This 15-Minute Morning Ritual Changed My Life
Tags: Startup Life, Startup Lessons, Work Life Balance, Minfulness, Career Advice

This post originally appeared as a blog on Genevieve Rafla’s LinkedIn.

Executive coaching taught me one very clear thing: “You need to claim the events of your life to make yourself yours.” (Yes, that’s stolen from Anne-Wilson Schaef.)

It’s that typical motivational mumbo-jumbo…’You may not be in control of the situation, but you can control your reaction to it’ kind of advice. Smells like BS, right? Yep, I thought so too. That’s until I read Tim Ferriss’ Tools of Titans cover-to-cover, twice.

T L;DR: the majority of grossly successful people in this world have a morning routine that they consistently stick to. That’s it. That’s their secret sauce to success. Go figure.

So, I started a routine. It’s 15-minutes out of my day, everyday, that gives me the headspace to be a Titan. It’s called Morning Pages — a creative productivity technique coined by Julia Cameron.

Question: When was the last time you wrote something in-depth or meaningful down on a piece of paper by hand?

No, your family reunion email doesn’t count. Neither does your Facebook rant. Yep, that Slack essay you sent a colleague — nope, that doesn’t count either.

For the avoidance of doubt: Your morning pages will be crap if you type them up. You have to write them by hand.

Typing is like going 80 mph on the highway. “Oh no! Was that my exit?” you exclaim, glancing over your shoulder at the destination you’ve blown past.

When you write by hand, you’re going 60 mph. “Here comes my exit,” you say, far in advance of getting to it. “Score! There’s a gas station here too! Ha, that guy’s bumper sticker is great!” In other words, you notice yourself and your surroundings.

It takes longer to write by hand, and this slowness connects us to our emotional life.

So, what is it that you’re writing down? The idea behind morning pages is simple: wake up, write three letter-size, handwritten pages each morning.

You write in the morning because that’s when the veil of ego is said to be the thinnest. It’s almost as if your ego needs extra time to wake-up and start with all its demands for the day.

Your morning pages take advantage of this.

Write about whatever you want. Don’t think you have anything to say? Fine. Simply start writing “This is so dumb, I have no clue why Genevieve said I should do this. Here I am writing. Ugh, annoying Genevieve.”

Think stream of consciousness. Think “brain drain.”

There’s no wrong way to do morning pages. They’re the act of moving the hand across the page and writing down whatever comes to mind. You do not need to be a writer, this is not writing, this is a cognitive release.

It’ll be a boat load of negative, fragmented, self-pitying, repetitive, bland, angry, babyish BS.

All those whiny, petty thoughts you write down in the morning stands between you and your creativity, or better put, your productivity. Worrying about the job, the laundry, the guy who elbowed you on the metro, the weird comment your in-law made over the weekend — get it out, release.

This is the nonsense that muddies your subconscious and your day. This is what makes you procrastinate. This is what’s stopping you from being a Titan.

If you’re anything like me, here’s what morning pages will teach you:

Your mood doesn’t really matter. You’ll find you get some great work done on some really crummy days. Go figure.

You’ll quit the negative self-talk. When you find yourself being a little sh*t about everyone and everything repetitively each morning, you get bored of yourself and the judgement. You learn to channel your inner Elsa and “let it go.”

You’ll chill out. Practicing something once a day, as a routine that is dedicated time for you = mindfulness. Mindfulness = meditation. Meditation = good for you.

You’ll be more productive. When you write all of your thoughts out on paper, you’re able to look at it, and realize it’s not so bad. It grounds you.

I don’t write my morning pages at home. I get into the office early, pour a cup of coffee, and pull out my pen and paper, all before turning on my laptop.

I write three pages. It takes about 15 minutes.

I close each page with a wish of “happiness” on someone. It’s a mindfulness technique I learned, where projecting happiness unto others actually makes you happier. Today, I wished happiness on anyone who read this post. So hopefully you’re happy, and I’m happy for wishing you’re happy.