By: Joana Pasco, EMCC EIA, E-CYT 200 (Life Coach)
Growing up in Barcelona, I never knew a fall like this one. Back home, the seasons blend into each other. Here in Minnesota, they announce themselves.
Every October I slow down on my morning runs along the Mississippi, partly because the colors are almost too much to take in, and partly because I know they won't last. One windy week, one cold snap, and the branches are bare. Fall keeps reminding me that beauty doesn't wait for us to be ready. It's here, and then it changes. That's exactly why it's worth noticing.
So as November brings shorter days and longer nights, I want to invite you into a practice that works the same way: looking for the good while it's here, and writing it down so you can find it again.
Change Works Both Ways
Here's the other side of what fall teaches: if beautiful moments pass, hard ones do too. Bare branches aren't the end of the story. They're part of a cycle that keeps turning.
That's where gratitude and hope meet. Hope rarely comes from forcing ourselves to feel positive. It comes from remembering, with real evidence, that good things have shown up before and can show up again.
And to be clear: gratitude doesn't erase what's hard. You don't have to feel thankful for a loss or a heavy season. Gratitude can sit right beside those things. Both can be true.
The Good Doesn't Always Jump Out
I chose the word looking on purpose. Our minds are quick to notice what's wrong. That helps keep us safe, but it also means the good can slip right past us.
A gratitude journal gives us a reason to look. No long entries, no perfect list of everything you're grateful for. Just a few minutes a day of gently turning your attention toward what's also here.
Notice It, Name It, Keep It
Each entry has three small parts:
● Notice it. One specific moment from your day, described through your senses. Instead of "my friends," try the sound of my friend laughing on the phone this morning. Specific moments are easier to feel again later.
● Name it. What does this moment tell you about what matters to you? Maybe it's connection, rest, or time outdoors.
● Keep it. One word or image that holds the moment, like pressing a leaf between the pages of a book. If you read my September post, you might recognize this as an anchor: a small cue that brings you back to what matters.
A full entry might look like this:
Tuesday, November 10
Notice it: The smell of cinnamon when I walked into the kitchen after a long day.
Name it: Home. Comfort. Permission to slow down.
Keep it: "Cinnamon."
That's it. A few lines is plenty.
You don't need anything special to start. Any notebook works, or the notes app on your phone. Tie it to something already in your day, like your morning coffee or the few minutes before bed. Some days the moment will be tiny: warm coffee in your hands, a kind text, low afternoon light through a window. Small counts. And on the hard days, "I made it through today" counts too.
Over time, your journal becomes something that outlasts the season. On a gray day in January, reading back through it can remind you that good moments keep showing up, even when you can't see them right now.
Start With One Moment
One more thing you might try. Before your first entry, ask yourself: on a scale of 1 to 10, how hopeful do I feel right now? There's no right number. Just write it at the top of the page.
After a week, read back through your entries and ask again. Has the number moved, even a little? That shift is a reminder that hope isn't something you either have or don't. You can rebuild it, one noticed moment at a time.
If you want to start today, I invite you to write down one moment you noticed, before the last leaves fall.
If you'd like support exploring this kind of reflection, one-on-one coaching can offer the space, structure, and accountability to help you turn insight into action. I’d love to work with you.
If you'd like support during this holiday season, Let's work together!
