Two minutes.
That's the whole practice.
No streaks. No journals. No reflections you have to write unless you want to. One thought. One choice. The day changes anyway.
Every morning or evening, one card. One headline, one idea. Nothing else competing for your attention. You choose the time it lands.
Two choices. Keep the ones that stay with you. Release the rest. No ratings. No five-star reviews of your own feelings.
The thoughts you steep are saved. After a month you have a strange, quietly personal archive. At most once a week, one resurfaces from your past.
Not a streak.
A throughline.
A thread is a topic you kept returning to. Grief. Being known. Work worth doing. Steep notices which ideas you linger on and gathers them into a named throughline. When a new theme starts pulling at you, a new thread begins. Nothing resets. The threads from months ago are still there, laid out like chapters.
The past year
Which virtues
have you touched?
Every thought you steep leans somewhere. Over months, the shape of where you lean becomes a quiet portrait of the kind of person you've been becoming. Tap a virtue to see what it means.
The shape sharpens slowly. Months, not minutes.
Your virtues
You lean toward Wisdom
Based on 47 steeped thoughts
Your rings
Across the year, Solitude
Lately, Time
What shape
was your year?
Twelve months in cross-section. Each ring is a month, each slice a thread. A thread that grew dark this autumn. A thread that's gone quiet in spring. The year revealed by what you carried, layer by layer.
Read it like a tree. Ring by ring, month by month.
What words
keep returning?
Every kept thought leaves a single word on the page. Over months the words pile up, sized by how often each one came back, a typeset portrait of where your reading lived, set in lead like a torn page from a hand-bound journal.
A page that fills itself in, one word at a time.
Your words
Patience keeps returning
The page is set against not yet
This month's letter
Arrives on the first
Composed from what you kept
What landed
this month?
A monthly artefact composed from the thoughts you kept. Arrives quietly on the first of each month, a single page gathering the shape of the month behind you, in a voice that knows what you read.
Lands on the first. No reminder needed.
What was your year,
in your own words?
Once a year, twelve months of kept thoughts compiled into one printed-feeling page. Not a list, not a chart, a long letter composed from what you carried, set as if it were going to be kept somewhere besides a phone.
Arrives in January, about the year just gone.
Your year
A long letter, once
Twelve months in one page
All five live behind Premium.
Steep shows up once a day, with one thought. It doesn't chase your attention, measure your mood or keep a scoreboard. If you forget about it for a week, it'll still be here when you come back, and it will have waited for you quietly.
Six ways
of thinking.
Steep recognises six kinds of thinker. Read any portrait below; the quiz that finds which is yours lives inside the app. The categories are not diagnostic. They are a reading aid, a small tool for naming a shape you may have felt but never put a word to.
The Slow Brewer
You let things steep.
02The Lens Turner
You rotate things until a different face appears.
03The Edge Walker
You live in the in-between.
04The Quiet Listener
You hear the thing under the thing.
05The Thread Finder
You see the same shape repeating.
06The Honest Sceptic
You trust carefully, and deeply.
Take the quiz inside the app to find yours, it shapes how Steep reads you back.
Read all portraits →The daily thought
is free. Always.
No card required
- One thought every day, forever
- Steep or Pour
- Threads, as they form on their own
- Echoes · a past thought returns at most once a week
- Home screen widget
- Archive of your last 30 days
- Dark mode
per month, or $9.99/year
- Everything in Free
- Pull the thread · a layered re-reading
- Thread Letters · monthly artefacts
- Your Virtues · a slow printed portrait
- Your Rings · a year in cross-section
- Your Words · a typeset page of the words you return to
- Your Year · once a year, a long letter composed from twelve months of kept thoughts
- Full archive · every steep, kept
Your first charge date is in Settings.
one-time, no renewal
- Everything in Premium, forever
- No subscription, no renewal
- Pay once, yours as long as the app exists
- Same letters, rings and virtues
- Quiet support for a small studio
One-time purchase via the App Store.