Looking forward

and why joy will be at the heart of everything next year

(This voiceover is an audio version of the newsletter below. As always, it’s unedited. If you like/need to listen to these posts I hope you enjoy it!)

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Hello mates!

If you’re wondering why I’m in your inbox on a Sunday, I’ve made all new posts free to everyone between now and the end of the year as a way to say thank you for your support in 2023. It’s been an incredible year at The Tortoise and knowing there’s nearly 4,000 of us here now blows my mind.

Also! Between now and Dec 26, I’m offering 25% off monthly and annual subscriptions* for 2024.

*As I mentioned last week, if you’re a current monthly subscriber (or an annual subscriber whose payment is due to reset shortly) and would like to take advantage of the discount, the only way to do this is to unsubscribe and then resubscribe at the discounted price. I’ve tried to find another solution but from what I see there is no other way. I’m sorry!

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Earlier this week I took some time to look back over the year. When I reflect on where I was in myself (deep in healing post-thyroidectomy), my work (finding my feet here at The Tortoise and incredibly uncertain of what, if anything, of value I had to say anymore), and my relationship with myself (hoo boy, I was trying, but it was grim), I experienced something I very rarely feel and even more rarely admit to. I felt proud.

Because I can see where I’ve been. I can see where I’ve grown and stumbled and learnt and let go and diverged. That applies to every year of course — we grow, we learn, we let go — but this year I felt like I was paying attention to it. That’s what I was proud of.

And I think so much of that has to do with you, this wonderful, kind-hearted, warm, loving community. While the reasons I grew and learnt and let go were personal, the way I reflected was through my writing, much of which I shared here, with you. I could do that because I felt seen and supported, by you. I expanded my thinking, my creativity, my worldview, because of you.

So as I begin to look forward to next year and all the delight and challenges it will no doubt bring, I first want to tell you what I already know is coming (and ask for your much-respected input).

More joy

The word “joy” keeps appearing to me in a way that I can’t or won’t ignore. I’ve read articles about it, I’ve heard it in song lyrics, I’ve seen it in Christmas cards and end of year greetings. I’ve found it in the faces of people I love. I’ve felt it in my bones when listening to music that lights me up. It’s trickled down my cheeks as I’ve somehow been big enough to hold heartbreak and happiness within myself at the same exact moment.

Someone told me recently they didn’t think there was much joy left in the world. I understand why they said it — things are tough for so many people and this time of year can exacerbate pain — and I could empathise. But in a broader sense, I also think they’re wrong.

Maybe joy doesn’t look simple and sweet like it did when we were young. Maybe it doesn’t look like magic. Maybe it looks hard fought and fierce. Intentional and empowered. Grass-stained, dirt-caked, tear-drenched and alive. Quiet and soulful and private and tender. Maybe it’s all of those things, or none of them.  

Suffice to say I disagree with the person who told me there wasn’t much joy to be found. There is so much joy to find. And if we truly can’t find it, what’s stopping us from creating it? Giving it? Pulling it out of thin air and depositing it into the world?

We can’t banish shadow with more shadow. To do that, we need light. Hope. Joy. Radical and quiet, powerful and tiny. Private and public. Enchantment, wonder, awe, beauty, glee, happiness, contentment, relish, pleasure, charm, thrill, delight. All of it.

I don’t mean to disappear in sickly sweet platitudes and emotion-minimising toxic positivity. I’m looking for joy that exists in spite of pain and tragedy and the messiness of being human. That exists arm-in-arm with it. That ripples out into the world as a form of radical advocacy and protest, a clarion call to feel it all. A fierce joy. A quiet joy. A deeply personal joy that might just pass beyond ourselves, into the world, in ways we can’t possibly imagine.

Also, joy feels bad-ass sometimes.

I want next year to feature joy. Joy in my work. Joy in life. Joy in my relationships— with myself, my loved ones, the world. I know there are challenges ahead next year. There always are. And some years are harder than others. But that doesn’t mean there can’t also be joy.

I don’t usually decide on a word for the year before the current one is over, but I seem to be tossing away all manner of shoulds and must-dos lately, so why not that one too? I think my guiding word of 2024 will be joy.

As always, the what will fluctuate, the how will change, and the why will absolutely surprise me. I never thought this year’s guiding principle of 1% would see me dropping so many things, yet here I am, feeling far less weighed down than this time last year.

I’m excited. And proud. And from now on, this earnest, idealistic, heart-on-her-sleeve, never the fun parent, worrier of what others think, is leaning into joy. Radical, silly, tiny, enormous joy. Even if it feels uncomfortable. (Especially if it feels uncomfortable.)       

Themed writing

I loved the way my work was structured here this year. Writing to the kids’ school terms and taking time off when they’re on break* meant I could divide the year loosely into four themes. It also meant each term of writing felt like a project in itself, with a beginning, middle and end. When I used to write posts and produce podcasts week-in and week-out, year-round, the thing I loved gradually became a grind.

Next year, I’ll be writing to terms and very loose themes again, and I’d love your input into what you’d like more of in your inbox. Paying subscribers already had the chance to answer these questions, but I’d love input from everyone here.

• Are there any general themes you’d like me to explore?

• Are there any specific topics you’d like me to write about within those themes? (Or even separate to them — I’m always happy to write off-theme if I think the topic is something people want to know about)

• Are there any topics you’d like Ben and I to dig into on the plodcast?

• Is there anything you’re curious about or struggling with personally that you’d like to see explored through slow living?

I’m also really open to writing more practical letters too (things like this post on decluttering our wardrobes, using honey as a face wash, boring self-care, etc) so if there’s a specific, hands-on element of slow living you’re curious about, let me know about those too.

Some suggestions I’ve already started pondering:

• Health — how to prioritise it, how to separate it from diet/beauty culture, how to redefine it when our realities change

• Pleasure — what it is, how to experience it, how to remove guilt from it, and the sheer joy of it all

• Living counter-culturally — how to feel confident in our choices, how to be open about them, how to bend and flow with the changing nature of our lives and how to stand tall in the face of judgement and/or a world that operates differently to us

*My last letter for the year will be on Sunday Dec 24, and I will return on Thursday 1st Feb.

The 1% Experiment will return — and in 2024, you’re invited

This year I played with the idea of 1% — how tiny changes can add up to big impact —and many of you followed along. The experiment ended up being more about letting go than adding in, and as the year wraps up, I know I have unfinished business with my pal, the 1%.

Next year, I’ll be making it a little more structured, a little more accountability-driven, and a lot more collective.

It won’t kick off officially until Sunday 4th February, but in January I will send out a couple of pre-scheduled posts that will help us think more closely about the parts of life we’d like to apply the 1% to. (I genuinely believe the “new year” doesn’t start until February anyway, so this checks out.)

In the meantime, I want to invite you to think about your own 1% experiment in 2024. If you’re keen to make tiny, consistent change, if you’re keen to experiment with those changes, and if you’d like to be part of a group who will support each other through the year, let me know.

Also, as you do your own reflections of the year that was, it might be worth asking yourself where you’d like to apply the 1%.

• Is there a specific project you’d like to try next year? (Maybe a painting you want to finish, a book you’d like to write, a garden you want to design and plant out). ,

• Is there a skill you’d like to practise? Have you always wanted to learn to crochet, speak Mandarin, or juggle chainsaws?

• Is there a habit you’d like to apply consistent effort to next year? Maybe you want to meditate, play guitar daily, stretch or drink more herbal tea?

• Are there more broad ideas you’d like to explore next year? Things like sustainable living, advocacy, playfulness, connection or creativity?

We can worry about defining 1% next year, and the structure of the experiment is still emerging for me, but if we spend some time thinking about these goals or intentions now, they will be closer to top of mind once 2024 rolls around. Then, we can start thinking in bite-sized, practical chunks.

So that’s it for today. Thank you for coming along with me over the last couple of posts as I looked back and forward. Next Thursday, the final episode of The Tortoise plodcast will be delivered straight to your inbox and your favourite podcast app, and on Sunday (Christmas Eve!) I’ll pop by to wish you the happiest of holidays.

Until then though, enjoy the rest of your weekend, and don’t forget there’s only a week left to grab your discount for The Tortoise in 2024.

Take good care,
Brooke xx