On gentleness

January calls for a calmer kindness.

This week began with a full tank of optimism—this January would be calm, I told myself. By Friday, I was uncomfortably in the red: deflated, exhausted, teary. Old habits, as they say, are hard to break. Still, I refuse to be deterred. A weekend is an opportunity to ground yourself, to pull things back. So, I’ve had an incredibly textbook gentle weekend. After all, this is the month of rest.

We say certain words so often they lose their weight. What does it mean to be gentle? To move slowly, to avoid breaking things? Yes, but it’s also much more than that—and those meanings can be uniquely yours, part of your own quiet vocabulary.

For me, being gentle looks like this:

• Good socks: Cashmere socks, warmed on the radiator before slipping them on.

• Watching the birds: Staying perfectly still and observing them, noticing their oddly human personality traits. Listening to their songs and wondering how something so small can make such a sound. Feeding them, too, obviously.

• Writing feelings: Journaling, mostly. But on the days when words fail me, simply writing feelings. There’s no one grading your journal—it’s okay to scribble if that’s what your brain feels like.

• Songs without words: Words can be distracting. Sometimes you just need noise—jazz cafe, anything that hums in the background.

• A perfect cup of tea: With a biscuit. Sipped slowly, staring out of the window, letting observation take the lead.

• Post-shower stillness: Lying on the bed in a towel, moisturised, reading a book. No guilt, no rush to get ready.

• Changing your vocabulary: Replacing I should with I would like to. January demands a certain kindness with your time.

What does gentle mean to you?

Hopefully, you enjoyed this post, if you did I would be eternally grateful if you would share/restack so I can reach more people like you ♥️

Have a lovely day, Allie ☁︎

P.s. you can get 20% off paid subscriptions to A Very Good Day (for life) with the annual option until 31st January.