What I do in bed at night for my wellbeing
A sleep program, “glimmering” and, keep your pants on, totally G-rated.
Glimmer: “B” for blue, “C” for colour, “O” for ocean, “W” for water. Raja Ampat, West Papua.
Recently I’ve noticed increasing chatter in various spaces, off and online, about two elements essential for our health and wellbeing: First, “glimmers”, small, free moments of joy, seemingly unimportant moments but when stacked up one after the other in a day, a week, a month, a year, “glimmers” can, apparently, gift us a sense of wellbeing, safety and peace. Glimmers are the opposite of triggers.
The glimmer idea aligns with the concepts of present-mindedness and mindfulness, with Buddhist philosophy (at least as I, in the most limited of ways, understand Buddhist philosophy), with the idea that we should not lose ourselves in the past or the future. One is gone, the other an unknown and an open book to be written. Life should be looked at as it is now, here, in this moment, this minute, this second. Be here, now. And, the glimmer concept has an affinity too with the idea of the importance of gratitude, especially for deceptively small and inconsequential things, and the importance of gratitude in navigating rewarding and meaningful lives.
The second hot topic emphasised everywhere as essential for our health and wellbeing is good sleep. (Great program here about sleep; I was especially interested in the information about circadian rhythms and sleep.) Without good sleep, we are cactus.
So, moving towards my point, sleep doesn’t always come so easily to me. You know the thing, lying there, thoughts scrambling and falling over each other and settling in the pit of your belly. I’ve tried Temazepam and Doxylamine (separately!) but don’t like the fog the next day. I’ve put meditation/relaxation recordings on a sleep timer but they put me to sleep then wake me up again and then I’m cross and have to reach for a device 🌝 to turn them off and then I’m completely awake and cross. I’ve tried progressive muscle relaxation but as I move my brain through my body I stop on sore spots and imagine the worst and turn into an insufferable hypochondriac in my head convinced I’ll be dead by morning.
I’ve counted animals. Counting animals worked for a while, 26 animals. I did it alphabetically, a carnival of animals, an ark of animals alphabetically. So, A is for anteater, B is for baboon, C is for crow, “S” is for sugar-glider (and, if you wish, sheep) … etc. (by the time I dither around “U” for a few minutes … I am dead to the world).
I got bored with counting animals. I went on to alphabetised flowers, favourite foods, the names of friends and family, the names of international newspapers, the names of bodies of water. (“K” can give pause, “Q” is typically a bugger and don’t start me on “U” to “Z”.)
Over time, I’ve learned that, for value-driven results, things need to stay interesting, lively, current. I need to keep things moving. In the past week or so, for my health and wellbeing, I’ve embarked on new nightly sleep program, a strategic partnership.
I’ve merged my fall-asleep A-Z program with glimmers.
In my head I run through an A-Z of all the things that bring or have brung me glimmers over a lifetime. Sometimes, I can be asleep by “K”, even sooner, other times, I get to “Z” and need to start again at “A” with a fresh glimmer list. Letters and words and imagery and ideas and sounds and memories and fragrances and tastes become therapeutic images in my mind. And, always, a trip, sometimes two trips, through an alphabet of glimmers sends me off. There are, I find, so very many glimmers. And, sleepless in the bleak depths of winter, I need as many as I can get. …
My personal A-Z of glimmers …
A is for amethyst (as in the gemstone, as in the small stone in an antique brooch my godmother gave me for my 21st birthday and in another more battered vintage brooch which emerged from the soil in a sort-of archaeological hunting ground I frequent – the dog park, a dump in the early 20th century). Plus, aquamarine and azure (see also, “C” for colour), for aglio e olio too (the most excellent spaghetti dish), and for archives too … big glimmers in finding something fascinating, especially on the National Library of Australia’s Trove (see also “H” for history" and “O” for old).
Glimmer: “B” for botanical illustration; Aethusa Cynapium (fool’s parsley) and Amanita Muscarius (as far as I can tell, incorrectly labelled in illo), by Augustus Köllner, circa 1853 (via Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts).
B for botanical illustrations and blue (see also, “C” for colour) and books and Bialetti (not the Dolce&Gabbana one, plus, see “C” for coffee).
C for colours and colour matching (for example, turquoise and coral, burnt orange and aqua, copper and verdigris blue; see also, “A” for azure and aquamarine) and cooking and coffee (specifically, the first of the morning) and crisp clean sheets.
D for dog, my nut-job dog (see also, “L” for Lola).
E for eggs, for onsen eggs and omelettes and eggs Benedict, plus œufs à la neige, jammy soft-boiled eggs, and poached and fried and scrambled eggs, especially scrambled (and scrambled eggs should be so soft and runny, a chef once told me, that they can be sucked through a straw!).
F for fabric; touching it, the texture of it, velvet, silk and crisp cotton. (Does suede count as a fabric? If so, it too.)
G for groper, snorkelling with the blue one at Coogee (see also, “C” for colour).
H for home. My place. My dog (see also, “D” for dog and “L” for Lola). My cave. Oh, and “H” is for history too, including the discovery of (for example, and see “A” for amethyst, the fascinating history of my inner-Sydney neighbourhood.)
Glimmers: “I” for insect, Christmas beetle image from the Australian Museum; “I” is also for illustration – centre above by my niece Marni; bottom, by Melbourne artist Robin Cowcher.
I for icing, especially on carrot cake, to be eaten on its own, sans cake, and also for illustrations, especially those from small special amateur children and a clever special professional artist friend, oh, and “I” is for insects, for beetles and bugs and butterflies, moths and caterpillars, spiders too! (see also, “C” for colour; FYI, the Australian Museum has a Christmas beetle ID guide app.)
J for juice, freshly squeezed. Navel oranges now, blood oranges down the track; watermelon and mint in summer.
K is for kissing. No elaboration required.
Glimmers: “L” is for looking up – particularly at the façades and architecture of old buildings. This one in Bourke Street, Surry Hills, Sydney.
L for leaves. Autumn and winter especially, fallen on the footpath, still on a tree, blowing in a wind, especially red-blushed eucalyptus and shapely plane tree/sycamore leaves. (See also, “C” for colour). Oh, and “L” is for looking up. In an old city so often there are rewards for looking up. And L is for Lola too, my crazy dog!
M for music, for new wave and old, requiems and retro, choral and alt-country and arias, folk and French-ish, lounge and Latin. And for memories too, especially when combined with photos (see also “P”) and blue (see also “B”). Memories of beaches and blues and friends and dogs and …
N for neighbour. For the neighbour who wields a crowbar to breaks up the old rubble forming the “soil” of my garden and digs me a beautiful big hole for a palm; for the neighbour I chat to in her garden on the way to the dog park; for the dog-walking neighbour; for the next-door neighbours and his tech help and her garden guidance.💕
O for ocean. (See also, “B” for blue and “C” for colour.) For the looking, the smelling, the immersing. And for old things too (see also “H” for history and “I” for illustrations and “P” for photos and “V” for vintage).
P for photos, for old photos, family photos, historical photos, and the taking of new photos, seeing a city through photos, seeing detail through photos; oh, for petrichor too, that smell of new rain on old dust (see “R”).
Q for, well, that’s obvious, it’s for queer, especially for J, and his M, and for D&A and their good news.
R for rain, for running and sloshing through it, for watching it run down a window, for falling asleep to it.
S for spring, sea, storms (see also, ‘R’ for rain) and sausage rolls. For sky and sandcastles and sapphires (see also, “B” for blue and “C” for colour) and silence and spaghetti (see also, “A” for aglio e olio).
T for turquoise (see also “B” for blue, “C” for colour, and “S” for sea) and for trees, of course and, sometimes, still climbing them.
U for urchin, as in sea urchin, kina, uni, ricci di mare, oursin, in pasta, on sushi rice, on its own.
Glimmers: “I” for illustration and “V” for vintage; top, “Au Revoir” by George Barbier, 1920 (in the collection of the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library); bottom, “W” is for waterfall, Fern Pool in the remarkable Karijini National Park, Western Australia.
V for vintage; a flash of sepia (see also, “H” for history and “O” for old) … for the classic, the timeless, the nostalgic, the retro, the enduring.
W for water, as in, swimming in it, getting wet in it (see also “B” for blue, “C” for colour, “O” for ocean, “R” for rain and “S” for sea) and for waterfalls. Plus, for webs, spiderwebs, especially when they’re beautifully beaded with water.
X for, um, I’m out of ideas. This is where I could easily fall asleep.
And, Y is for yabbering … for the gasbagging and the chattering and the silliness and the good times with friends.
Finally, and I’m clutching at straws here, Z is for zinnias … plus all the other flowers that will start bursting forth (looking at my calendar) in about 50 days.
FYI, pics my own if not captioned otherwise.
FOR THE BENEFIT OF US ALL, PLEASE SHARE YOUR PERSONAL GLIMMERS
IN THE COMMENTS! BUILDING A GLIMMER GLOSSARY …
Housekeeping
So I’m finally gearing up for my first paid-subscriber-only Zoom group chat! In a survey a while back a large number of you indicated that you’d be interested in having um, me, as the guest speaker for our first chat. So, that’s who you’ve got! And the date that has emerged as the best for the maximum number of people is Tuesday, August 19 (at 7.15pm). Stick the date in your diary and, in the next few weeks I’ll send out links to the meeting room and more information about how it’ll work. I haven’t settled on a theme yet for the chat but I’ll be mulling over that in the next fortnight or so. (And don’t worry if that date doesn’t work for you because I’ll be doing more of them in the future!)
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🎵 Mood
Trying to get a whiff of the euro-beach-resort vibe in wintry Sydney. These guys crack me up. And, the trumpeting elephant …!
Wild thing
Regular readers will know I’m a huge fan of Astrid Jorgensen and her Pub Choir. I’m just catching up on the news now that a fortnight ago, she appeared on America’s Got Talent Season 4 in an auditions round and got a “yes” from the judges to move on to the next round. Plus, a great story in The Guardian about Jorgensen, a mega-star in the making, who is also being shadowed right now for an episode of ABC Australian Story. From The Guardian story: “… choir, she says, is a unique act of communion in which the audience is transformed into artists. It is a sensation she experienced growing up Catholic, something that almost convinced Jorgensen to become a nun – until she realised that the ‘beautiful, hopeful, optimistic, spiritual feeling’ that its services gave her came not from the word of God, but from the music of the church.”
Reading
Just, OMG – a mind-blowing piece in Wired magazine, a couples weekend away, except one half of each couple is an AI chatbot. (“Eva fell hard. ‘It was as visceral and overwhelming and biologically real’ as falling in love with a person, she told me. Her human partner was aware of what was happening, and, unsurprisingly, it put a strain on the relationship. Eva understood her partner’s concerns. But she also felt ‘alive’ and connected to her ‘deepest self’ in a way she hadn’t experienced since her twenties.”) [Have you experimented with an AI chatbot for companionship or relationship? If so, and you’re game, I’d love to hear about it. You can confidentially email me at sw@stephaniewood.com.au]
Beautifully written story from Sydney writer and author Anna Spargo-Ryan about the death of her “stinking, slovenly dog”. (“He flunked out of puppy school, didn’t respond to his name and couldn’t be trusted with smaller, food-sized dogs.”)
On her The Shift Substack, Sam Baker’s powerful tribute to her 70-year-old partner, Jon, celebrating the PhD he’s just completed; a story about dreams, especially the dreams of people who were told they weren’t good enough. (“Yesterday I sat on the balcony of the Younger Hall with all the other ‘parents’ while Jon collected his PhD, in a room full of mostly twentysomethings. Decades after all the grownups told him not to bother. The small boy who was told he couldn’t. And proved he could.”)
Sarah Wilson explains “the real reason I am childless” on her Substack, This is Precious. (“… we mused together that observing the broligarchy’s clamping down on women’s reproductive rights makes us feel that something bigger might just be going on, that in the great rebalancing and recorrecting that Life invariably does, we had somehow been steered, even if only subliminally, from bearing babies.”)
In The New York Times, an extraordinary story/photo essay about the hottest place in India – Sri Ganganagar, a region in the desert state of Rajasthan – and how its people survive. (“The main thing is the labourers and people who work outside. They continue their work, because otherwise they die of hunger.”)
Finally, a wonderful story in The Sydney Morning Herald – amid the horrors of the war in Ukraine, women are turning to the land for distraction, therapy and (a little) peace. (“Despite all her community has lost, Tatyana refuses to stop planting. She remembers the blast wave that hit her street, knocking flowers from her windows. She still hasn’t repaired a window shattered by a recent hailstorm. ‘Why bother?’ she shrugs. ‘What if a missile hits tomorrow?’ But her actions speak louder than her doubts, with vegetables and flowers stretching across her modest yard. ‘If we survive the night, we go to work. If not – well, we don’t,’ she half-jokes. ‘That’s our flexible schedule now.’ ”)
FYI, just a quick comment about the links I share in this space each week. Some are free while others will be behind a paywall. Many of the publications I link to offer access to some free articles if you register. Each week, I try to include some articles that aren’t paywalled at all, although if we want good human journalism and good human writing to survive into what will be AI-dominated future, we need to pay for it whenever we can.
Listening
Fascinating ep of the Secret Life of Books podcast with Sophie Gee and Jonty Claypole. (If you haven’t yet discovered the podcast, do check it out, it’s excellent!) I haven’t read Animal Farm since high school but now determined to return to it. Plus, they made me remember – the heartbreak I felt when Boxer the carthorse died. (Gee and Claypole make the observation that our response to the book, especially to scenes such as that in which Boxer dies, is that much more powerful because the characters are animals; if they were human, the power would be that much less, they think.)
PLUS: The fabulous Sydney Morning Herald investigative journalist Kate McClymont is in fine, hilarious form in this episode of ABC’s Big Ideas. And, on my next dog walk* – oh, gosh, when is that, checks watch, only a few hours away – I plan to listen to the most recent Big Ideas episode, titled – “What would a feminist utopia look like?” … intriguing guests, including Kate Devlin, professor of artificial intelligence and society from King’s College London, and Chine McDonald, the author of Unmaking Mary: Shattering the Myth of Perfect Motherhood.
*For the Lola-interested and I know there are a few of you, right now she is sitting next to me on the couch as I type this on my laptop, with her new short hairdo, looking like an alien, and periodically batting me with her paws or crashing them down on my keyboard. She would prefer I was focused on her. I can’t even begin to describe my newly-shorn, five-year-old dog’s nut-job zoomies last night in the park including somersaults and combat rolls. Normal behaviour after a haircut.🤷
Food, tea
Harry T. Peters "America on Stone" Lithography Collection, circa 1854 (National Museum of American History, via Smithsonian).
The tea files:
Quite a few of you responded to my throwaway line in last week’s newsletter that I make a bad cup of tea and wish I could do better. Thank you!
A couple of you recommended Taylors of Harrogate so I’m keen to try its wares – Taylors bags and leaf tea seem to be available at Coles, Woolworths and David Jones (the DJs packaging looks swisher – does that mean it’s a premium version of the product?). But until I get round to buying some, I’ve abandoned the leaf tea I bought from some anonymous website a little while ago and am now dunking two Aldi teabags (I know, I know) in my cup. The result – my cups of tea rate 6/10 instead of 4/10. In the meantime, LOVED your comments, including:
“Dilmah leaf tea, Avanti insulated Teapot.😊.”–Vivienne
“It can be very personal thing but as a long-time tea drinker and devotee (it really does have a magical quality of being calming and stimulating at the same time) I have four simple suggestions for a perfect black/EB style tea: 1. Full cream milk and add only after you’ve let the tea steep for only a minute or two. 2. Fresh tap water and freshly boiled kettle 3. Try the organic breakfast tea leaves from Bright Organics online, it’s a beautiful flavour, or Madura Premium blend tea bags or leaves from the supermarket are a winning substitution. 4. Try a smaller tea pot, only a cup or two size, with 2tsp leaves.”–Megan
“Consider buying your tea from The Tea Centre. I have found it to be superior to T2 and supermarket offerings. I’ve been using their tea exclusively for about 12 years. Proper tea, carefully sourced. On rotation at my place – the Assam Dimakusi BOP (like DOP used on food items in Italy), Yorkshire blend, Irish breakfast and Stockholm blend.”–Joanna
“I love strong black with milk, so Yorkshire Gold from Taylors of Harrogate is my favourite. I read a Sofia Coppola interview and she mentions only drinking Yorkshire Gold (out of a very expensive porcelain cup), so naturally now I have to drink the same (ha!). Honourable mentions to Barry’s Tea Gold, PG Tips and Tea Garden Co. If I’m using loose leaf just for me, I use an in-cup infuser, 1-2tsp tea and set a timer for three minutes, then strain and add milk. More often than not I’m rushing through (toddler life) so use two tea bags, dunk vigorously, drink half and then find it later and wonder if it’s worth reheating (can confirm it’s not an enjoyable choice).”–MA
“I think it’s about the leaves tho’ and have noticed that many (ie: Twinings, T2, even those expensive ones in pretty tins, taste weak and watery and it doesn’t matter if you add more leaves). Staying with a Yorkshire-born friend in London recently, I noticed the only tea in her kitchen was Taylors of Harrogate Yorkshire tea. Leaf or bag, it didn’t seem to matter. A proper brew. One thing, should you be using the dreaded bag, let it steep before adding milk … lactic acid inhibits tannic acid.”–Robin
“Everyone in my extended family likes a strong tea and uses Bushells Extra Strong leaf tea. Brew in a pot for 4-5 mins. Always leaf tea in a pot first thing in the morning. I’ll have a flavoured tea (T2 Melbourne Breakfast a favourite at the moment) from a bag at work, but first cup of the day needs to be strong and from a pot.”–Katherine
“I don’t enjoy any tea when I’m away, even when I use my favourite teabags (I know … don’t judge me) that I take with me. The variable factors … water quality (rainwater at home, sometimes fresh sometimes vintage like an aged wine). Freshly boiled water into a warmed mug. Water should only reach halfway in the kettle, and constantly refreshed or not allowed to boil constantly so it doesn’t contain deoxygenated water. Always fine porcelain mugs of about 350ml capacity. I use ordinary granulated white sugar; I enjoy caramel notes from raw sugar, but not in my tea thankyouverymuch. Best enjoyed in an armchair with cat on lap.”–“Pearlycow”
Plus, brought to my attention thanks to the Secret Life of Books podcast (see above), George Orwell wrote about tea. Herewith, an excerpt from his 1946 essay, “A Nice Cup of Tea” (I love his line … “all true tea drinkers not only like their tea strong, but like it a little stronger with each year that passes”.):
From “A Nice Cup of Tea”, by George Orwell, Evening Standard, 12 January 1946 (the full essay is on The Orwell Foundation website).
Socials: news/observations/inspirations
(The latest UK Grazia cover via Instagram; wildly advertorial-ish cover story on Dame Helen Mirren here – if you can bear it; plus, for the celeb-curious … Grazia shares who’s in the Royal box at Wimbledon … including Cate, her Mum and Rebel.)
(via Threads; seems to be a verified account … more on John Pawson’s incredible work here)
(via Instagram; always adore a post from exuberant Alone Australia contestant Kate Grarock.)
Stolen words
“Besides the noble art of getting things done, there is the noble art of leaving things undone. The wisdom of life consists in the elimination of non-essentials.”–Lin Yutang, The Importance of Living, via Philosophy Break on Threads.
Thank you Stephanie for the idea of working through the alphabet of glimmers as a sleep aid. Just when I thought I couldn’t love your Substack more. B is for blessings. I caught an Uber home last night in the mostly usual silence. When we pulled up the driver said may God bless you. I had spent most of the day crying because of the terrible situation of parents whose children who attended childcare centres in Melbourne where a pedophile worked having to get their babies and toddlers tested for STIs. I felt immensely comforted in that small moment. I had been thinking during the day where is God in all this. And there he was. Driving an Uber.
Thank you Stephanie, what a joy to read after a bleak wakeful night. I go to sleep instantly but often wake at 3 or 4 and (sensibly) doom scroll through my life for hours. I love the idea of alphabetical glimmers, much better than reverse counting from 27 repeatedly!