The Notebook Habit

Lately, I’ve begun carrying a small notebook and a pencil with me. There’s something grounding about it, something a phone can never quite match. When I write on paper, I’m not pulled into the endless swirl of apps and alerts. The page asks nothing of me except presence. A notebook never runs out of battery, never demands an update. Its pages open to wherever my thoughts wish to wander—forward, backward, or somewhere in between.

Of course, after years of professional work and decades of typing on keyboards, my handwriting has become clumsy, almost unrecognizable. But even in its unevenness, I find a quiet lesson. Writing by hand asks me to slow down, to let each word take shape patiently. In the act of making my handwriting legible, I notice myself living more gently, more attentively, one imperfect line at a time.

For notes I know I’ll discard in a few days, I simply use loose sheets of paper. When they’ve served their purpose, they find a second life kindling my winter fire. At times I’ve thought about buying a small notepad with tearable sheets, but then I pause, why add another purchase when my notebook is still here with me, its pages more than half empty, waiting to be filled?

Even the notes in my notebook lose their significance after a while. A to-do list that has already been completed, or a set of quick instructions I scribbled for myself while walking through the orchard—once their purpose is served, they no longer carry much meaning. For now, I simply strike them out. But I often wonder if, with time, my notebook will hold more crossed-out pages than notes I truly need to keep.

I use my notebook for many things—scribbling to-do lists, jotting down thoughts and plans for the orchard or homestay, or noting topics to discuss with family and friends. At times, it holds nothing more than a passing thought, a few lines of poetry, or fragments of ideas that might later grow into a blog post.

My simple advice to anyone wishing to live more mindfully: carry a small paper notebook and a pencil. I lean toward a pencil since it never leaks with the pressure changes as I move between the hills and the valleys. But a pen works just as well. Perhaps even a fancy fountain pen, one you come to treasure and turns writing into a small ritual.

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