A New Year's Journaling Challenge
Day One: Belief in Magic
Hi friend,
Happy New Year! I’m writing to you from the Caribbean, where my husband Jon and I took our family for the holidays. Months ago, we decided our Christmas gift would be to treat everyone to a special trip—though to be honest, scheduling something that far out filled me with anxiety. Healthwise I’m mired in uncertainty; I don’t know how I’m going to feel in an hour, much less a month, so it’s hard to block out those days on my calendar and book the tickets—to really commit. When you learn you have cancer for the third time, it’s easy to feel afraid of the future and all the unknowns, of everything that could go wrong. I’m afraid of having to cancel plans—not only the energy it takes to undo things, but also the emotional let-down.
But as I’ve written in the newsletter this year, I’ve been trying to shift from fearing the unknown and instead opening myself up to the magic of the unknown—so we went ahead and booked it.
Right up until we left, I wasn’t sure it would come to pass. I had a bout with norovirus and an infection followed by five days of chemo, and I wasn’t sure I could travel, and even if I could, if I’d able to enjoy myself. But daring to come here anyway has allowed for moments of pure magic—like on our first day here, when we went on an excursion to a desert island. That morning, we crossed the most beautiful turquoise waters I’ve ever seen and arrived two hours later at an island covered in low trees with a small sandy beach, unpopulated by humans, populated instead mainly by iguanas and little birds.
What came next was one of the most magical experiences of my life. As we pulled toward the beach, the guide asked me, “See that little bird?” I said yes, and he handed me a strawberry, then directed me to the bow. “Stand still,” he said, and I did—and for the next few minutes, I was motionless.
Then suddenly I felt the softest little brush, and I looked down to see that a tiny bird with dark grey wings, white throat, and yellow belly had alighted on my fingertips. It was a bananaquit. We all held our collective breath as it pecked at the strawberry, tweeted a bit, and cocked its head quizzically. Half a minute later, as quickly as it had appeared, the bird was gone.
Not long after, I began to feel unwell. While everyone swam and fished and ate, I curled up on one of the bench seats and tried to sleep. But that moment of magic was such a buoy. It reminded me that life is all flow all the time, and I find comfort in that flux. Last week was my lowest week of the whole year, and this week, I somehow found myself completely transported in every sense. Next week may be another low one, as I resume chemo. But I find comfort in knowing that there’s magic—even if it’s fleeting—at every turn.
When the ceiling caves in, it’s easy to feel hopeless. When we read the news and see so much suffering—all our manmade atrocities, our wars and our politics, our fears and our fury—it’s temping to descend into despair. But the truth is, we live in a beautiful world, full of joys big and small, full of moments of magic. And it’s important to turn our eyes to those moments of magic, and even to cultivate them—not as a head-in-the-sand moment, not as escapism, but as a necessary reminder that suffering isn’t all there is. There is goodness and kindness and joy and light. There is magic—the tiny miracle of a delicate wisp of a bird nibbling on a strawberry in your palm.
And that’s the theme of our fifth annual New Year’s Journaling Challenge: a celebration and cultivation of magic, the magic within us, the magic around us, the magic we have yet to uncover. The daily prompts are curated from the very best of the Hatch, our monthly creative gatherings for paid subscribers. Each day between now and January 7, I’ll send out an email with a video from the brilliant writers and Isolation Journals community stewards, Carmen Radley and Holly Huitt, sharing a short reading, reflection, and prompt. (We’ll also add a link to each daily post at the bottom of this email for easy reference.)
You’ll find the video for Day 1 below. It’s inspired by a poem called “Belief in Magic,” by Dean Young—a poem about wonder and mystery and the powerful magic of the human mind. May it help you combat the temptation to descend into darkness. May it remind you that our world is full of beauty—and magic too.
Sending love and warmest wishes for a magical new year,
Suleika
Day One: Belief in Magic
To access a transcript of this video, click here.
Today’s Poem—“Belief in Magic” by Dean Young
You can find the full poem at the Poetry Foundation.
Your prompt for today:
What are the people, places, and things that make you believe in magic? The miracles in plain sight? Using parataxis, allowing yourself to move associatively, let images, sounds, and ideas accumulate in a list. If you’d like, begin with the line, “Believe in magic—how could I not?”
How do I share my work and connect with others?
For many people, journaling is a private experience, and there’s no pressure to share what you write or otherwise create. But if you want to connect with others or share your work, you can do so in the comments section (just click “leave a comment” below), in our Facebook group, or on Instagram by tagging @theisolationjournals. As a reminder, we love seeing your work inspired by the Isolation Journals, but to preserve this as a community space, we request no promotion of outside projects.
If you’re looking for a little extra accountability from the community, you can join us in the Isolation Journals Chat—we’ll be posting threads throughout the week. As always, we’d love to hear from you!
Have another question? See our New Year’s Journaling Challenge FAQ or write to us at suleika@theisolationjournals.com.






Belief in magic. How could I not? Dreams with no answers to guide me. A lifting of darkness to hold me. A reversal of fortune to keep me. Another kind soul to help heal me. A bird on the hand to delight me. The stars in the sky to light me.
Belief in magic. How could I not? Snuggled up next to me is my four year old dog Penny. Penny was used as a breeding dog. Apparently spent the first four years of her life, in a whelping pen. When I first brought Penny home, she was very emaciated, dirty and scared of everything and everyone. Her transformation in the short time I have had her, has been magical. This past month has been very dark and painful for me, but if Penny's life can be transformed and her spirits lifted, perhaps the same can be true for me.