the world will not slow down for you

but you can create small pockets of stillness

It’s a grand statement but for the most part I believe it’s true: the world slows for no one. If you’ve ever thought: I wish things would calm down for a while, perhaps you need to be thinking: how can I create that calm?

Here’s how I’ve carved out small pockets of stillness this week…

On Friday afternoon I took the long way into town and walked where the grass is long and the trees are blossoming. It was about five minutes of my day but as I stood there I took note of the delicate white petals; the way the afternoon light illuminated the whole tree so the blossoms looked like festoon lights. There was birdsong and a gentle breeze but mostly it was quiet and soft and when I walked away I noticed a significant shift in the headache I’d had for most of the day.

The noticeable dissipation of a headache isn’t dissimilar to the clearing of clutter in the brain, especially if you intentionally wander in a green space after spending most of the day looking at a screen. This is what it means to create breathing space in your life.

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Sometimes, the clearing of clutter must begin at home in the cupboards. Yesterday I sorted through my wardrobe as I do every spring, to donate what I no longer wear and organise everything else. My wardrobe is intentionally small because I like the firm boundary it provides; not too little or too much but rather, just enough.

I folded and rearranged every piece of clothing and stood back to survey the result. I’m unashamed to say it was deeply satisfying. It may be a tiny part of my home, and it is usually hidden behind doors, but there’s an undeniable sense of satisfaction in creating this order for myself, and relishing the ease that will continue for the next few weeks and months.

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The birds are already singing when I walk out the door in the mornings now. It was quiet a few weeks ago, but with a little bit more warmth and light, everything is rousing earlier.

Just this morning I returned home and cleaned the kitchen windows. I wondered, as I always do, why I let them get into such a state before dedicating a small part of my day to them. It only took me ten minutes and just like that the whole room felt cleaner and brighter and subsequently, my mind did, too. I’m always pleasantly surprised at the small amount of time these tasks take me, and the profound difference they make to my day.

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Spring is predictably unpredictable here; it’s not uncommon to have sun, rain, hail, wind and sun (again) in a matter of hours. The winds are often fierce for this month and next and while we can get complacent on the warm days and think to ourselves — maybe we won’t light the fire again ‘til autumn — we can almost guarantee that it will be cold enough for a fire through September and into October.

The occasional warmth has made hanging washing on the line possible. A few days ago the hills hoist was heaving with clothes and bedsheets and I stood back to admire it - this simple homely scene - made even more beautiful by the magnolia tree flowering. I started thinking about what it represents to me: seasonal shifts, growing limbs, stains from homemade food being bleached by the sun, the opportunity to slow down long enough to take notice. This is essentially ‘savouring’ and when we do it, it informs a positive perspective and increases feelings of happiness and contentment.

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These things: walking out of my way to look at blossoms up close, wiping the windows free of winter dust and small fingerprints, sorting and organising clothes, standing back to admire washing as it billows, are so ordinary. They probably look like nothing, or at least not much at all. But they are small moments of stillness that provide clarity; they slow me down and hone my attention.

I want to normalise these simple acts because in doing so I’m saying: this is what makes a life! - noticing these things, talking about them, cherishing them.

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other things

• the sad and infuriating end of Meanjin

• if you’re a writer, I highly recommend Elements of Fiction, an online masterclass with

  Charlotte Wood
  and Emily Perkins. It’s a rich and inspiring deep dive into voice, texture, time, tension and people. I did the live classes earlier this year and I credit them for helping me find momentum (and significantly more confidence and joy) with my novel-in-progress.

• I can’t wait to read fellow-Tasmanian, Erin Hortle’s new novel: A Catalogue of Love.

• a new Maggie O’Farrell novel coming in mid-2026: Land

• I still haven’t decided on my votes for Radio National’s Top 100 Books but I will absolutely be listening to the countdown on October 18.

Thank you so much for all your lovely comments about A Brain That Breathes, available in Australia (Jan 6th), UK (Jan 8th) + US (Jan 13th).

And thank you for your pre-orders - they’re impactful!

Till next week, take care x