Keep it.
Share it.
Leave it somewhere new.

A delightful mess of tiny cards with big ideas. Left in unexpected places for the curious, the weary, and the wonderfully weird.

Confetti for your brain.

A clay bowl of kraft cards on a table in a hotel lobby. The top card reads: A free society protects both peace and protest.
Found at the Hewing, Minneapolis.
You found one

The universe. Or a mischievous human.

Somebody left a little thought here for whoever came next. Hello, whoever came next. Read it twice. Keep it if it sticks. Otherwise, leave it somewhere new and give it another adventure.

We love hearing where they turn up. Tell us where you found yours, and we'll add the spot to the list below.

The front and back of one card. Front: If you're going to be thinking, you may as well think big. Back: Keep it. Share it. Leave it somewhere new.
The deck

Little brain snacks.

Every card we've set loose so far. Some are funny. Some are deep. Some might pick a small fight with your assumptions.

Some we wrote. Some we borrowed. Some have been wandering around for years. We're here to keep the thoughts travelling.

Click the big card for another, or pick one from the pile below. Download any of them and leave it somewhere it doesn't belong.

A fanned stack and eight loose kraft cards on a white table, including Churchill and JFK quotes
A ThoughtSprinkle card

Where they have been

Cards travel. Some of them write home.

  • The Hewing Hotel, Minneapolis. A bowl on the lobby table, filled and left. The first batch carried a stamp on the back: Originally found at the Hewing.
  • In a friend's pocket, handed out at a few nights out and a work event. Not everyone knew what to make of them. That's sort of the point.
  • Library books, coffee shop tables, and the odd brick wall around town. Unconfirmed, by design.

Found one somewhere not on this list? Tell us.

Kraft cards in a clay bowl on a wooden table at the Hewing Hotel
How they are made

Magic, but with a paper cutter.

Dozens of kraft cards laid out on a wooden table A tall stack and a loose spill of freshly cut kraft cards on a wooden desk An opened kraft folder of banded card stacks on a cutting mat Kraft and manila mailers covered in white typewritten labels

Typewriter type, printed ten to a sheet on heavy kraft paper, then cut by hand at a real table by real humans. Fin does most of the cutting, when we can get them off their phone and onto the paper cutter.

The edges aren't perfect. Neither are we. We're not fancy. We're thoughtful.

Some go out alone. Some go out as a deck: a kraft folder, a letter inside the cover, four stacks held with paper bands, all tucked into a mailer. Every band and every envelope gets a label, because a plain envelope seemed like a missed opportunity.

Tear here to let the thoughts escape. Small on purpose. Big when it lands right. This card might not be for you. Or it might be exactly for you. Not mass-produced. Just made with weird amounts of care. The universe delivers in kraft paper now. This is how tiny ideas travel. You're part of the journey now. This moment is not ordinary. Neither is what's inside.
A kraft folder lying open: a typewritten welcome letter above four banded stacks of cards
Inside the cover

Welcome to ThoughtSprinkle.

You're holding a tiny stack of ideas meant to be kept, shared, or left behind for someone who needs them.

These aren't fortune cookies.
They're not advice.
They're sparks. Seeds. Whispers to your wiser self.

– Keep one.
– Give one.
– Leave one behind.

Let the thoughts travel. Or let them transform you.

Some cards are funny. Some are deep. All are a little bit dangerous.

Sprinkle thoughtfully. Or chaotically.
We won't tell you what to do.

The burn deck

Some cards are meant to go up in smoke.

Cards with prompts.
You write.
You burn.

Twenty cards: the title card below, plus nineteen prompts in two kinds. Release cards are for what you're ready to set down. Invite cards are for what you'd like to come find you. Pick one, finish it on the back, and burn it over a bowl. What happens after that is between you and the smoke.

Transform,
From Ashes to Emergence:

–Release what was
–Invite what will be
–Write, Burn, Begin

Use a fireproof bowl. We're not responsible for your curtains.

A banded stack of burn cards, the top one reading Transform, From Ashes to Emergence, with three green-tipped matches held on by a drip of red wax Two hands holding a burning burn-deck card over a stone bowl
read all nineteen prompts

Release

  • I forgive myself for…
  • What I once carried to survive, I now release to live.
  • I no longer need to prove this.
  • I release the weight of this expectation.
  • I have been holding on to this out of love or fear — and now I choose differently.
  • I honor this pain, and its teachings before it leaves.
  • I am grateful for what this once gave me and I release it now.

Invite

  • What my soul has been quietly asking for.
  • Bring this dream I am brave enough to name.
  • I am ready to receive what I once thought I didn't deserve.
  • I invite the version of me who already knows how to do this.
  • This is the feeling I want to wake up with.
  • I welcome this abundance not as luck, but as alignment.
  • I give this desire a place to land.
  • This is the partnership, the kinship, the connection I am ready to build.
  • I light this flame as a signal for this to come find me.
  • What is mine will know the way home.
  • Bring this, the work my hands long to do.
  • I am willing to grow big enough to hold this dream.
An opened kraft letter about a winter ritual, a banded stack of burn cards labeled Write. Burn. Transform., and a few green-tipped matches labeled Holiday magic? It starts with a tiny controlled fire.
Holiday edition

A small winter ritual.

Ten cards, five of each, folded into a typed letter with a few matches under a sticker.

read the letter

The holidays ask us to pause, to reflect, to gather warmth around us as the year turns over.

You're holding a small winter ritual.. five invitations to set down what no longer fits and five to make room for what's ready to arrive.

Pick a “Release” card. Follow its prompt. Write on the back what you're ready to let the year take with it. Burn it, safely.

Pick an “Invite” card. Follow its prompt. Write what you want the new year to bring in. Burn it too, or keep it close.

Fire is one of the oldest forms of celebration.. a way to honor endings and bless beginnings.

May this season bring you peace, possibility, and a brighter path ahead.

a wish for the warmest holidays.

Burn gently.
Begin boldly.

Write. Burn. Transform. What you burn, you free. Holiday magic? It starts with a tiny controlled fire.
The democracy deck · Minneapolis, winter 2025–26

Patriots were the original rebels.

Last winter, watching federal immigration enforcement unfold in Minneapolis, I kept coming back to the things we’re supposed to be able to count on: due process. The Bill of Rights. The freedom to speak, to protest, to question the people in charge.

So I wrote fifty little cards. Then I left them around town.

They stand for liberty, accountability, dignity, and a government that answers to its people. Those commitments belong to everyone, whatever party you vote for. You can love your country and ask it to do better. Sometimes that’s exactly what loving it requires.

A little reminder on kraft paper: checking power is a patriotic tradition.

Eat My Words, a Minneapolis bookstore, gave the cards a spot on the counter. Take one for free. Keep it, pass it on, or leave it where a little constitutional mischief might do some good.

Written and scattered by Elwin.

Thirteen democracy cards laid out on a plaster wall, including Peaceful protest is the heartbeat of democracy, and We must check power, not worship it
Photo: Eat My Words
A democracy deck card

Labs

Your thoughts want out.

Got a thought too good to stay trapped in your Notes app? Give it a body. The tools are here. Go make a little trouble.

The same tools we use. Free, in your browser, nothing to sign up for.

Contact

Say hello.

Found one? Wrote one? Have somewhere that could use a little thoughtful mischief? Tell us.

Thoughtsprinkle@elwin.net