The BIG DIG is a free email delivered fresh to your inbox each week.
Our underground expedition will get you journaling about the juicy stuff. The journal prompts and writing exercises help you:
- build a bold, colorful and happy life
- destroy writer’s block
- get unstuck
- enjoy deeper relationships
- secure more time to do what you love
- drink less and sleep more soundly*
*These claims have not been evaluated by the FDA.
Hate spam? Me too! I promise to keep your email private. And I won’t send more than 1 or 2 emails per week. You can unsubscribe at any time, but you probably won’t want to. (Unless my potty mouth or affinity for squirrels offends you.)
Join over 2,000 fellow archaeologists as we explore what’s buried below the surface in the Big Dig.
As a bonus, subscribers gain access to the password-protected email archive. That means a nearly limitless supply of inspiration to help you dig deep in your journal. And you’ll occasionally get special offers from me, like early access to new e-classes or downloads available only to subscribers.
Regular journaling helps you define and materialize the life of your dreams.
Whether that means becoming a top broker on Wall St. or selling all your stuff and living in a bus – that part’s up to you. (Full disclosure: I’ve been known to daydream about the untethered, gypsy life in a seafoam green, fully-restored 1962 Volkswagon Westfalia… )
Ok, fine. but why the “Big Dig?”
These weekly email journal prompts help us “dig deep” in our journaling. We write to get at those answers buried below the surface. One reader described this aptly as “soul archaeology.”
But you never really know what you’ll end up with once you start digging, do you?
The Big Dig was an enormous, decade-long construction project in Boston, my former hometown. Boston’s Big Dig wore on for much longer than expected. Like in life, there were complications. It made a gigantic mess and didn’t go as planned.
The term “Big Dig” reminds us that this undertaking of self discovery is a weighty one. When excavating our true selves, we’re bound to make a mess. Sometimes we unearth misplaced bones. Sometimes we hit a water main.
We probably won’t finish on time and under budget. And our ceilings may cave in when we finally open for business. But that’s all a natural part of the process.
I hope you’ll join us.
Yours in journaling,
P.S. No squirrels are harmed in the making of these emails.