Walsh's seventh piece of advice was to keep a journal, which he acknowledged was 'harder than tap dancing' for many people. But his argument went beyond mere record-keeping: the act of knowing you will write sharpens your perception of the present. A journal becomes 'this companion you're going to point things out to,' which transforms casual observation into active attention. The practical tips were characteristically specific: begin with a spiral notebook from the drugstore, not a leather-bound diary. Limit the time you spend. Do it every day. When you fail, start again. But the emotional core of the passage was Walsh's admission of personal loss. As a man in his sixties reflecting on a rich life — running one of the world's great museums, decades of studying art, raising a family — he felt genuine grief that so much of it was irretrievable because he hadn't written it down. The regret was specific and real, making the advice far more compelling than any abstract argument for journaling could be.