Three Years of Tuesdays and Fridays

Hi everyone,

Something a little astonishing is happening this week, and I wanted you to be the first to know.

On August 23, The Journey Home turns three.

Three years of Tuesday clearing prompts and practices.
Three years of Friday pauses.
157 consecutive weeks.
326 posts.

One quiet step after another.

Not one week missed — not through holidays, not through travel, not through the seasons when I had no idea what I was going to say until I sat down and said it.

Substack tells me that puts us in the top one percent of writers here for consistency.

I mention that not to boast. I mention it because consistency isn’t really a statistic. It’s a practice.

And it’s the same practice I’ve been inviting you into all along.

.

That showing up matters more than showing up brilliantly.

There were Fridays I wondered if I had anything worth saying. No photograph that sang, no thought worth the postage.

I wrote anyway.

And more often than not, those were the posts that landed — the ones where I stopped performing and just told you what was true that morning.

Small and steady beats big and occasional.

Every… single… time.

That’s the whole clearing method in one line, really. It’s why I keep writing about the Rule of One. It’s why a drawer gets cleared and a life gets lighter (and becomes more fun) by the same mechanism: one small thing, done again.

And again.

Three years of Tuesdays and Fridays is just that. One post. Then another.

.

Because the noise isn’t getting quieter out there.
Because a life doesn’t become spacious by accident.
Because someone has to keep saying slow down, look up, put the thing away, let yourself rest — and keep saying it after the enthusiasm wears off,

which is exactly when it starts to work.

You’ve been here for some or all of it. Some of you since the first week. That’s not nothing. That’s your consistency, meeting mine.

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Here’s how I’d like to mark this, if you’re willing.

Pick one word for your next year. One quality you’d like to cultivate — ease, courage, spaciousness, rest, enough. Whatever your gut hands you before your head gets in the way.

Then breathe it in each time one of these posts lands in your inbox. That’s it. That’s the whole practice.

A year from now, I’d like to ask you what happened.

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What’s your word? Leave it in the comments — just the word, or the story behind it if you’d like to share.

And if there’s a post from these three years that stayed with you, tell us which one. We’d love to know what traveled with you.

Ahhh ✨

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