Prompt 318. A Confession

The Five Lists & a New Year's Journaling Challenge

Hi friend,

I have a confession to make: I have barely journaled since I learned my leukemia was back this summer and that I was restarting chemo. The reason is twofold, I think. One is the sense of overwhelm at the contrasts of the past year—2024 held some of the wildest, most beautiful moments of my life that I know will live on as core memories, as well as some major milestones. But it’s also one of the hardest years I’ve ever had, where I’ve felt my absolute lowest and most defeated. 

This is especially true here at the end of the year, as the cumulative effects of chemotherapy have set in and left me feeling so depleted. That’s the other reason I haven’t journaled—I feel worse as the day goes on, so I wake up with my to-do list top of mind, and I take off like a racehorse, trying to knock out as much as possible. Inevitably, by the time I tend to all my responsibilities, I have no energy left for journaling.

Of course, the irony is that this is exactly the moment I should be prioritizing my journal. It’s in moments just like these when this anchoring, buoying practice has been most helpful, allowing me to parse the overwhelm and that blur of contrasts. To remember I have everything I need. To be reminded of the many, many small and big joys. To remind myself to dream as big as I can dare.

I have an allergy to the whole “new year, new you” way of thinking—of making pie-in-the-sky resolutions that are nearly impossible to see through. But I have always loved this time of year as an opportunity for a reset, as the holiday craze starts to wind down, before we jump back into the flow of things. To me, it feels like a sacred pause, where I have a chance to reflect, to take stock, to regroup, to course correct. This year, perhaps more than any before, it feels so necessary.

Perhaps you too have had a hard year. Perhaps you have allowed your responsibilities to consume you at the cost of your well-being. Perhaps you too have been muscling through your days and have lost that ability to follow that thread of intuition, to be in dialogue with the self. If that’s the case, then join me in recommitting to this life-giving, light-giving practice—not for 100 days, not even for a month, but for just a week—with our New Year’s Journaling Challenge.

This is our fifth time kicking off the new year with a journaling challenge, always around a particular theme. For example, in 2022, we curated a week of evergreen prompts for staying grounded and energized, and last year, we used poems by Rumi to help us learn to hold the cruel and beautiful things in life in the same palm.

This year, we’re contemplating and reveling in the idea of magic. It’s based on a theme I’ve found myself returning to in this newsletter: the need to let go of the fear of the unknown and instead to open ourselves up to the mysteries and the magic of the unknown. That’s my constant work—and in this time when our world feels more uncertain than ever before, I’d venture to say that it’s all of our work.

Beginning January 1, paid subscribers will receive each day a short reflection on the theme of magic and a journaling prompt to accompany it. If you haven’t already, you can subscribe now to join us!

With all that said, I’ll move on to today’s prompt—which is another annual ritual. It’s a prompt I have shared for the last few years called “The Five Lists,” where rather than making resolutions, we take stock of the past, ground ourselves in the present, and set things in motion for the year to come. The day after Christmas, I got a note from a community member named Emma, who said, “I love your five lists, and hold whatever it is I write close to my heart during the course of the year. Truly guiding lights, a beautiful balance of the inner and outer, self and other, past, present and future. Rich indeed.” That’s exactly what this prompt is for me—and I hope it’s the same for you.

Sending love and wishes for a very happy new year,

Suleika

P.S. If you’ve done “The Five Lists” before, it’s really powerful go back and take a peek and see the distance you’ve traversed. A few years ago, a community member named Michelle reviewed her list and shared this lovely note about her fifth list—the wild ideas and harebrained schemes: “Most wild ideas were done. On to more that have never been.”

P.P.S. If you have questions about the New Year’s Journaling Challenge, you can find answers to some frequent ones here!

Frederick Edwin Church, Landscape with Sunset (1866)

Prompt 318. The Five Lists by Suleika Jaouad

At the threshold of a new year, I often find myself ruminating about the things I didn’t get done, what I wish I had accomplished, where I need to improve. It’s the voice of my inner critic, a voice I know all too well. To drown out her chatter, I crack the spine of a new journal and reframe the concept of New Year’s resolutions by writing my way through a five-part series of lists.

I start with an inventory of things that I’m proud of, big or small, to savor and celebrate all that unfolded in the last year.

I move on to a second list—of what I’m yearning for. Often in the process, I uncover desires not yet known.

The third list is a tough one but a cathartic one. I write down all the things that are causing me anxiety, from the most mundane inconveniences to looming existential dreads.

My fourth list is a toolkit of sorts. I reflect on all the hard things I’ve gotten through and jot down

the resources, skills, and practices that saw me through and that I can return to and rely on in the new year.

My fifth and final list is my favorite: my wild ideas list. I set a timer for five minutes, and in a completely unedited stream of consciousness, I jot down every wild scheme, every grand plan, every creative idea that comes to mind, no matter how harebrained or unrealistic.

These lists are celebratory, energizing, exorcising, reassuring, and motivating. They quell my inner critic, reminding me that I’ve accomplished so much, that I know what I want, that I can face it all, that I have everything I need, and that I can dream as big as I dare.

Your prompt for the week:

In place of resolutions, journal your way into the New Year with five lists.

1. What in the last year are you proud of?

2. What did this year leave you yearning for?

3. What’s causing you anxiety?

4. What resources, skills, and practices can you rely on in the coming year?

5. What are your wildest, most harebrained ideas and dreams?

On January 1, we’ll be kicking off a seven-day New Year’s Journaling Challenge for paid subscribers—contemplating and reveling in the idea of magic. For me, journaling is a portal to my intuition, my imagination, and my creativity. Whether you’re a longtime journaler or curious about how or where to even begin, we’d love for you to join us!

For more paid subscriber benefits, see—

• On Cherishing, a video replay of my Studio Visit with the multi-hyphenate wonder Lena Dunham, where we talked on asking for what we need, the spiritual dividends of pain, and New Year’s rituals

• Read Me, See Me, Like Me, the very first installment of my advice column Dear Susu, where I answer a question from a reader who feels the urge to write but isn’t sure how to share her words with the world

• My Year of Love, a photo essay of what I thought was the worst year of my life, but ended up being so much more