Silver Linings and Quiet Minds

January was hectic, right? Totally crazy, way too long and, if we’re honest, pretty darn gloomy. I can totally embrace a bad mood and I believe a good sob is beautifully cathartic. But I do also have an annoying habit of finding the silver lining. I appreciate this is not always appropriate to the moment. Some shit just doesn’t have a silver lining and it’s annoying when people try to paint one over your sadness, instead of simply sit there with you in its shadow.

But, in this case, my January downer did have a silver lining: the realisation that meditation is a total act of self-kindness. Not a virtuous act, but something that simply feels good. I have a busy brain, always planning the next thing and struggling to sit still in the moment. And writing lists can only get you so far. I’m not good at calming my mind or letting my thoughts quietly drift by. I have a tendency to latch on to them and worry at them like branches in the wind. But, with the help of Headspace, I’ve learnt just enough to accept where I’m at and start enjoying the process.

A few weeks in and I find myself looking forward to that part in the day where I sit quietly and distance myself from the usual chatter whirling in my head. I don’t plan to stop this habit anytime soon.

If meditation is a step too far right now, you might start with a zentangle: a simple abstract drawing based around two or three meandering lines. In contrast to a doodle, zentangles encourage ‘relaxed focus’, thinking only about the activity in hand. Draw whatever patterns or shapes spring to mind and simply enjoy the process.

Happy February guys. Here’s to a calmer month ahead.

A Year with a Bullet Journal

I can’t recall how I first encountered the bullet journal concept. I do know that I was convinced from the outset and haven’t looked back. Or, I should say, I have looked back – at my ideas, adventures and plans across 2017 –
because they are all in one simple notebook.

The bullet journal is such a simple idea it seems surprising that it has gained trademark status. Yet often the simplest ideas are the best. Whilst there’s a number of elements to the ‘bujo’ system, the key genius for me is creating an index of your notes as you create them. The idea of valuing my notes sufficiently to catalogue them in this way has been a game changer.

Before I picked up my first Leuchterm, back in February 2017, I had a gazillion notebooks on the go at once: one filled with shopping lists, another rarely-used journal, a third with some sketches, a fourth with meeting notes. And so it goes on. Needless to say, once scribbled on the page, these notes were never seen again.

Now I have in my hand a book with a full year. Sure, it’s filled with ‘to do’ lists and diary dates. But it also holds projects, plans, memories and photos (this was the year I realised the internet is probably going to die at some point, so I best not leave all my photos on Instagram). It holds reading lists and quotes that I’ve come across. I’ve been surprised by how often I refer back to them. Now I can quote Emerson and Quinn at you! (But that’s for another post).

Looking to 2018, and filling a shiny new notebook for the year, I can look back through 2017 and see what ideas I didn’t put in to action and set some tangible goals. I’ve certainly found it useful as a planning tool, but the reason I love it (and the reason I’m sticking with it) is for the joy of having this little scrapbook of a year well lived.

If you’re interested in starting your own bullet journal (if only for the excuse to buy more stationery) you can find out more from the originator, Ryder Carroll. Happy scribbling!

The Gift of Reading

There’s a box in my parents’ house that is brought down from the loft every Christmas. Inside is a treasure trove of family memories, books far older than me with dusty paperboard covers and faded colours, pages full of animal tales and winter adventures. There’s the Mole Family Christmas, complete with cassette tape ribbon well-worn from repeated listens. Or Bertie’s Escapade, the tale of an ambitious pig who goes carolling with his farmyard friends. There are some common favourites: A Charlie Brown Christmas and The Jolly Christmas Postman, a copy held surprisingly intact with its accompanying fairytale mail (evidence no doubt of our childish respect for the important missives of Little Red Riding Hood or the Three Little Pigs.)

This collection was added to over the years with neat paper packages under the tree, appreciated only after the flashier toys had been opened and all the candy eaten. These unassuming packages are the gifts that have lasted far longer than the train set or the big blue truck, still now a tiny portal in to past festive seasons.

It’s little wonder that books remain my gift of choice. It’s not only their neat shape for wrapping that makes them appealing, but also their variety and beauty. Even if never read, a book will look pretty on a coffee table or propping up a wobbly leg.

Many publishers have risen to the challenge of the e-book by printing ever more beautiful editions, reminding us that the physical object is part of a book’s great appeal; the choice of font, the end paper and paperweight all bound up with a cover design that is your own personal piece of artwork to carry with you whilst you devour the contents (or at least snap a bookstagram.)

With such variety it’s possible to find a book to suit every interest, no matter how obscure. Whatever the topic, you can be sure someone has written a book about it. It’s a pleasure to wander the rows of a well-curated bookshop, encountering unusual histories of mountains or river journeys, instructions for knitted rock stars or biographies of lesser-known physicists.

As often as I’ve made a careful and considered choice, there’s just as many books that have come to the rescue at the last minute. I suspect I’m not the only one who’s wandered in to Wighterstones on a Christmas Eve to find a good gift for that difficult cousin. There’s plenty of suggestions amongst their tables of cookbooks and calendars. Still beyond, there remains the quiet orderliness of their shelves, belying the December bustle.

One year we gave each other second hand books. It was an extra challenge to hunt through the various charity shelves to find something just right. Some charity bookshops give book plates this time of year that say where the book was bought and where the proceeds will go.

In a season of excess there is something delightful about the slow pace and simple pleasures of a good book. It’s the perfect accompaniment to most every other winter cliche, be it mulled wine by the fireside or vegging out after overeating. So, give a book a home this Christmas. The possibilities are endless.

December Came

Christmas is in two weeks. It seems to have arrived quite gently this year. Out of necessity and design we have been merrily getting our craft on. In a flurry of gifting and some magazine assignments amidst redecorating, our house has seen more hammer and nails, yarn and thread than it has in the past ten months.

The oven is working hard, churning out thanksgiving dinner, pies, cookies and ninjabread men. I listen to old crooners and think of Grama doing the same across the ocean, whilst she sends me snaps of her cat by the tree.

We bought our tree yesterday (and a replacement stand as I mysteriously misplaced ours in autumn’s enthusiastic clear-out). The extra branches are now lying in a box, waiting for one of us to muster them in to a wreath. But the fire needs tending and I’m deep in the middle of reading The Once and Future King, so that probably needs some attention before any more of this crafting business continues.

So, for now, here’s some Christmas decorations we made earlier.

Travelling Solo

Europe Collage

I’ve recently returned from a few days travelling across Europe by myself. It wasn’t until someone asked me that I realised I’ve never actually done so until now. I was surprised to feel a little apprehensive the night before my departure from Lithuania. This was partly due to the fact that my travel plans fell apart the night before departure and I had to quickly hustle an alternative route from Vilnius to Warsaw. Such small details as a train route no longer being in operation are not enough to put me off!

It’s only been in the last year that I realise how haphazard my journey plans can be. I’m simply not the most organised of travellers. The tone was set on my first post-uni adventure with Tom. Armed with bikes, tent and limitless time, there was simply no need to set a schedule. We meandered our way across Europe in perfect harmony, nosing out our route as we went. It’s my favourite way to travel; leaving room for the unexpected.

It’s not so easy to allow for such freedom with only five days to cover over 2000km. I had my route planned and my hostels booked: a day in Warsaw and a day in Berlin, amidst days of travelling in between. Regardless of the odd travel mishap, it was marvellous. I braved my own company, heard unexpected stories from strangers along the way, ate exactly where and what I wanted and generally did as I pleased. I’m trying to overcome my people-pleasing inclinations. Travelling alone is certainly a useful way to exercise one’s selfishness.

Running shoes proved the best thing to pack (thank you to Tom for the encouragement!) Light on my feet, my tourist status hidden behind the universal runner’s lycra uniform, I explored new places in the morning light and constructed my mental map. The food was fantastic, varied and almost entirely vegetarian (bar the obligatory post-hangover bratwurst in Berlin). The hostels were clean and friendly (if not for the quietest of nights’ sleep.)

I became better at sitting at the bar by myself, beer and book in hand, happy to watch the world go by. I discovered that I am strong and not to be messed with, but that I can also make new friends and have wild times in a new place. Perhaps these are things I already knew about myself. Perhaps not. Either way, it was fun to get to know me a little better. I think we could all do with giving ourselves a little more time. Of course, I suspect that my solo travels were made all the sweeter knowing that my best friend and my crazy hound were waiting for me at home. They’re with me in my heart even when we’re miles apart.