hree notebooks. Three pens. Three separate affirmations written at three different times of day, for three different goals simultaneously.
I want to tell you it worked beautifully from the start. It did not.
What the 369 Method Actually Is (Before We Complicate It)
The store has a small curated catalog of products that complement this kind of work, if you want tools alongside the reading.
The structure is simple enough that it gets passed around in screenshots and TikTok captions without much context. You write an affirmation three times in the morning, six times in the afternoon, nine times at night. You do this for 33 or 45 days depending on who you learned it from. The repetition is the point. You are using the writing, the rhythm, the physicality of it, to shift what your nervous system accepts as true.
Nikola Tesla believed three, six, and nine held a particular significance in the structure of the universe. Whether you find that compelling or peripheral, the method that carries his numbers has really helped people move stuck assumptions. I've seen it work. I've watched Beatriz use a version of it for months before I tried it myself, sending me voice notes about what she was noticing, what felt flat, what started to hum.
The question I kept getting from readers, and the question I eventually had to answer for myself, was this: what happens when you have more than one thing you're working on?
The Instinct to Run Everything at Once
Here is where most people, including me, go wrong first.
You have a money goal. You have a relationship goal. You have a career pivot you're trying to make real. And the 369 method feels so clean, so actionable, that you want to apply it to all of them at the same time. You make a spreadsheet (or in my case, you buy three separate notebooks from the bodega on Driggs Avenue and label them in different colors, which is peak avoidance dressed as organization).
The problem is that the 369 method works through something closer to saturation than volume. You are trying to get one specific assumption to feel so normal that your body stops bracing against it. When you split your attention across three affirmations for three different goals, you are not tripling your output. You are thinning the signal.
Neville Goddard wrote, in The Power of Awareness, that the feeling of the wish fulfilled is what does the work. Not the words. The feeling. And feelings require presence. They require you to actually inhabit the scene, the version of your life where the thing has already happened, long enough that your nervous system registers it as real.
When I was running three notebooks, I was writing affirmations. I was not feeling anything. I was completing tasks. There is a difference, and I felt it in my body as a kind of flatness, a going-through-the-motions quality that I recognized from my worst years at the agency, when I was producing work without ever being present in it.
What Broke (Specifically)
I'm not going to pretend it was subtle. By week two of the three-notebook experiment, I was dreading the practice. That dread is information.
What was happening, I think, is that I was toggling between three different identities three times a day. The version of me who already has the money. The version of me who already has the relationship. The version of me who already has the career. And none of them got enough time in the body to root.
Joe Dispenza talks about this in terms of the brain's predictive function. Your brain is constantly running models of what the future looks like based on what the past has given it. When you do repetition work, you are trying to interrupt that model and replace it with a new one. But the model needs coherence. It needs enough signal to register as a real alternative to the old story. Three competing models, each getting a third of your attention, each getting toggled in and out multiple times a day, never achieve that coherence.
Beatriz, who had been watching me complain about this over coffee for weeks, finally said something that cut through: "You're giving each of them a visit. You need to give one of them a home."
She was right. I was visiting three imagined lives. I wasn't living in any of them.
The Reframe That Actually Helped
This is where I landed, and it took me longer than it should have.
The 369 method, used well, is a focusing tool. It is a way of returning to one assumption so many times per day that the assumption starts to feel like the floor you're standing on rather than a ceiling you're reaching for. That effect requires concentration, not multiplication.
So the question for multiple goals is not "how do I run three affirmations at once." The question is "which assumption, if it shifted, would create the most movement across all my goals."
Sit with that for a second.
Because often, the money goal and the relationship goal and the career goal are all downstream of the same stuck assumption. For me, it was something like: I am the kind of person who has to earn everything by grinding, and rest is something I'll be allowed when I've done enough. That one belief was running all three problems simultaneously. It showed up in how I handled money (spend now, panic later, work harder). It showed up in how I approached relationships (perform, prove, exhaust yourself). It showed up in my career (the agency years, the 70-hour weeks, the kitchen floor in March 2022).
When I found the one affirmation that addressed that root, I stopped needing three notebooks.
How to Find the Root Affirmation
This is the practical part, so I want to be specific.
Write down your three goals. Underneath each one, write the fear that lives on the other side of it. What is the thing you're afraid would be true if the goal didn't come through? Do this for each one without editing yourself.
Then look at the fears. Nine times out of ten, they share a center. They are variations on one core belief about what you are allowed to have, what you are worth, what kind of person you are.
That center is your affirmation.
The affirmation you write in the 369 method should address the root, not the fruit. "I am a woman who has more than enough money" addresses fruit. "I am someone who is allowed to receive without earning through suffering" addresses root. The second one will do more work across all three of your goals than three separate affirmations ever could.
And if you really have goals that don't share a root? Two truly separate areas of your life that aren't entangled?
Then you sequence them. You pick the one with the most urgency or the most energetic charge and you run the method on that one, fully, until you feel the assumption shift. Then you move to the next. Sequential focus beats fragmented attention every time. This is not a slower approach. It is a faster one, because you are actually completing the work instead of circling three incomplete loops simultaneously.
If you're looking for structured support alongside this kind of practice, the store has a small catalog worth looking at.
The Writing Itself Still Matters
One more thing, because I see this skipped over.
The physical act of writing the affirmation is doing something. This is not decoration or ritual for its own sake. When you write by hand, you are engaging motor memory, embodied repetition, a slower and more deliberate processing than typing. Bessel van der Kolk's work on trauma and the body makes a case for why physical engagement with a practice matters in a way that purely cognitive engagement does not. The body keeps the score, yes, and the body also keeps the practice.
So when you write the affirmation, write it slowly enough to mean it. Three times in the morning should feel deliberate, spacious, grounded in something. If you are racing through nine lines at night because you're tired and you want to be done, you are completing a task. That's fine, sometimes. But it's not the work.
The version of the practice that actually moves things is the one where the writing slows you down enough to feel something. Even briefly. Even imperfectly. A flicker of the feeling is enough. That's what you're looking for across the three-six-nine: a flicker, then a glow, then something that starts to feel like the floor.
The practice is spacious, deliberate work. One goal at a time, most of the time. A root assumption instead of a surface desire. And writing slow enough to mean it.
Three notebooks from the bodega on Driggs. I still have them. Two of them are blank after page fourteen. The third one is full.
