It's that time of year

A fieldnote on rest

I’m gutted to be writing you this from bed. I’m sick, but it’s hardly surprising - with my husband a teacher, and children at two different schools, our house is a hotbed for winter bugs.

Whilst part of me wants this last letter of 2023 to be an extra-special, nuanced wrap-up of the year - what feels more true is to allow myself rest, and share this beautiful poem by Julia Fehrenbacher instead. It captures much of how I wish to live in 2024.

Whether you’re working, resting, or playing (or all three!) I hope you enjoy:

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The Cure For It All

Go gently today, don’t hurry
or think about the next thing. Walk
with the quiet trees, can you believe
how brave they are—how kind? Model your life
after theirs. Blow kisses
at yourself in the mirror

especially when
you think you’ve messed up. Forgive
yourself for not meeting your unreasonable
expectations. You are human, not
God—don’t be so arrogant.

Praise fresh air
clean water, good dogs. Spin
something from joy. Open
a window, even if
it’s cold outside. Sit. Close
your eyes. Breathe. Allow

the river
of it all to pulse
through eyelashes
fingertips, bare toes. Breathe in
breathe out. Breathe until

you feel
your bigness, until the sun
rises in your veins. Breathe
until you stop needing
anything
to be different.

by Julia Fehrenbacher

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I’m wishing you and yours everything good for the holiday season.

Thank you for your support this year. For being part of Glitter and Biscuits as I stumble onwards. I hope me choosing to share some of my journey, and what I’m learning along the way, is nourishing to you on yours.

(I’ll be back here on the 5th or 12th January - I haven’t decided which yet)

With love,

Claire

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