1. Boundaries are vital
2. I really enjoy watching football
3. Zoom can be great at cutting out social awkardness sometimes #gettothepoint
4. I can say ‘no’ (and it’s empowering)
5. Sitting still is hard
6. Never store your card details online
7. There is gluten everywhere
8. Anger is a worthwhile emotion
9. I am a safe space for others
10. If in doubt, give them a call
11. Cabbage is underrated
12. Suncream should be used in the UK
13. I shouldn’t take my sense of smell for granted
14. The housing system in the UK is messed up
15. Progress isn’t linear
16. Singing out loud with other people is the best
17. Failure is healthy and helpful
18. Staying local all weekend is so restful
19. Silence isn’t always the answer
20. Being ginger in London is fun
21. Aldi is fab for veganism
22. It’s ok for me to end a relationship
23. My French could do with some work
24. Hiring a car is easy (and fun)
25. The words I say have meaning (sometimes I might not realise for years)
26. Everyone is changing constantly
27. I love a flying a kite #allthejoy
Notes On Moving During A Pandemic
In September 2020 I moved.
House, job, city, country, community, church. Everything was uprooted as I ventured down from Glasgow to London. And all of it was set against the backdrop of one big ol’ global pandemic, numerous lockdowns, and multiple, complicated tier systems.
During the past eight months, I’ve done a lot of learning and unlearning, noting a few things I’ve learnt, pondered, noticed and understood more deeply.
Longstanding, old friendships are absolutely vital
When I moved down in September, I left my close friends and community in Glasgow. I am so grateful to those who have championed me from afar, have sent me wee cards or gifts in the post (“just because”) and have been overall 10/10 excellent friends. Moving at any time can be really tough, but having people who are reliable, fun or just a phone call/voicenote away has made such a difference.
Establishing new friendships is key to feeling rooted
I’ve realised that one of my favourite pastimes is making new pals and getting to know/laugh with/cry with other people. I know that when I start to be present with those around me, to gently prioritise the potential new friendships right in front of me or give my time towards people I do not know I start to feel more rooted and grounded. (For sure this has been harder but opportunities for relationships are everywhere – be that with new neighbours, fellow lodgers/housemates, work colleagues, church members or friends of friends. You just gotta have a look and give it a go!)
Old habits don’t die with new surroundings
There are a number of habits I thought I might shake off (lol) through a) living in a pandemic and b) living a new city. Neither of those things made a difference. I still have a tendency to burn the candle at both ends. I still have a tendency to be late for social occasions. I still stay up too late scrolling through Instagram. These are just a few of the many many many old habits that I haven’t quite sorted.
New habits do grow if prioritised
While this statement is obvious and logical, I’ve not believed in it for myself. Routine has been incredibly good for me. I’ve learnt to prioritise a few things more: morning prayer, weekly self-care evenings, monthly deep cleaning/decluttering. Living through a pandemic in a new place has provided me with both a change of scene and a space to try new rhythms. I have to say – I’m a fan of routine now (and I honestly never thought I’d be that kinda gal).
God is present in the mundane
I think I’ve often thought of God concocting a grand plan for my life. In the past I’ve been very forward-focused, vision-oriented and future-centred. Before this pandemic and move, I was often praying about the ‘next step’, asking for discernment from God on this big, unravelling, abstract picture called ‘my life’. Since moving I’ve been struck by how much God shows up in the small, mundane moments – be that a client’s chuckle over the phone, a houseplant growing new shoots or in my wee daily prayers. Life isn’t always exciting and new and vision-y. But that doesn’t mean it’s any less adventurous or fun.
So all in all – I’m grateful. Grateful to know such wonderful people. Grateful to explore new places. And grateful to see little snippets of growth in myself and others.
12 Words for 2020
A note: 2020, at times, felt like a smooshed, slightly stale, custard doughnut – it was blurry round its edges, was very sticky in the middle and yet, for me, it had some sweet moments too.
The following words sum up little pockets of my ponderings (but by no means capture the full essence of this past year):
Gratitude
Friendship
Adrenaline
Inventiveness
Haze
Restlessness
Warmth
Trust
Movement
Learning
Growth
Weariness
I Find Comfort In
- The sound of rain on the roof as I drift off to sleep
- My dressing gown
- Lots of house plants
- Seeing windows full of light
- A warm kitchen
- Snoring dogs
- A bunch of opened letters received from friends
- Watching Community (my comfort blanket TV show)
- Piles of half-read books stacked next to my bed
- Stomping through scattered autumn leaves
- A deep conversation shared over a walk
- Slow morning coffee
- Brewery smells
- A piping hot shower
- Orange juice
- Painting splodges
- Slight mess that lingers
- My dad’s homemade jam
- Reading recipe books before bed
- Being listened to
- Cooking to classical music
- The prayers of others
- Cycling along a river
- A cup of tea made by someone else
- Jigsaws
- Watching bugs carry food/leaves
- Low level mist
- Streetlamps
- A pair of worn out shoes
- Baked beans on toast
- Picking wild brambles
- Slow Sunday afternoons
- Woodlands
- Peering out at the night sky from a window
- Wood burning stoves
- A dram of whisky
- Running in the rain
- Poetry spoken aloud
- Photographs of Scottish landscapes
- Writing lists like these
Breath
Breath.
Breathe.
Breathing.
2020. A year to focus on breath(ing).
In and out
In and out
In and out.
I cannot breathe. A refrain for this year.
Australian wildfires.
Respiratory disease.
Systemic racism.
Each dilemma pointing out the wounds in
our globalised body.
Be it climate change.
Healthcare inequality.
Racial injustice.
Every wound runs deep.
Every breath runs shallow.
Bewilderment
Bewilder.
Be wilder.
Be wild.
Be full of the wild.
—
What does it mean to be full of wilder?
A mishmash of
negative and positive
adrenaline and anticipation.
Profoundly exhilarating
yet
profoundly debilitating.
—
Looking round with eyes wide,
an uncontained sense of
surprise,
shock,
suspense.
Unearthing some juicy gossip,
swallowing a spicy chilli,
submerging in icy water.
—
Time
slows
down.
It could be over
within seconds
but linger there for
hours,
days,
years.
—
Sweating of palms,
skipping of heart,
lurching of gut.
Embodied and disembodied
simultaneously.
Being full of wilder is
curious,
joyful
and
human.
Things I Like (Unashamedly)
- Eating lime pickle out the jar
- Heist films
- Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Breakaway’ album
- Piles of half-read books next to my bed
- Once a week hair-washing
- Tunnels
- Naming TV presenters
- Sriracha and tahini together
- Curating my Instagram stories into highlights
- Poetry (reading it even when I don’t ‘get’ it)
- Receiving letters (hint hint world)
- Rewatching ‘Friends’
- Cookies (all varieties)
- Drying out leaves
- Swimming/mulling around in water
- My pink high vis
- Laughing out loud
- Listening to/watching sad things
- Physical diaries
- Knitting
- Taking photos of shadows and light
- Voicenotes
- Turtlenecks
- Watering my plants (a lot)
- Big gold hoops
- Live jazz music
- The Tudor era
- Controversial topics
- A tote bag
- Watching clips of ‘This Morning’
- Life drawing
- Silent retreats
- ‘Home and Away’
- Strange theatre performances
- Freebies
- Dancing like crazy in da club/at a ceilidh
- Piercings
- Munros
- Skinny dipping
- Traipsing through puddles
- Scottish music
- Impersonating accents/others
- Beer
- Flamingos
- Mustard (colour and condiment)
- Denim
- Seaweed (on beach and under water)
- Looking out the window
- Yellow flowers
- Running in the rain
- Pondering
- Frozen grapes
- Salty hair
- Maps (even if I can’t read them very well)
- Cats
- High quality coffee
- Socks and sandals
- Asking kids how old they think I am
- Wasabi
- Messy hair
- Bowls, bowls and more bowls
- Fresh bed sheets
- My independence
- Colourful art
- Playing imagination games
- Listening to people speaking French
- Menstrual cups
- Wearing sunglasses when it’s sunny but cold
- Party bags
- Swimming in lochs
- Using a disposable camera (and feeling #hipster)
- Middle aisle in Lidl
- The Today Programme
- Brewery smells
- Buying miscellaneous food
- Dewy grass on bare feet
- Apple crumble for breakfast
- Daydreaming
- Liturgy
- Oversized coats
- The sound of the ocean
- Edelweiss
- Lounging in leggings
- Enneagram Instagram posts
- Stained glass
- Learning new things
- Espresso martinis over brunch
- Old cathedrals
- Memes
- Receiving flowers
- Smiling at strangers
- Videos of the deep ocean
- Back to the Future
- Talking aloud to myself
- Cereal for dinner
- Colourful vegetables
- SNL clips
- Dungarees
- Harmonies
- Myself (just about)
2019: 12 Months in 12 Words
January – Preparation
February – Jaunt
March – Endlessness
April – Freshness
May – Sidestep
June – Strain
July – Progress
August – Chaos
September – Drag
October – Fragility
November – Refreshment
December – Illumination
ruption
(cor) ruption of thoughts
(dis) ruption of ideas
(e) ruption of actions
The Call to Stay Rooted
I’ve been wondering about writing something like this for a little while. I feel like there’s a growing amount of content being pushed out there into the world about living life as a twenty-something. So, I’m throwing my hat into the ring. I’m not sure if my words really add much depth or breadth to the thoughts of others but here we are.
Today I’m writing about staying rooted and the challenges that come with that.
Before I begin though I want to caveat with a few notices about myself. These are things that inform my words, providing a bit of context for where I’m at in the world:
- I’m 24 years-young. I’ve got a whole load of learning to do which I’m becoming acutely aware of (in a good way lol).
- I went to Glasgow University and graduated over two years’ ago. So much of the life I live is still considerably informed by that time.
- I’m a Christian and a lot of how I understand the world is through my stumbling, ever-evolving faith. (Yet, a lot of what I say might still resonate with you, even if you’re not coming from the same faith perspective.)
- Finally, I want to say that I am predominantly very content with my life. I don’t want the things I write or say to be misunderstood. I feel so blessed by: family, friends, my health, my job, the outdoors, the arts and much, much more.
But enough notices. On to the topic of today: staying rooted.
To give some context, when I graduated, I knew I wanted to stay in Glasgow. It’s a place where I’ve done a lot of growing up, made incredible pals and is full to the brim with creativity, activism and friendly people. So that’s what I’ve done. I’ve stayed.
And in the years since graduating many close pals have left, moving to other cities (and countries), sometimes out of choice, sometimes not. For many of these friends, it’s not been easy. Settling in to new (or old) routines, rhythms and social circles is hard and I massively respect them for it!
In the middle of these changes, I’ve done a whole lot of praying, asking God for direction. Questions like: where should I be? What should I be pouring my energy into? What opportunities should I be searching for? And in the noisiness of these questions, I’ve so far not felt any sort of nudge to leave Glasgow. (But I did recently feel strongly led to move to the east end and get involved in the community here. I’m honestly not sure how long I’ll live here for but it won’t be forever I’m pretty sure.)
Right now, I feel called to stay put and this has its benefits. I know others and am known at a deep level. Places are familiar and you grow into new spaces too (I’ve loved learning more about the public transport system in Glasgow haha). There are roots here. All of these things are significant and life-giving.
But staying rooted also brings challenges. It’s only recently that I’ve found ways of clarifying and articulating what these are:
- Firstly, gaps appear in your life from where people used to occupy them. I imagine it like a boat that gets a few holes in it. It can feel like you’re sinking a little, as though you need to put stoppers in them all.
- Differences develop between those that you know who are left in the same city – people move in with their other halves, buy properties, get pets, make new circles of friends. (While I was at uni, the field felt fairly level but now it sometimes feels bumpy.)
- You can feel like you’re missing out on some exciting new life you could be living somewhere else – the grass seems consistently greener. (This is especially hard when I travel a lot and get to see cool places or visit pals in their new cities.)
I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I feel called to stay rooted to where I am and who I am surrounded by. This, at times, feels hard. Rootedness requires commitment. Commitment requires obedience. Obedience requires discipline and patience.
I think we are called to stay rooted and present, even if we’re unsure about how long we might stay in a place. (This can feel particularly hard being a twenty-something when everything can feel unmoored or shifting.) But I’m willing to give it a go. I’m willing to commit, to obey, to be patient with myself.
My hope is that I can match this rootedness with openness. I want both to work in tandem with one another. For, ultimately, I want to be open to living, being and changing wherever God leads me.