The Power of Silence (and Writing)
When I lead retreats—whether half-day or full-day—they’re often packed with lessons and leadership principles designed to build a common foundation. We usually dive into strategic discussions, break into small groups, and work through real-time challenges to generate ideas and solutions.
But at a recent retreat focused on our Resilient Warrior Leader framework, things unfolded a bit differently.
The original plan was to explore the tenets of Resonant Leadership, including mindfulness, hope, and compassion, and to guide the team through self-assessments, group exercises, and teamwide discussions. But in a conversation with the executive who brought me in to facilitate the day with their senior leadership team (18 participants in total), I made a different suggestion:
Let’s make space for silence.
With so much focus on resonance and resilience, why cram 10 hours of content into an 8-hour retreat (because that’s what we facilitators/consultants do!)? If we were going to practice what we preach, we needed to give leaders the opportunity to pause, reflect, and recover.
So that’s exactly what we did.
As a trainer and consultant, it’s not always easy to give up precious facilitation time. But our goal isn’t to show how much we know—it’s to help learners grow and advance the mission of our client.
At my recommendation, the client purchased 18 Moleskine journals. We carved out three blocks of 30 minutes throughout the day for private, individual journaling using structured prompts. The practice draws inspiration from Writing to Heal by James W. Pennebaker, whose research shows that expressive writing—when done honestly—can increase resilience, self-awareness, and emotional healing.
The Journaling Prompts
Prompt 1: The Cost of Carrying It All
About 45 minutes into the retreat, we began our first journaling session. The prompt invited leaders to reflect on the emotional weight they carry in their roles. This wasn’t about fixing anything. It was about noticing and naming what’s beneath the surface.
What have I been holding in or pushing through that I haven’t fully acknowledged? (Where have I said “I’m fine” when I wasn’t? What’s the emotional cost?)
What does burnout look like or feel like in my body and behavior? (Describe a recent moment where you felt “at the edge.” What triggered it? What did you need?)
What do I fear would happen if I slowed down, said no, or set firmer boundaries? (Be honest. What belief drives that fear? Where did it come from?)
Prompt 2: The Johari Window
Later, we explored the Johari Window model—Open, Blind, Hidden, and Unknown. The prompt that followed asked leaders to reflect on how well they know themselves, and how their self-awareness (or lack thereof) shapes their leadership. The more light we bring into those hidden or unknown areas, the more authentic and resonant we become.
The Open Area (Known to self and others): What qualities or behaviors do I confidently share with my team? How do I want to show up as a leader—and do my actions reflect that?
The Blind Spot (Unknown to self, known to others): What feedback do I tend to avoid or brush off? What have others said about me that I resisted—but might actually be true?
The Hidden Area (Known to self, unknown to others): What am I afraid to reveal as a leader? Why do I hold back? What might happen if I brought more of that part of me into the open?
The Unknown Area (Unknown to self and others): What surprises me when I slow down and reflect deeply? What feelings or insights just beneath the surface am I only now beginning to uncover?
Prompt 3: The 30-60-90 Resilient Warrior Plan
To wrap the day, we invited leaders to begin shaping a personal 30-60-90 day plan for resilience. This final exercise grounded the insights from the day into forward movement.
The anecdotal feedback was overwhelmingly positive. Participants loved that this retreat wasn’t just another jam-packed agenda—it gave them permission to slow down, breathe, and reflect. If you had driven past the retreat center, you would have seen senior leaders journaling in garden chairs, porch swings, and tucked-away benches.
As I shared in last week’s post and often remind clients that I coach: You already have the tools—you just need to believe you're holding them.
For me, writing has always been one of those tools. In the midst of volatility, uncertainty, complexity, and ambiguity, journaling helps me center myself and make sense of what’s swirling around me.
Tips for Starting Your Own Journaling Practice
If you're ready to explore journaling, here are a few key tips to get started:
1. Set yourself up for success: Find a time when your mind is quiet—before the day’s fires start burning. Choose a comfortable space. I like a solid hardwood table that supports my writing posture. Begin with a few deep breaths to settle your thoughts.
2. Treat it like a muscle: Journaling, like yoga or any reflective practice, takes time. Don’t expect to go deep on day one. Start small. Be patient and gentle with yourself.
3. Keep it private: This is your space. At the retreat, I reminded participants that no one would be reading their entries. Write what you need to write. And if it feels too vulnerable, burn the pages afterward—literally. It’s your process.
4. Handwritten vs. digital? Doesn’t matter: While I believe there’s something healing about handwriting, the medium is less important than the message. Use what works for you—Moleskine or Google Docs. The goal is expression.
5. Be prepared for emotion: Journaling often unearths layers we’ve built for protection. Don’t be surprised if emotions rise—especially sadness, grief, or anger. That’s part of the healing. If it becomes overwhelming, please reach out to a therapist or professional who can help you process safely.
I closed our retreat prompt sheets with these two quotes. They’re worth keeping close as you begin your own journey into silence and writing:
“We do not heal the past by dwelling there; we heal the past by living fully in the present.” - James W. Pennebaker
“When we own our stories, we can write a brave new ending.” - Brené Brown
