For years, I tried to make one notebook do everything — plan, record, reflect, dream. It always ended the same way: cluttered pages and a sense of guilt and overwhelm when I couldn’t get them to work. It always felt too messy for a planner, too structured for a journal.
After moving into my weeks at the start of September, after it being on the shelf for most of the year, I started to play with the idea of using two Weeks to plan my year and keep me on track. I needed something that honoured both the parts of me, the part that craves structure and the part that moves through life by feeling (hello AuADHD).
That’s how I landed on what I’m calling my Dual Compass Flow — two Hobonichi Weeks planners, each with their own purpose and drive.
The Workhorse — structure & steadiness
The first Weeks is my Workhorse – a calm, practical space for logistics and focus.
It lives on my desk, or by my side and opens to neatish columns of appointments, admin notes, and quiet to-dos. The left page keeps my week anchored in time; the right page sorts my thoughts into three simple lists: Must, Maybe, and Waiting.
There’s nothing fancy here — just steadiness. It’s the notebook that keeps my days moving forward without the noise.
The Wanderer — Reflection & Rhythm
The second Weeks is my Wanderer — a softer space that lives by the sofa, ready for slow evenings.
Each day gets a single line: a tiny memory, a scent, a sentence that caught me. The rest of the spread is a free space — sometimes a vignette, sometimes a doodle, sometimes nothing at all. It’s my way of saying, I was here.
While the Workhorse keeps me on track, the Wanderer helps me remember why the track matters.
The Flow Between Them
Morning starts with the Workhorse — I scan my anchors, write my top three, and step into the day.
Evening belongs to the Wanderer — I close the loop with a sentence or two, maybe a pressed leaf or photo.
They speak quietly to each other, these two notebooks. One plans the journey, the other notices the view.
Closing Reflection
This two-notebook rhythm feels like exhaling. It’s simple, portable, and kind. There’s space for both the structure that keeps me steady and the softness that keeps me alive inside it.
If you’ve ever felt torn between a planner and a journal, maybe you don’t have to choose. Maybe, like me, you just need two small compasses — one for direction, and one for meaning.
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