How To Undo Your Perpetual Doing
Or how to sedate the monkey in your mind with ink.
Imagine a morning where the only thing louder than your alarm is your racing mind. Well, that’s me most mornings. As a full-blown ADHDer, my brain is always in high gear, and my brakes are usually frustratingly hard to push. I don’t even think that I have a parking brake!
I know many, many women also wake up that way because of incessant juggling of deadlines, family and friend group texts, news feeds that shout today’s new unjust insanity, and a coffee cup that’s gone cold before the first sip.
The world is frickin’ noisy, and achieving a moment of peace is as challenging as finding matching socks and Tupperware lids.
Yet, it’s in those elusive quiet moments that we sincerely and often desperately need. That’s where we can catch a glimpse of something precious: our own calm self.
In a flash of stillness, you realize that beneath the mental lists and grating replayed conversations, there’s a you that’s yearning for care and attention.
Humorist Erma Bombeck once quipped that she took refuge in the bathroom to find silence; Jerry Seinfeld jokes that people would rather hear anything than the sound of their own thoughts. But as Carl Jung wisely noted, “Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes”.
In other words, finding quiet — turning inward — is one of the keys to waking up from life’s autopilot and truly finding calm, understanding, and learning to love ourselves.
This article explores how getting quiet through meditation and journaling can lead to both wit and wisdom, blending scientific research with practical techniques that any woman can use to cultivate a bit of sacred quiet in your daily routine.
So, refill that coffee (or herbal tea), find a comfy spot, and let’s dive into the silence between the notes. You might be surprised by the music you hear there!
The Wisdom of Finding Quiet
Why quietness? In a world of 24/7 chatter, quiet is a luxury item (right up there with spa weekends and self-cleaning kitchens). But thinkers from ancient sages to modern experts insist that silence is more than empty space—it’s a wellspring of creativity, healing, and self-discovery.
Mindfulness pioneer Jon Kabat-Zinn has observed that we live in a state of perpetual doing, often forgetting the being, rushing from task to task. He suggests that even brief “moments of mindfulness are moments of peace and stillness, even in the midst of activity”. Think of it as an oasis of quiet that lets you reset your frazzled nerves and, as he says, “remember who you are” beyond the roles and to-do lists. This isn’t just airy philosophy or woo-woo stuff—mindfulness meditation and journaling to achieve inner quiet have stuck around for centuries because they work.
Carl Jung, the great psychologist of the inner world, placed introspection at the heart of growth. When he said looking inside leads to awakening, he was highlighting that self-awareness blossoms in stillness.
If you constantly look outward for validation or distraction, you might be “dreaming” through life, but if you turn inward, you wake up to your authentic self.
Sure, facing one’s own mind can be a bit like opening a closet and having old memories and odd worries cascade out on top of your head (who knew you stored the 1980s in there?). Yet, sitting quietly with ourselves—even when it’s uncomfortable—is how we begin to understand, process, and let go of our deeper needs, fears, and desires.
But the good news is, it’s also where a lot of the funny stuff in life hides. (Ever had your brain randomly remind you of that embarrassing thing you did in seventh grade? Cue the internal monologue: “Really, brain? Now? I’m trying to be enlightened here!”) But that’s part of the process: in silence, we confront everything from the profound to the absurd within us. And sometimes, seeing the absurdity is its own kind of enlightenment!
Meditation: The Science of Quieting the Mind
Meditation is the art of getting quiet on purpose. You don’t need incense or a mountaintop. At its core, meditation means sitting with yourself quietly and watching what happens behind your eyelids. And remarkably, things do happen—both in our subjective experience and in our brains.
First, the subjective: many meditators report feeling calmer, more centred, and more aware of their thoughts without being ruled by them. As one teacher quipped, “Thoughts are like obnoxious party guests—you can’t stop them from showing up, but you don’t have to hand them the DJ controls.”
Now, the science. Dr. Sara Lazar, a neuroscientist at Harvard Medical School, made headlines with research showing meditation can literally change the structure of the brain. In one study, ordinary people took an eight-week mindfulness course. MRI scans showed growth in brain regions associated with learning, memory, self-awareness, and compassion. Even more striking, the amygdala—the brain’s fear and stress trigger—actually shrank in those who reported feeling less stressed. By sitting each day quietly, participants strengthened circuits for calm while dialling down those for angst. How awesome is that?!
Dr. Helen Lavretsky’s research offers another compelling example. In a UCLA study, she taught Kirtan Kriya, a simple 12-minute daily meditation involving chanting, to stressed-out family caregivers (a role about as relaxing as juggling chainsaws). After eight weeks, blood tests revealed something astonishing: activity in 68 genes related to stress and inflammation had shifted, resulting in lower inflammatory markers (Black et al., 2013). Essentially, quietness spoke to their genes, telling them to simmer down!
Kabat-Zinn often reminds us that you can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf; meditation is that surfing lesson for the mind’s choppy waters. Over time, it teaches you to meet life’s ups and downs with a bit more equanimity—a fancy word for “I can handle this without flipping out.” You might notice the surge of stress, but not be swept away by it. You might even find a pause to chuckle at the absurdity of some situations. In short, meditation helps you develop a quiet center amid the noise.
Journaling: Pen Meets Soul in Quiet Reflection
Here’s a positively potent duo for you: both meditation and journaling are about listening within, and journaling has the added benefit of allowing you to have a conversation with yourself in ink.
When it comes to journaling, this is a form of quietness that comes with a pen in hand (or fingers on keyboard) and a blank, compassionate, non-judgemental page beckoning you.
Yes, some of you might flash back to your teenage diary with an easy-to-break lock days (" Dear Diary, I think Harold likes me…ugh.”). But adult journaling is a whole different kettle of Gefilte fish—one that can be as profound or as playful as you need. In fact, journaling can be a mindfulness practice in its own right. I like to call it Inkatation. When you sit down to write out your thoughts and feelings, you’re carving out a quiet mental space to observe what’s percolating within your inner coffee pot. The page doesn’t judge or interrupt; it listens. And in that listening, you almost always hear yourself more clearly.
Psychologists and researchers have long been fascinated by the effects of journaling on well-being.
The seminal work of Dr. James Pennebaker in the 1980s showed that expressive writing (writing about emotional experiences) can strengthen immune function and reduce doctor visits – apparently spilling your guts to a journal can keep you out of the gut doctor!
Building on that, recent studies have zeroed in on specific journaling techniques. One 2018 randomized controlled trial led by Dr. Joshua Smyth and colleagues tested something called “Positive Affect Journaling”. Participants with various medical conditions and elevated anxiety were asked to journal online for 15 minutes, three times a week, focusing on positive experiences or reflections, for 12 weeks. The results? Compared to a control group, the journaling participants experienced significant drops in mental distress, anxiety, and depression and boosts in overall well-being. After just one month, they reported less anxiety and fewer depressive symptoms, and after two months, they showed greater resilience. The authors concluded that this simple journaling practice was an effective, scalable way to help patients feel better. It’s basically therapy in pyjamas, seriously helping you ensure everything is tickety-boo!
What makes journaling so therapeutic? For one, it gives your racing mind a safe pit-stop. When worries or emotions spiral out of control, writing them down can bring structure and clarity to an otherwise chaotic swirl. It’s like dumping the junk drawer of your mind onto the floor so you can finally see what’s in there (and lo and behold, sometimes there’s a treasure hidden under all the rubber bands and old receipts of worries).
Journaling helps people process their experiences, gain insight, and even find new perspectives on problems. In the 2018 study above, focusing on positive aspects was key—a bit like gratitude journaling. This doesn’t mean ignoring the negative (toxic positivity isn’t the goal), but it encourages us to balance our natural negativity bias by consciously noting what’s good. Over time, that can shift our mental habits toward resilience.
Neuroscience also offers some fascinating clues. Andrew Newberg, a neuroscientist known for studying the brain in relation to spiritual practices, and Mark Robert Waldman, a communication expert, have highlighted how language itself can shape our brain chemistry. In their book Words Can Change Your Brain, Newberg and Waldman explain that focusing on positive words can influence brain function and reduce stress.
In other words, when you write or dwell on positive words (like “love,” “peace,” “gratitude”), you may actually be training your brain toward a healthier outlook. Over time, a practice of positive focus can change how you view yourself and others, essentially retraining your neural circuits for optimism. Journaling is a perfect container for this kind of slow, steady concentration on thoughts and words.
Let’s be clear: journaling doesn’t have to be all sunshine and rainbows to be helpful. Sometimes you need to write out raw anger or sorrow to release it. That, in itself, can be very freeing and calming.
Over time, patterns emerge in your writing—maybe you discover that a small annoyance today echoes a bigger fear underneath, or that you keep coming back to a certain desire you’ve been ignoring. These insights are golden; they’re the “you” that whispers in quiet moments, finally claiming your voice.
The freedom of that blank page naturally invites quiet contemplation. It can convert the intangible, messy inner stuff into tangible, workable self-awareness. You can literally read your mind and begin to guide it. The point is, journaling helps translate the noise in our heads into a narrative, one we can learn from and even laugh at. It’s like being both the therapist and the client, and sometimes the sitcom writer, of your own life.
Where Meditation and Journaling Intersect
On the surface, meditation and journaling seem like very different activities—one is done with eyes closed, in stillness, the other with a pen moving across paper. But they share a powerful common purpose: self-awareness through quiet reflection.
Picture this intersection in practice: You start with meditation, even just 5 or 10 minutes in the morning. During that meditation, a few interesting thoughts or feelings drift through—maybe a solution to a problem pops up out of nowhere, or you become aware of an emotion (like “wow, I’m actually really nervous about that meeting today”). In the past, such subtle signals might have been drowned out by the day’s noise. But because you got quiet, you noticed them. Now you open your journal and write about what came up. Perhaps you jot down the problem and the solution that appeared. Or you explore the nervous feeling. As you write, you may gain additional clarity. You’ve used journaling to integrate the fruits of meditation into conscious understanding.
Conversely, journaling before meditation can be just as powerful. Suppose your head is buzzing with thoughts (the infamous 100-open-browser-tabs feeling). Trying to meditate in that state can be like herding cats. If you spend 5 minutes journaling first—brain-dumping all those thoughts onto paper—you clear some of the mental static. Write out the to-do list, the worries, the random song lyric stuck in your head. Now, with those noted, your mind might feel heard enough to settle. When you then slip into meditation, it’s noticeably calmer.
At a deeper level, both practices encourage something increasingly rare today: listening to oneself. We spend all day reacting—to texts, to news, to others’ needs—and very little time truly listening inward.
From a psychological perspective, the combo can accelerate emotional healing. Meditation might reveal a buried emotion—say, during a quiet sit, you suddenly feel sadness about an event you hadn’t fully processed. Later, journal about it. In writing, you allow that emotion to move through, to tell its story. The meditation created a safe space for the feeling to emerge; the journaling gave it voice and resolution. Over time, this means you’re less likely to be blindsided by bottled-up feelings. You are doing the inner work regularly, in small digestible doses, rather than waiting for a crisis.
Cultivating Quiet: Techniques for Beginners and Beyond
Ready to get quiet? Below are beginner and more advanced practices. “Advanced” doesn’t mean “better”—just different flavours for different stages. Experiment playfully and find what resonates. And remember: consistency beats duration, attitude beats perfection, and humour always helps.
Getting Started: Quiet Practices for Beginners
If you’re new to meditation or journaling, welcome! This isn’t a boot camp; think of it as a gentle orientation. Try one or two of the ideas below and give yourself permission to be imperfect.
Two-Minute Mindfulness: Start small. Sit comfortably, set a timer for 2 minutes, and focus on your breath. When your mind wanders (it will), gently say “thinking” and return to breathing. Short, frequent sessions beat occasional marathons.
Guided Meditation Apps: If silence feels intimidating, let someone guide you. Apps offer 5–10-minute meditations—body scans and loving-kindness practices—that serve as training wheels as you learn.
Stream-of-Consciousness Writing: Try a simple brain dump to start your day or to clear your mind before meditation. Set a timer for 5-10 minutes and write whatever comes to mind—no editing, no filtering, no judgment. Don’t worry about grammar, spelling, or making sense. The goal isn’t artistry or insight; it’s simply to empty the mental clutter onto the page. You might write “I don’t know what to write” ten times in a row, and that’s fine. This practice creates mental space and often, unexpectedly, reveals what you’re actually thinking or feeling beneath the noise.
Evening Reflections: Each night, spend 10 minutes journaling about your day. List 3 things you’re grateful for (to end on a positive note) and 1 thing that was challenging (to acknowledge and release it). This practice helps create a quiet ritual around bedtime, clearing your mind for rest. Research suggests that gratitude journaling can improve sleep and mood.
Breath and Write (Micro-Practice): Throughout the day, find small windows for mindfulness and micro-journaling. For instance, when you're in your car before heading into work (or after work, before stepping into the house), take 5 deep breaths. Inhale slowly through the nose, exhale through the mouth like a sigh. Let those breaths draw a line between the previous activity and the next. If you have an extra minute, jot down a quick note in a pocket journal or a notes app: “Current mood: ____. I am feeling ____ right now.” This tiny check-in is both a moment of quiet and a way to build self-awareness.
Nature Breaks: If possible, step outside for a brief mindfulness-in-nature break. Even 5 minutes on a park bench or under a tree can be meditative. Leave the phone behind or set it to silent. Look around and notice details: the pattern of clouds, the rustle of leaves, the chirp of a bird (or if you’re urban, the pattern of shadows on buildings, the play of light on a car). Take a few breaths and just be present. This is meditation in motion. When you return, consider writing a line or two in your journal about what you noticed. It could be as simple as, “Sat under an oak tree, felt wind on my face, thoughts slowed down.”
Advanced Techniques: Deepening the Quiet Practice
For those with some experience or a craving for more, these techniques invite deeper exploration.
Extended Meditation Sessions: Gradually lengthen your sit from 10 to 20 minutes or try a 30-minute “mini-retreat” on a weekend. Longer sits can bring deeper calm—and sometimes deeper emotions. Stay with it, using your breath as an anchor.
Mantra Meditation: Repeat a word or phrase silently (like “peace” or “let go”) to focus the mind. When thoughts intrude, return to the mantra. Over time, it leads you into quieter states.
Loving-Kindness & Compassion Writing: Practice loving-kindness meditation (repeating “May I be happy, may I be healthy” to yourself, then to others), then journal about how it felt. Research shows this increases empathy and positive emotions (Weng et al., 2013).
Shadow Journaling (Active Imagination): From Carl Jung: write a dialogue with a part of yourself. Meditate quietly on a question, then let a conversation unfold on paper. Label it like a script: Me: ___ , Inner Voice: ___ . Don’t overthink—let the words flow.
Themed Journaling Retreats: Carve out a half-day. Choose a theme (e.g., “Life Vision”). Meditate for 15 minutes, journal for 30, take a tea break, meditate again, journal again. Alternating silence and writing prevents burnout and deepens insight.
Silent Walking and Drawing Journals: Try walking meditation (slow, mindful steps) for 10-15 minutes, then sit and draw or doodle before writing. This engages different parts of the brain and can unlock insights that words alone might miss.
Whether you’re beginning or refining a practice, remember: the goal isn’t perfection. The goal is quietness and a kinder, more aware relationship with yourself. Some days you’ll feel transcendent; some days you’ll write “I’m tired and have nothing to say.” It’s all fine. Benefits accrue over time, often in ways you don’t notice until one day you react differently to something that used to set you off.
Conclusion: Embracing the Quiet Revolution
In a world that worships doing, choosing quiet and reflection is a small act of rebellion. It says, “I value my being, too.” As we’ve seen, silence isn’t emptiness—it’s where the noise subsides, and we hear ourselves again. Science agrees: the brain reshapes, stress genes quiet, and creativity awakens.
For women juggling multiple roles, this isn’t indulgence. It’s radical self-care. Slowing down actually moves you forward with more clarity. And a little humour along the way—like laughing at your failed attempt to meditate for ten whole minutes—keeps you humble and human.
So, give yourself the gift of quiet. No fancy gear required. Just a few minutes a day—dawn, driveway, or bedside—to meet yourself. Over time, that meeting becomes a friendship. And that friendship becomes self-compassion.
Here’s to the journal scribblers and breath followers. Meditation isn’t about stopping thoughts; journaling isn’t about perfect prose. Both are about showing up for yourself. Now take that deep breath, sip your coffee, and smile. The world will still be there in a minute—but you’ll meet it a little more awake.
If you like more guidance, you can purchase my workbook: The Quiet Within (a companion to this article) for a small $5 donation that helps keep Holistic Journaling creating and motivating your ink. The Quiet Within | Holistic Journaling Ink
References
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Medical note: The information, prompts, and techniques herein are for informational and self-help purposes only. They are not a substitute for professional medical or mental health advice. If you’re struggling, please reach out to a qualified professional.