The Quiet Hours: A Slow Start to the Year
Hello, friends.
I’m writing this on a quiet, January morning. The final moments of last year have now slipped away. Outside, there is a sprinkling of frost on the ground, a chill in the air, but the sky overhead is cloudless. In the bare tree outside, birds are singing. The world is muted, as if it’s still deciding whether it wants to wake up. I’ve poured beans into the coffee machine and brewed a fresh cup, wrapped myself up in a soft blanket. I too, am still sleepy, but it’s a satisyfing lull. Before I can start looking at emails and to-do lists, taking down the tree and returning to work, I want to lean into this restfulness.
There’s something comforting about this pause, these liminal days between Christmas and going back to work (I work at a university, so my break is slightly longer this side of the new year). The calendar may say a new year has begun, but time itself moves in the same, steady rhythm. This boundary doesn’t really exist, I know, it’s imaginary. We don’t start a new year over and change overnight, and there’s nothing truly that marks this threshold as different to any other day. Still, I like the symbolism of January first: a tiny reset, a blank page, a chance to imagine and hold fresh possibilities and reinventions in your head, to meet the year like a guest in your own home.
I’ve spent the past few days just relaxing. Eating when I want to, taking time with cooking meals. I’ve started taking books off my shelves and sorting them into piles, and for the first time in my life I’m deciding to let go of the books I’m never going to read. I want to curate my shelves, to keep what I love and the books I feel say something about me. And those old books will be donated, leading the way for blank spaces in my shelves, spaces where new books will go. And of course, I have already started filling those gaps.
I bought an embosser, with the intention of making my shelves my own little library. Everything is still a chaotic mess, towers of books all over the floor. But for once I’m comfortable with the disorder. I don’t need to sort things this instant, and the end result will be worth the wait.
And though I’ve bought (many) new books, I’ve been reading more deliberately recently, taking the time to savour lines and reflect on what I’m consuming. For the first time in a while, I’m reading what sounds interesting to me, rather than what social media is advising me to read.
I’ve also just enjoyed having a break. Revisiting old haunts and explored new ones. Me and my boyfriend went for a walk at the local deer park, went for ramen at a place that recently opened up in our old town. I went to the bookstore and took time enjoying looking through the shelves and tables, and I bought myself some other little luxuries afterwards.
I know, once I return to work, things will get hectic again. I’ll stop savouring things quite as much, stop taking as much pleasure in little things. But, while I’m not one for New Years Resolutions, I have decided on a few small things I’d like to implement this year. One of those is to lean into this slowness more: to cultivate my time and enjoy quiet mornings, to just enjoy my coffee rather than letting my brain wander to what comes next, to walk with no destination in mind, and to cook meals that take time and attention because it makes me happy. I can’t completely escape the rush and hectic nature of life, but I can try to let small actions shape my days.
There is beauty in the ordinary, in the quiet rituals we often overlook.
Which leads me to my second “side-quest”. I want to look after myself more, and treat myself with more kindness moving forwards. Like many people, I struggle with perfectionism, with self-esteem, with body confidence, with comparison. I’d like to step away from that a bit this year. That doesn’t mean hitting the gym every day, or anything as rigid as that, it just means giving myself a pat on the back for making the effort. It also means giving myself permission to sometimes stay in bed on cold, dark mornings, to enjoy the warmth of the duvet rather than dragging myself out to meet x amount of workouts a week. It means buying myself that new coat, or taking a few minutes to do a skincare routine before bed. It means indulging in fancy coffee and cheese, in new books and games. It means not blaming myself when things don’t go according to plan.
I feel like I’ve waffled on enough for now, so here’s to 2026: not a race or a checklist, but a series of slow, deliberate steps. This post is just the beginning of what I hope these The Quiet Hours posts will be- a place to slow down and look around, and notice the little things. I’m hoping to share reflections like this one, and small rituals that make life feel cosier.
I’m also hoping to include some reading vlogs, so think of this as an invitation almost. In the future, this space will be a place to read, reflect and wander at your own pace. A reminder that life is often richest in its simplest, unhurried moments.
