A quiet habit tracker for people who want to show up for themselves, without being yelled at by another productivity app.
We call them practices, not habits. Habit is something you fall into. Practice is something you choose.
Coming to the App Store
Four things that make Askeō different from every other habit tracker on the App Store.
Athlete, Ritual, Grind, Inner Work, Make It Yours. The numbers stay. The vibe changes.
Two looks: just the number, or the number paired with a piece of daily wisdom. Cycle through your active practices without ever opening the app.
Commit to a finite goal of 7, 14, 21, 30, 60 days. Or build without constraints. Design deliberate, compounding milestones, or maintain an open practice. Begin small. Then scale your target.
No accounts. No cloud. No tracking. Everything stays on your device. We can't see your data because we never have it.
Guided journeys: curated paths to better habits, backed by research, one day at a time. You just show up.
One short practice each morning, for twenty-one mornings. On the last day, the journey hands you a habit — and steps back.
Missed days stay open, like a door left ajar. Nothing resets. Progress is measured in how far you've come, never in what you broke.
And the science is graded honestly — every claim tells you exactly how much the research holds:
If you're ready to make a change —
start the journey.
I built Askeō because I needed it.
I'm a mother of four. After fifteen years of supporting and holding everyone else's lives together, I was finally ready to step into something for myself. Askeō is the practice of remembering to do that. To show up for yourself in ways that really count.
Discipline isn't punishment. It's the quiet act of choosing yourself, again, today, one more time.
That's what this app is.
That's what the word means.
The constellation that opens Askeō is Hercules.
Not for his strength. For his posture.
The oldest Greek name for this cluster was not a name of triumph. It was simply:
ὁ ἐν γόνασιν — The Kneeler.
A silhouette chiseled into the dark, bowed at his labor. A man caught in the permanent act of his work.
At his head rests Rasalgethi, the mind of the kneeling one. A red giant that brightens and dims on its own slow, internal rhythm.
At his torso sits The Keystone: four stars arranged in the geometry of an arch's load-bearing stone. The structural piece. The exact module that holds the entire shape upright.
Under the inspection of the lens, the four points reveal themselves:
Four distinct coordinates, arranged in the architecture of devotion.
Hercules is dim by modern standards. You have to actively look for him. He hides quietly between Vega and Arcturus, faint enough that the noise of light pollution easily erases him from the sky.
But on a dark, quiet night, the Kneeler appears.
Already at his practice. Already enduring his trial. Entirely indifferent to an audience.
That is the identity we wanted to name.
Not the myth of the flawless strongman. The raw discipline of the one who kneels to the work.