The Catalyst Game: What the Thirty Days Look Like

A month of mornings, one prompt at a time.

This month I finally bought a journal I'd been eyeing at my local bookstore. It's called Glimmers, a practice for capturing small daily moments of joy. A glimmer is the opposite of a trigger: the small thing that tells your nervous system it's safe to be delighted.

My first entry was about wandering a favorite store a few weeks before my birthday and finding a jersey with my birth month's number on the front, hanging there in my size like it was held for me.

Journaling belongs in any intentional practice, including my own.

If you have a practice you keep meaning to start, the practice is rarely the problem. The first morning is, and so are the twenty-nine after it.

The Catalyst Game was built for that stretch.

What the thirty days look like

Each morning, a prompt arrives. It's small and specific, and it's meant to be answered before the day gets loud.

I write alongside every cohort, same prompts, same mornings.

Over a month, the entries become a written record of your own becoming.

Why it stays small

Each cycle holds a small number of seats on purpose. A cohort you can feel is different from an audience you can't.

When it runs

Cycles open seasonally, and each one begins with an orientation before the first morning. The studio letter is where every new cycle is announced first.

One door, open now: Join the studio letter → to hear when the next cycle opens.

// the practice is small. the record it leaves isn't.

Onward + upward. ☁️

Adapted from a studio letter, September 2026.