2023, here we come. Eventually.

on taking it slow

A quick note before we begin. I’m trying something new: an audio-version of the newsletter. I want to offer an alternative to anyone who needs or prefers to listen to posts, and present them to you as-is. That is, they’re recorded at my desk and are completely unedited. Dog noises and life noises and possibly stomach noises will all feature at some point. I hope they’re helpful. (The recordings, not the stomach noises.)

Hello hello, and Happy New Year! (Yes, I’m still saying “Happy New Year” even though it’s February. January is a practise-run and no-one can convince me otherwise, so I’ll be greeting people like this for at least another couple of weeks).

How was your January? Did you enjoy the holidays? How did you celebrate New Year? (Me: by falling asleep on the lounge until the kids woke me at 11:55pm so we could see midnight together). Did you have any highlights? Any stories to sum up the past few weeks?

If I had to summarise our January, it would be with one word:  

Time.

I took it. I spent it. I frittered and hoarded it. I cherished it and let it slip between my fingers, unnoticed. I looked back and saw how much of it has passed in a slow-moving instant, and I stared towards a horizon of some vague day in the future, trying to convince myself that when it arrives, I’ll be more ready.

We had family time, beach time, garden time and corn-hole-tournaments-in-the-backyard time. Down time, alone time, nap time, play time. Creative time. Outside time. Movie time. Frustrated and inspired and energised and sick-in-bed time.

All of it was spent. All of it is gone. All of it adds up to a new version of me, stacked on top of the old ones, like a tower of delicious pancakes.

Usually, the six weeks I take away from work over the summer feels like more than enough time. (And believe me, I know how lucky I am to be able to structure my life and work this way. I don’t take it for granted.) Most years, I come to the day before school goes back and I am ready. Beyond ready.

This year though, I needed every moment. It took me so much longer to unwind than it ever has before; weeks passed until I felt like I could - and did - let go. Just another example of the life lesson that has been repeating itself ad nauseum over the past year: be patient.

But even while I kept bumping up against reasons to practise patience (and lord how I have to practise), I also found myself repeatedly faced with another, related, idea, which has ended up becoming my guiding phrase of 2023.

(If you’ve never heard me talk about this before, I try to nominate a guiding word or phrase each year. I use it to make decisions and bring my focus to a sharper edge, otherwise I’m your stereotypical creative, chasing shiny objects and new projects around in circles. In previous years I’ve used words like ‘adventure’, ‘health’ and ‘create’ to various degrees of success.)

And this one idea kept appearing in conversations and podcasts, books and articles, to the point where I had no choice but to pay attention.

Simply put, my phrase of the year is… 1%.

At this stage I’m applying it in two different ways.

Firstly, by seeing what might happen if I make just a 1% improvement in some part of my life, every day. What might my health or work or relationships look like in a year if I commit to a regular 1% improvement? (Spoiler alert, it adds up to a lot.)

Secondly, 1% of our day equals just under 15 minutes. What might happen if I choose to spend that 1% intentionally working towards something? A goal, a priority, a personal value?

It appeals to me so much because it represents forward motion, intention, sustainable growth and, quite frankly, feels like the antithesis of burnout and hustle. Like a big, grinning middle finger to the idea that we should be hurtling along at 110% at all times. It appeals to the inner rebel in me, for sure, but even just a couple of weeks in, I also have the feeling that it just might prove to be transformative.

I’m not quite ready to write about it in depth because it still feels fragile and new and I’m scared that by trying to capture it too soon, I’ll squash the life out of it. But I can tell you that it already feels exciting. And applicable. And sustainable. And slow. (So, so perfectly slow.)

I can also tell you that I’ll be podcasting about it at some point in the not-too-distant future, which means that, yes, the poggie will return in 2023! It’s going to look and sound different, but I’m really excited to have some more slow conversations this year.

As for the rest of my work, and more specifically what you’ll find here over the coming weeks and months (this might be particularly helpful for all the wonderful new subscribers who joined over the break – hello! Thank you for being here!) I have ideas. Many of them. In fact, having ideas has rarely been my problem. It’s figuring out which ones to take action on that I struggle with. Plus, this year looks quite different in our house, as both kids are now at high school (how?!) and my health is finally edging towards some kind of stability. My previous default would be to rush head-long into all the projects but I’ve had an absolute gutful of hustle culture and the push hard/crash hard cycle, so I’ve resolved to take things, well, slow. 1% at a time, if you will.

What I do know is that every subscriber, both free and paid, will receive:

• A (mostly) weekly newsletter sent on a Friday and available to read via email, web or the Substack app. I’m also resolving to include an unedited audio version of these posts from here on, for anyone who either needs or prefers to listen to their newsletters, and you’ll find that at the top of this post.

• Access to our beautiful, uplifting, weekly Community Confab in The Tortoise chat, available via the Substack app (iOS and Android)

• A monthly episode of The Slow Home Podcast, starting real soon and available both here and wherever you get your pods

I will be introducing some paid content over the coming weeks too, but until I’m a little clearer on what that looks like, I’m going to do something uncharacteristic and sit tight on the details. Plus, it gives me a chance to ask some questions:

What do you want more of here in this space? More connection? More community? More podcasts? Virtual meet-ups? Accountability? More chat threads?  More practical, hands-on ideas for slow living? Feel free to let me know in the comments. I love this little corner of the internet and want to make it sing this year.

Also, if you’d like to join as a paid subscriber, please know that your contribution means more than a cup of coffee to me. It’s one meaningful, concrete way you can support my work, and I appreciate it more than I can say.

Currently…

Reading The Iron King by Julie Kagawa. I haven’t read a fantasy series in a while (the last I read was the wonderful Other Side of the Sky duology by Amie Kaufman and Meg Spooner) and I’m really enjoying it. I also finally read House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune over the holidays and oh my heart. What a beautiful book! Dear Linus! Dear Arthur! I also just finished a re-read of Under the Dome by Stephen King (still one of the most thrilling, desperate, pedal-to-the-metal books I’ve read) which I loved just as much second time around.

Weeding the garden in 15 minute blocks. The rainy summer and more recent warm days mean the weeds have exploded. Ordinarily I’d get the shits and try to tackle the whole thing in one back-breaking day, only to wind up exhausted, but this time I’m spending just 1% of my day on it. Most days I try to treat it like a mindful, useful work break.

Yep. The weed situation is dire. A perfect opportunity to practise the 1%.

Laughing at my tiny, fuzzy ringlets. I have lost so much hair over the past few months (thanks, medication and hormones) but it is starting to grow back (thanks, also, medication and hormones) which means I have a frankly bonkers amount of regrowth. Combine this with the humidity, and it’s like I have a halo of fine, curly fuzz. I’m sure it’s very alluring.

Finding delight in harvesting peas, beans, lettuce and radish from the garden. It’s been a rough year for gardening unless you’re a weed (see above) but finally there’s a burst of activity. I doubt we’ll get any tomatoes or cucumber this year, and the golden zucchini is struggling, but we’ll see. In the meantime, the peas and beans are bringing me all kinds of joy.

Feeling grateful to every single person who has purchased or pre-ordered a copy of CARE over the past few weeks. It’s now available in the UK, and will be released in North America next Tuesday, February 7. You can find it at all the usual online suspects, but if possible might I suggest popping into your local indie bookshop and asking them to order a copy or two? Not only does this support your local bookseller but will increase the chances of getting CARE stocked in stores – a huge leg-up in a very tough market, and a sure-fire way of spreading the slow word.

I hope you have a lovely weekend! If you’re keen to join our community confab this week, be sure to check out the chat on your Substack app and come say hi.

Take care,
Brooke xx