, and the person you encounter will not be quite the person you thought you were. When you feel that gap, the writing practice is working.

Re-read what you wrote yesterday, last week, last month. The writing that sits unvisited is raw material waiting for a reader. You are that reader.