Yesterday afternoon, I walked through Kirstenbosch Gardens with a dear friend, marveling at the way the sunshine through the leaves dappled the light and how a tree had octopussed its way around another one, breathing in the green-scented air and delighting in the birdsong, and talking about AI.

I actually love how much people are talking about AI. I think it shows that we are really grappling with how to make this new extraordinary potential work for us and with us - and how not to. And it’s the ‘how not to’ that I think is most important…

Like many, I am sick to death of ugly AI imagery and bad AI writing. So many words, grammatically well placed, signifying… nothing. I’ll read a paragraph and literally not be able to tell you what it actually means. It’s like reaching out to hold a teacup, only to find it was a hologram all along.

Finding your way through the unknown

I confess that my initial impulse was to ostrich through the whole AI thing (which, in retrospect, is rather cute - ‘the whole AI thing’, as if it isn’t interwoven into our lives from now until forever!) I believe in handwriting and a paper diary and I am by no means an early adopter.

And yet. There are marvelous things that can be done if you work with AI, rather than just handing over your problems and sitting back waiting for it to fix them.

Where I’ve landed, for now, is the question of how many human fingerprints are on it, (whatever ‘it’ is)? If you fed in a prompt and AI regurgitated a thing and you posted the regurgitation, no thank you. But if there has been real thought and play and sparring to get to where you end up, let’s talk about it… I’m curious how you are being helped, and pushed, and challenged.

I have just finished work on Sweet Life’s annual printed book: this time about Diabetes & Mental Health. I sat with a psychologist living with diabetes and working alongside people with diabetes, and interviewed him for a few hours (in person). I wrote up his answers into articles, along with other research, which he then checked (as a human). I sent it off to a human copy-editor to not only check my grammar but also double-check my thinking and sensitivity (a meeting of minds). And now it’s with a designer, also living with diabetes, to create the end product. AI has been used at each of these stages in some form or another, but there are also so many lived experience human fingerprints on it, and I love that.

Will I look back at this as quaint, in years to come? I don’t know.

With that in mind, here’s this week’s slice of joy:

A really good hug

You know one of those hugs where you’re reminded how great it is to be human? Where you slot into each together, equally supported, and there’s an exchange of feel-good vibes that make you feel better, even though you didn’t even really know how much you needed them?

Similar glimmers:

• A pair of shoes that fit so well you almost forget you’re wearing shoes.

• A couch that perfectly supports you.

I love a good plan. I spend a fairly painful day at the beginning of each year setting up intentional friend dates with my most loved ones: walks or lunches or dinners in the diary for the whole year so that I know I’m guaranteed to see them. (This is more impressive when you learn I have a paper diary!)

But I’ve noticed something lately, and I’m curious if you have too? Plans will change, or some set situation will alter in a way I hadn’t foreseen, and it just kind of… works out. Better than works out, often - it ends up being better than the previous situation.

Is this because as humans we are intentional meaning makers, so I’m ascribing positive meaning to the way things work out? Or is it that my initial plans are inherently flawed? Either way, I’ve now decided to lean in when things change and recognize that in the future I’ll have decided it’s for the best (so there’s no point worrying about it now). Some days this is easier to do than others.

The stories that bind us

I’ve been working on a new project (that I’m not quite ready to expose to the light yet) but a key part of it has been talking to all kinds of different people, and hearing their stories… often painful, difficult stories. There is something so beautiful in sharing these stories out loud: they remind us of our humanity, and our shared grace, and it feels like a real honour to bear witness to them.

In that vein, here’s this month’s slice of joy…

A ritualistic cup of tea

Whether it’s a cup of tea and a slice of chocolate babka (yes please and thank you!) or a cup of tea at a birthday tea party, or a cup of tea while you catch up with a friend, or even a cup of tea that cools because you’re too busy talking to sip it, I love nothing more than sharing a cuppa with someone.

Similar glimmers:

• Shared awe in a spectacular sunset.

• A champagne toast.

I’ve been thinking a lot, these past few weeks, about how grief and joy are two sides of the same coin. And about the overwhelming power of kindness.

I’ve started working on a new project, and it has me filled with the kind of creative energy I love the most - where I’m making connections and grasping words out of thin air and knitting them all together in a private document only I can see. (Is this my favourite part of the creative process? Probably!)

As part of this project, I’ve been speaking to different people about different kinds of loss: their specific, personal, unique experiences of loss. No matter how varied the loss, two things seem to emerge: the necessity of tiny moments of joy (sometimes really tiny, but enough to keep you afloat when otherwise the darkness would drown you), and the power of kindness.

Always be a little kinder than necessary

I love this phrase, and I think of it often. I wrote a blog post about it back in the days of real blogging (oh how I miss that!) - way back in 2017, in fact. It remains one of the most popular posts on my website, which I think is proof that humans are, at heart, a good species (proof enough for me, anyway!) And because I need constant reminders, I wrote another blog post about it in 2022 - Always (always!) be a little kinder than necessary.

The truth is that we have no idea what tiny hurts people are carrying around invisibly, and we all of us need a little kindness.

I think of the moments that stood out for me in really hard days - in the fresh days of grief, or after emergency surgery, or when we had just been given a terrible diagnosis. And all those moments are flavoured with kindness: a surprise bunch of flowers. A bag of basic groceries so I didn’t have to face the bright lights of shops. A home cooked treat. A readymade meal. Love made visible.

We are all doing our best

I truly believe this: that we are all doing our best. And, simultaneously, sometimes that best really sucks. Because the third thread that keeps coming up in these conversations I’m having is that some people let you down when you need them most… and all you can do is choose to be kind to yourself and let them go.

On that note, here’s this month’s slice of joy:

Dependable friends

You know the ones - you might not be in touch all that often, but when you need them they are there for you. There with a call or a message or food or hugs or whatever it is they decide you need right then (because they haven’t offered up the tepid, “let me know if you need anything.”)

Dependable friends are kindness brought to life.

Similar glimmers:

• Your favourite pair of socks: the perfect fit.

• A cup of tea or coffee at the exact right temperature.
  

PS: Want one minute of pure joy? Watch Bill Nighy deliver his best man speech in my favourite movie, About Time... There's a kindness thread.

I do not generally bother with Imposter Syndrome.

I work hard, I do my best, and my life is pretty evenly divided between CEO and Co-founder of Sweet Life (33.3%), author (33.3%) and mom/wife (33.3%), the last of which keeps me deeply humble because my kids are not impressed by the other 66.6%. At all.

But then along comes the Franschhoek Literary Festival last weekend and hoo-boy! So many authors! So many career writers! So many smart people who are so intellectual and have so many things to say.

I ran a 2 hour Glimmers Workshop (what a delight!) where we ate Smarties and naartjies and created our own glimmer rituals. I recorded a lovely podcast interview with Sarah Bullen about glimmers for the Pagecast podcast, and hung out in the Green Room with all the fancy authors. I spoke on a panel about finding a Better Way to live life with Richard Sutton and Zuraida Jardine. I met so many lovely writers and readers and drank cocktails with Penguin authors and wore sequins the whole weekend and it was a whirlwind weekend. But also: intimidating. Exhausting. Wildly over-stimulating.

The funny thing about writers (or just me?)

The funny thing about writers - or maybe just me? - is that I got into it because I am happiest sitting alone in my room, cup of tea at my elbow, warm fuzzy jersey on, typing away at my keyboard. The joy of writing is largely this part: making up worlds and words, drinking endless cups of tea, lighting a candle for distraction, entirely alone.

The other joy is sharing what you’ve written, of course, and having it connect with people. But the actual real-life connection with people is not my forte (at all!). Is it just me? Surely not…

Lucky for me, I get to practice again tomorrow! At the inaugural Constantia Literary Festival, where I’ll be in discussion with multiply-published author Paige Nick about fiction vs non-fiction, and then hosting a panel about how to get published. Please join us! Tickets are so cheap (R100 for adults, R50 for students), Exclusive Books is offering 15% off all books, there will be delicious food and drinks at the market, and a day full of book lovers. What fun!

With that, this week’s slice of joy…

Nerding out about something in good company

Before I had kids, a wise friend told me that you get to keep one hobby after you’ve had kids. Reading is mine: I read every day, regardless of what else life throws at me. Lying down reading is my absolute favourite thing. So to find other people who are as passionate about reading as I am is SUCH a treat. It doesn’t have to be books, of course, it can be whatever you love nerding out about (model aeroplanes, video games, cupcakes, you name it…) In a world full of sameness, finding your niche is pretty special.

Similar glimmers:

• Discovering a sandwich combination you know you will love forever (here’s looking at you, mature cheddar and gherkin).

• The perfect coat.

At 43, I am firmly in the middle of my life… Will I make it to 86? I think… maybe? Some days, while frolicking or immersed in the tiny joys of life, it seems ridiculous that I could be middle aged. Other days, while doing seemingly endless bank admin for my elderly father in between meeting deadlines, picking up kids from school and deciding what’s for dinner, I look around for the adult and the awful truth sinks in… It’s me. I’m the one filing taxes and following up and circling back. Middle age is real.

The power of celebration

Which is why it is so powerful to have a weekend like the one I had recently: devoted entirely and completely to celebration and fun. I officiated the wedding of dear friends, which felt so meaningful. It was in the most idyllic spot, right on the beach, and we spent the whole weekend swimming and chatting and eating and drinking and laughing so hard I thought I was going to pee my pants.

And then we danced. Oh, how we danced! For hours, till our feet hurt, with our hands in the air and fairy lights from the flower arrangements hung around us so that we glimmered on the dance floor. It was sheer joy, total fun, absolute celebration.

Part of this, of course, is the power of a wedding in our 40s: it is no longer strictly necessary (as necessary as weddings ever are) and thus so much more beautiful. Part of it is devoting time not to others or to work but to friends and fun. And part of it is remembering, I think… Remembering how fun it is to just let go.

With that in mind, here’s this week’s slice of joy:

Being surprised by a laugh

Someone says something unexpected and before you even know it, you’ve barked out a laugh. A wholehearted, full body cackle. The joy goes both ways: who doesn’t love an authentic laugh, and who doesn’t love to make someone authentically laugh?

Similar glimmers:

• A hug that fills a puzzle piece you didn’t know was empty.

• A book / TV show / movie that takes you by surprise in the best possible way.

PS:

Talking about weekends filled with joy, are you going to the Franschhoek Literary Festival next month? I’m doing a Glimmers Workshop and a panel about joy (both sold out, yay!) but I’d love to see you if you’re there.

I’m writing this from the Zurich airport, on my way home from a frankly fabulous week of adventure.

I began the week with 3 days of entirely solo travel - taking trains for day trips to Germany (Bäd Sackingen) and France (Colmar), and spending an entire day riding panoramic trains across Switzerland: from Basel to Luzern to Lungern to Interlaken to Spiez and back again. Just the most jaw-dropping landscapes and awe-inspiring views… Snow-capped mountains and bright blue lakes and wooden chalets and the greenest meadows you ever saw. Wow wow wow.

In search of adventure

It was easy to hunt out adventure because I was in a foreign city - even after the solo travel ended and the work part of my trip began, there were still new people to meet and stories to hear and walking adventures to be had. I stepped wholeheartedly out of my comfort zone, and I loved it! I feel filled up with adventure.

But I think it’s possible to bring a little of that spirit into everyday life, don’t you? Taking a different route to a familiar spot, walking instead of driving, taking time to explore the familiar unfamiliar… There is so much to discover if we’re open to it.

In that spirit, this week’s slice of joy…

Getting lost (and found again) in an unfamiliar place

You’ve got no idea where you are. None whatsoever. Totally lost. And then something looks just the tiniest bit familiar and suddenly you know exactly where you are and feel (momentarily) like a local.

Similar glimmers:

• Catching a train you thought you were going to miss.

• Having a very specific idea of what you feel like eating for lunch, and then eating it.

I don’t think of Past Me much, to be honest. I’m very kind to Future Me - I exercise and organise and shop and meal prep on her behalf a lot… But Past Me kind of gets forgotten.

That is, until the delightful Instagram trend of brands posting baby pics of their teams (Sweet Life happily took part!)

Look at this little sweetheart… Imagine what she’d think of me now! The little books I made in my bedroom are now internationally published. I do work that I deeply care about from my beautiful home. I’m a mom! I am so lucky. (Even on heat wave days when, to be honest, I feel hot and slightly overwhelmed and a little grumpy.)

Negative visualisation

It reminds me of the Stoic practice of negative visualisation (hear me out, it’s better than it sounds…) The idea is that for a minute or two every day, you reflect on what you care about most, and what it would be like if it were taken from you. Your health, your partner, your job, your home, your children. What would life be like? Just for a minute! And then when you return to the ordinary humdrum of life, you are filled with gratitude for what you already have.

In that vein, here’s this week’s slice of joy…

“All good!” in response to, “How are you?”

You haven’t seen a friend for a few weeks, and they ask how you are… Really ask, wanting an answer. In those rare and precious moments when you are able to honestly answer, “all good”, oh my! What a gift that is. Nobody you love is ill, nothing is on fire (except the global political situation), all is ordinary and peaceful. The greatest gift of all.

Similar glimmers:

• A meeting cancelled on a busy afternoon… Sweet relief!

• A tasty home-cooked meal.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot this week, inspired in part by the absolutely glorious ice skating of Alysa Liu. I’m sure you’ve seen it, but just in case you haven’t, here it is.

What I love about this performance is how easy she is in her body (while doing seemingly impossible things on the ice) and the pure joy she’s taking in what she’s capable of creating. What I love even more is her backstory: that she left the sport and then returned on her own terms. Wearing what she wanted. Choosing her music. Co-choreographing her routines. Pure creation.

Giving ourselves space to create

The view above is from my weekly walk on Chapman’s Peak in Hout Bay. How ridiculous?! How incredible. How foolish to forget how rare all of this is…

But also, surprisingly tricky to do, some weeks. When I have a lot of work to do, and the list is piling up, taking an hour out to go for a walk can seem like an ill use of time. When actually, I do some of my best thinking while walking. In fact, I use this walk as a campaign planning brainstorm every time Sweet Life launches a new campaign.

Life is so busy, and demands are so great — and seemingly urgent. Carving out time for ourselves to create, whatever that looks like and whether or not anyone will actually see it, is one of our most important tasks, I think.

With that, this week’s slice of joy…

Baking something that takes time

I love a quick recipe. Our family soda bread recipe comes together in less than 5 minutes and is a delight when slathered with butter, warm from the oven. But there’s something so satisfying about baking something that takes time… I’m currently baking my first ever loaf of sourdough without assistance (just using my husband’s recipe) and I have to fold it every 15 minutes for 2 hours. What a mission! What a joy.

Similar glimmers:

• A long, beautiful drive.

• Listening to a really long podcast, all the way through.

Apparently 80% of New Year’s Resolutions are discarded by mid-February… Round about now. How are you doing?

I generally only make one resolution, and choose a word for the year. The resolution is more of a habit I’d like to add into daily life, and this year’s one has been (unsurprisingly) an absolute joy. Mainly because it only takes 60 seconds.

I jump, every morning. Either 100 jumps or a 60 second dance video.

It is so ridiculous, and so fun.

Breaking the pattern

I think the very ridiculousness is why it works. It’s easy to get stuck in the same-old pattern: sitting during meetings, walking to and from the car, a certain heavy plodding predictability to our days. Jumping breaks that.

How do you do it, you might ask? You just jump. Up and down, or on one leg, or twisting your hips, or dancing like a loony. Really, however you want. Give it a go! I guarantee it will make you snort, if nothing else… (Here’s some inspiration if you need it!)

In that spirit, here’s this week’s slice of joy:

Consciously shutting down before the work is done

There’s just one more thing you want to do on your To Do List… But you don’t. Instead, you close your laptop, walk away from your computer and go outside. Or sit at the table and drink a quiet cup of tea. Or call a friend, or play with the kids, or bake something or do any of the many wonderful things available to us if we acknowledge that the To Do List is, in fact, never-ending and isn’t supposed to be finished today.

Similar glimmers:

• Watching a lunchtime episode of TV (feels so illicit!)

• Sleeping in on a weekday.

Getting clear on what you want

Picture this: it’s the first days of January, and we’re sipping sundowners on the banks of a lush, shady river in the Cederberg. It’s been a scorching hot day but now the heat is finally lifting, we’ve found some smooth rocks to perch on, and my brother and his husband are explaining to me how and why they visualise.

Like many others, I got caught up in the craze that was The Secret, so many years ago. Since then, I have visualised for specific things: I really wanted Daily Glimmers to be published, and imagined how I would feel when I heard the news, for example. But I didn’t have a visualising practice… Until now.

What my brothers helped me see is that visualising is really just focusing on what you want from all the many options on offer. Life is so abundant (aka overwhelming) that it’s hard to know where to focus your attention. Choosing one thing in each area (work / personal / health are my three) helps you get clear on what you really want.

And that is a wonderful thing! Even if all you do is tap into how lovely it will feel when you get to where you’re going (for a few minutes a day), how delightful!

I wonder what delightful things are going to happen to me today?

That’s my first thought every morning when I open my eyes: “I wonder what delightful things are going to happen to me today?” (Admittedly, if it’s a tough day ahead, sometimes my second thought is: “Nothing! Wah wah…”)

But you never know! And I think that’s what I like about this approach to visualising: it’s all in the spirit of curiosity. What lovely things might unfold if I focus my attention on what I really care about?

In that spirit, here’s this week’s slice of joy…

Eating the ugly frog

I finished a task this week that I had legit put off for 2 months. And oh! The satisfaction in finally eating that ugly frog… It was immense. (If you don’t know about ugly frogs, check this out.)

Similar glimmers:

• Finishing a course of antibiotics or other medication.

• Getting to the top of a steep hill.

A fresh start: a new year

Each year, I choose a word for the year. Something to use as a touchstone when things get busy, a reminder of my intention for the year, a guide for moments when I need some guidance.

This year my word is gentle.

Oh my goodness, doesn’t that feel like a relief?! No striving, no reaching, no knuckling down. Gentle.

So much easier to spot glimmers when you’re being gentle with yourself!

It reminds me of one of my favourite quotes:

Setting myself up for a year full of glimmers

There are a few other things I do that make it more likely that glimmers will surface. Feel free to use or discard any of these if you like!

• Intentional friend date planning

  I’m probably on my third or fourth year of doing this now, and I could not love it more. At the beginning of the year, I schedule in a year of dates / walks / lunches / dinners with my closest friends, so that my year is filled with guaranteed connection. The scheduling is a once-off pain, the dates are monthly joys.

• Blocking out exercise time as if it’s a meeting

  In a similar vein, my weekly Iyengar yoga and mountain walks are scheduled in my diary as if they’re meetings. We all know this: exercise can’t be negotiable.

• 100 jumps habit pairing
  My New Year’s Resolution is 100 jumps every morning! Sometimes to 60 second dance routines, sometimes just jumping up and down. It is very fun, and apparently fantastic for your health? I’ve habit paired it with taking my morning insulin (fun!)

• Aiming to be 5 minutes early
  Definitely a work in progress for me, but oh! The opportunities for joy that 5 minutes of space open up are wonderful…

Any tips to add?

Here’s wishing us all a beautifully gentle year, full of glimmers!
And here’s this week’s slice of joy…

The smell of green

Freshly cut grass. Earth exhaling after softly fallen rain. Trees exhaling. The best!

Similar glimmers:

• The freshly baked scent that hits you as you walk into a bakery.

• Just-washed sheets. One of life’s great pleasures!

There’s an understatement.

• Internationally published a book!

• Lost a close loved one to terminal cancer after walking the desperately sad journey alongside him.

• Made a real impact in the diabetes education space in South Africa!

• Had emergency surgery the week before World Diabetes Day

I could go on, but you get the picture… Life. Life is the picture: ups and downs and highs and lows and all the wonder and all the despair, all the time.

The one constant

The one constant, in my mind, is the beautiful ordinary. That first sip of tea in the morning. A hug from someone you love. A rainbow in a spray of water. Lying down reading. Shared rituals.

This time of year can be crazy and silly and fun in all the best ways, but it can also be hectic and exhausting and overwhelming. Both/and.

I would like to remind you (and me) to focus on the glimmers, in the midst of it all. The small moments of joy that lift your spirits, even for a few seconds. They are right there: all the time, no matter what.

Here’s this week’s slice of joy…

Secondhand magic

Even if you no longer believe in Santa, there is so much secondhand magic that can rub off on you this time of year… Just hang around younger kids, or Christmas trees with all their lights twinkling late at night, or take a walk around a neighbourhood that has gone all out with decorations, or even (imagine!) a shopping mall. Tinned Christmas carols on the speakers, spiced scents filling the air… There is magic to be found!

Similar glimmers:

• An afternoon catch-up with a friend that stretches out timelessly because you both have nowhere else to go.

• Waking up on your birthday morning (just me?)

PS: Haven’t finished your Christmas shopping?

Daily Glimmers makes an excellent gift for pretty much anyone. Just saying ;)

Last month I celebrated my 18th diaversary (diabetes anniversary). Which is wild, because I remember the day I was diagnosed with startling clarity.

I spent a week in ICU: desperately sick. I was 10kg underweight, constantly starving, so dehydrated my eyeballs were bulging, completely fatigued… and terrified. A chronic condition, at 25? Multiple injections, every day, for the rest of my life? How was that even possible?

I’m a writer, and a reader, so I read everything they gave me in the hospital. And all the pamphlets said the same thing: I was now at greater risk of blindness, amputation, heart disease, kidney failure. Nowhere in anything I read did it say I could live a perfectly happy, healthy life with diabetes - if I looked after myself.

Around (some of) the world with diabetes

Fast forward two years and my then-boyfriend, now-husband and I embarked on a six-month ‘Travelling with Diabetes’ trip around South East Asia and South America. Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Indonesia, Brazil and Argentina, with weekly video diaries, short ‘best moments of the day’ and long blog posts about the challenges and triumphs of travelling off the beaten track with diabetes. You can check out the YouTube library (and how ADORABLE we were 16 years ago!) here.

It was on that trip (while snorkelling off the Gili Islands in Indonesia) that we decided to start Sweet Life: a quarterly magazine distributed for free around South Africa, showing that it’s possible to live a positive life with diabetes.

14 years later…

Sweet Life is a non-profit and a Public Benefit Organisation with a single focus: to empower South Africans with diabetes through community and education.

We are South Africa’s largest online diabetes community, and our mission is empowerment: through expert, easy-to-understand diabetes and healthy living education, and a community to support and share lived experience.

What does that mean?

• It means launching the Sweet Life Chatbot, a WhatsApp-based diabetes education chatbot, and doing a nationwide in-person feedback drive to find out what works and what doesn’t work so we can iterate for an even more helpful tool.

• Creating foundational diabetes educational materials and distributing them nationwide - we’ve distributed more than 165,000 Healthy Food Guides to public clinics, hospitals, dieticians and support groups around the country.

• Writing an annual printed book and sending 10,000 copies to those who need it: The Sweet Life Cookbook last year (local, low cost, lower carb), the Diabetes Guidebook this year (with a specific focus on the basics to manage Type 2 diabetes).

• Crafting our website into a trusted diabetes Wikipedia in South Africa, with answers to all your diabetes questions (that are easy to understand).

• Running two major campaigns a year to raise diabetes awareness and dispel stigma: #DiabetesLooksLikeMe on 14th May, our diabetes stigma campaign, and #WearBlueforDiabetes on 14th November, our diabetes awareness campaign. This year, we distributed 100 Diabetes DIY Event Boxes around the country, to empower individuals to hold diabetes events in their own communities - wherever they might be.

• And it means checking in every day with our community. Sweet Life has become an online space to share all the many aspects of life with diabetes: exactly what I needed when I was diagnosed.

  

Our next adventure

I’ll keep this brief, because I have somehow waxed so lyrical about my work that this is excessively long! We’re officially launching our Patreon on #GivingTuesday next week, and I am so excited about it.

There are three tiers (starting at $5, about R100) and they each offer great benefits. More than that, each tier outlines exactly where your money will go: towards printing Healthy Food Guides to distribute as part of our Diabetes in schools project next year. Local diabetes advocates will share basic information with Grade 5 students about diabetes and healthy eating, so that we can empower the next generation and try to change South Africa’s worst statistic:

Diabetes is the number one killer of South Africans.

Together, we can make a real difference. Please check it out, and share, if you’re at all interested! www.patreon.com/SweetLifeDiabetes

Sweet Life on Patreon!

Which brings me to this week’s slice of joy…

Getting stuck into a project

It’s been on your To Do List for ages, but somehow you haven’t had the time or headspace to get started. And then you do! And it is such a joy to deep dive into this project and pull all the pieces together: like finally completing a puzzle that’s been gathering dust.

Similar glimmers:

• Inbox Zero: that mythical quest!

• Opening a new jar of something - such potential…

All year - in podcasts and articles and interviews - I have been dissing gratitude.

And for good reason! Gratitude is so often linked to toxic positivity. It doesn’t encourage you to be mindful in the moment, but rather desperately scribble down things you ‘should’ be grateful for at the end of the day. I have heard friends tell me truly awful stories and then feel obligated to end the story with a desperate, “But I know there’s so much I have to be grateful for!”

And yet.

I find myself suffused with gratitude at the moment. For the tiniest things that are, of course, not tiny at all.

• I’m not in pain. Not any pain, none, not at all. And that is just the most glorious thing in the world when so recently I couldn’t sleep longer than an hour and a half because the pain woke me up.

• This week I was able to walk in nature with friends again, and the trees and the pine-scented air and the mountain views and the natural abundance took my breath away (as did the hills, I haven’t walked in some time and I felt pretty puffed).

• Friends! I’ve had the energy and time to see my lovely friends, and they are beautiful things.

• Yoga! I made my way back to the mat for the first time since before the double whammy of grief and emergency surgery knocked me off course. I do iyengar yoga every week, and I could not love it more. What a joy to be back on the mat.

• The promise of a holiday on the horizon - right over there! Look! You can almost see it.

• My heart beating. My stomach digesting. My legs working. My brain thinking. All the autonomic parts of my body doing their thing (except my pancreas, but I’m used to that).

• My work. Getting to do what I can to empower South Africans with Diabetes during National Diabetes Month is an absolute thrill, and I am so grateful Sweet Life exists.

It has been an intense month and a half, and now the intensity has lifted and oh! I am doused in gratitude.

Enough energy for hope

I think what’s made the difference is that I finally have enough energy for hope. Grief sucked all the energy out of me, and once that lifted enough for me to start feeling slightly better, pain rolled right in. But now I’m on the mend - in my heart and my mind and my body - and I can see the light on the horizon.

It has given me huge empathy for those who don’t have hope, though. Terminal cancer. Chronic fatigue. All the other invisible illnesses people are living with, silently. Glimmers help, it’s true. I think they’re the only thing that helps, in fact….

With that, here’s this week’s slice of joy:

A dog wagging its tail so hard it turns into a full body wiggle

We’re looking after my brother’s dog Mila at the moment (the only dog I truly love) and she is so excited to see me every morning (and every time I come home) that she wags her tail so hard her whole body shimmies. If that’s not an expression of joy, I don’t know what is!

Similar glimmers:

• Someone’s eyes lighting up when they see you.

• A cat weaving in and out of your legs.

I had a dental phobia 20 years ago. It was sparked - legitimately - by a series of truly awful dentists.

The lovely old man who was our childhood dentist and didn’t tell us he’d developed Alzheimer’s until he eventually retired and we discovered our teeth were riddled with holes. The dentist-sadist who wouldn’t let me close my eyes and didn’t give me enough painkillers while doing a filling. The fat fingered dentist whose sausage fingers filled my mouth and made me want to choke.

So, in my twenties, I gave up on dentistry (this does not end well). Toothache eventually led me to a lovely male dentist to do a filling that was so enormous I listened to a 45 minute podcast while he was drilling. And then, when I birthed my children and didn’t lose my hair but had to have a root canal per child (despite taking all the calcium!) I found a lovely group of women in Salt River who were kind and gentle and believed in root canals over deep fillings (is this a good belief? I still don’t know).

And then, eventually, I found my dentist. We have been through fillings and a root canal and a crown replacement (real trauma) and I love her.

I also, if I am perfectly honest, try to get away with as little as possible. The kids and I have our teeth cleaned twice a year and she checks out our teeth then, but it’s not a proper dental exam with x-rays, and I only mention if something is bothering me once it’s a Grade A Worry (did someone say recovering from a phobia?)

My kids response to hearing I had to have emergency surgery was making a Lego scene of me surrounded by all my favourite things, including them.

The week that was

Fast forward to Friday. Intense pain in my lower jaw that I attributed to a TMJ flare-up (I’ve been grinding my teeth a lot lately) and treated with anti inflammatories and muscle relaxants for the weekend. Which means: I was in pain all weekend. My logic? The tooth wasn’t sensitive to cold! (Turns out totally dead teeth are not.) Monday morning revealed major swelling and two giant abscesses under my two molars. Emergency surgery under general anesthetic to remove the molars. So gross! Such sweet relief.

As a side bar: 20 years ago, mid-phobia, I ignored tooth pain until it formed an abscess and I needed a root canal. Then a crown. That crown has been giving me issues for years and my lovely dentist keeps suggesting we extract it and look at an implant.

But I can’t be a 43-year-old woman with missing teeth!! The horrors!

Except, now, I am. And I was in such pain that I welcomed them taking the teeth out. I feel lighter and happier and like a huge weight has been lifted from me. Vanity was stripped away by pain.

I suppose my point is that we fear things until we see the alternative, and now that I have seen what constant pain looks like I want no part in it. I’m not sure that my phobia has entirely lifted, but I can see the truth and beauty in the right treatment at the right time.

What about you - where do you fall on the dental scales? It seems as if people either have horror stories or are totally fine when it comes to their teeth, and I want to hear all of it!

Is there a glimmer in this week of pain and emergency surgery and recovery? Of course there is!

Here’s this week’s slice of joy:

The exact right food for the moment

Chicken soup when you’re feeling sick and achey. A big bowl of vanilla ice cream when you come out of surgery. Big ol’ slices of joy!

Similar glimmers:

- An icy cold (preferable fizzy!) drink when you’re hot and thirsty.

- Putting on an extra layer just as you get cold.

I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising that Real Life, in person events are so wonderful and yet, somehow, it is (to me). I think it’s because I have so wholeheartedly embraced remote working — I love working from home! I never loved an office! Why would anyone want to have to shlep somewhere to do something in person that could be more easily done online?

And yet. Gather a group of people with a common interest together in a room and *magic* can happen. I felt it at my London and Cape Town book launches, and I look forward to feeling it at the Glimmers Workshop I’m holding tomorrow, at Exclusive Books Constantia, at 11am (you’re invited!)

There’s something so delightful about chatting and laughing and figuring out how to find more daily glimmers in everyday life when the person is right in front of you… But it’s not only glimmers related. Any time Sweet Life runs an in-person event it feels like we’ve cooked up something glorious. People with diabetes! In the same space together! Chatting without screens! Wonderful. (We’re holding a picnic on Saturday 15th November for anyone who is keen.)

Our shared humanity

I think it’s because, while we have all been trained to communicate through screens very successfully, we are still, in essence, humans. We like to relate person to person. Even for those (like me) who prefer silence and solitude and are happiest when curled up with a book, there is something so fun about meeting face to face.

The next month holds a lot of that for me, with the Glimmers Workshop and the Sweet Life Picnic and the Diabetes Summit in Joburg. No doubt when I get to the other side, all my glimmers will be about being home and not having to chitchat, but for now I am relishing the opportunity to make magic with other people.

With that, here’s this week’s slice of joy…

Collective effervescence

I went to a dance show in a giant theatre last night (dancers and dogs sharing the stage, in fact!) and there was such a sense of collective effervescence: of the whole audience of strangers rising up together to applaud and laugh and ooh and aah. I love it.

Similar glimmers:

• The collective eye roll you share with strangers when you find out your plane is delayed.

• The relief of a tea break in the midst of a busy conference.

Someone I love died on Sunday. I was with him during his final days, and was reminded again how sacred, and beautiful, and heartbreaking dying is.

His death was not a surprise. We got the terminal cancer diagnosis at the end of January, and have been grieving in some way since then. But the actual fact of it: of someone you love being here, and then not here, is profoundly shocking. I knew this, yet I had forgotten.

He had the same kind of cancer as my mom, weirdly enough - oesophageal metastasized to the liver - and so the last few days felt weirdly familiar, and completely different. Grief itself feels weirdly familiar.

This, again.

Fresh grief comes, not like a familiar visitor, but like a devastating illness I once had and did not think I would recover from.

The symptoms are familiar: the same heavy ache when I wake in the morning and remember. The same sense of having to peel myself off the floor to start the day. The same constant prickle behind my eyes, that overflow into tears at the merest hint of kindness.

I am listless and disinterested. Able to put on a brave face when necessary (and it is necessary, life demands it) but really wanting nothing more than to curl up under a blanket, soggy with tears.

The only difference, this time around, is that I know this illness will one day pass. When grief first struck me down, I did not think I would ever recover: I doubted I could ever feel joy or lightness again. Now I know I will, one day. Just not today.

And yet, of course, there are still glimmers.

Here’s this week’s slice of joy:

Love made visible

When the worst things happen, love reveals itself not as something intangible but something clearly, obviously visible. Food dropped off so you don’t have to shop. Meals ordered so you don’t have to think about dinner. Messages and treats and the feeling of being supported during the darkest days.

Similar glimmers:

• A hug that makes you feel safe, and loved.

• A friend who really gets you.

That said: sequins.

Tiny things I’m excited about right now

• Wearing the most fabulous green sequin dress this evening (for my Cape Town book launch!! Okay, that part isn’t tiny.)

• Seeing other friends in sequins and sparkly attire, if they so wish. (A certain type of person so wishes, most others think it’s the worst idea ever.)

• Sprinkling a touch of magic in the form of teeny tiny origami cranes and ‘Notice the Glimmers’ stickers on each seat.

• The ridiculous A1 canvas of my book cover that I think is so fun.

• People I love from different parts of my life meeting each other.

• The moment when I step off stage and my nervous system is flooded with relief.

• The star sprinkle cookies my daughter and I made for the book launch.

For the Cape Town book launch of Strange Nervous Laughter, I made green icing cupcakes (one of the characters, Harry, only eats green food). My mom, bless her, flew from Durban with a few dozen homemade frozen cupcakes in her suitcase so I didn’t have to bake them all myself… This time around, my daughter and I baked. Same same, but different. My mom would have loved it.

At the same time…

And because life is never just one thing… The person I love who has terminal cancer (and was diagnosed in January) is declining fast, and I am so so sad. It is a weird tension to be holding joy and sadness at the same time, and I am relieved that Daily Glimmers isn’t a book about joy when everything else is going well, but joy despite. Joy no matter what. Joy in the face of real life. Teeny tiny joy.

Here’s this week’s slice of joy:

Flowers.

Spring has officially sprung in Cape Town and there are flowers everywhere! In gardens, yes, but also covering the mountainside and pushing up through cracks in the pavement and lining the highway and growing out of gutters. It’s like the earth isn’t big enough for all the potential flowers, so they’re just bursting out anywhere they can think of. I love it.

Similar glimmers:

• A river rushing at full volume.

• Wind so strong it makes you gasp.

All the things that happen behind the scenes

If I’m entirely honest, I had forgotten the happy whirlwind of publishing a book. The Grief Handbook came out in 2021, a lifetime ago… Also, it was mid-COVID so we weren’t leaving the house much and my social calendar was entirely empty (which, while depressing, made for plenty of time to do book marketing!)

That is not the case right now. And yet I love this stuff! I’ve been pitching features ideas to magazines and dreaming up fun mini-events around Cape Town and figuring out how to print sparkly stickers because I loved the ones my lovely UK team made me, and wondering how many local bookstores I can randomly pop into to sign books without looking like I’m a book stalker…

Leaning into the whirl

Perhaps it’s a matter of leaning into the whirl? I have a distinct memory of waking up super early in the weeks before I published Strange Nervous Laughter to hand write notes to all the magazines I wanted the book to be featured in. I made myself a cup of tea and sat looking out over the city lights and thought: this is my dream come true! I’m telling people about my real-life published book!

Earlier this week, while sitting in the gentle Spring sunshine hand writing notes to go to media and influencers, I had the same pinch-me moment…

Here’s this week’s slice of joy:

When hard work pays off

So often it doesn’t. You slog away at something and it just doesn’t bear fruit. So when it does, when your hard work turns into something real, well! That is a joy.

Similar glimmers:

• A stain coming out of a piece of clothing you love.

• Climbing to the top of a steep hill and looking back at where you came from.

Let me preface this by saying that I’ve had a week full of emails and meetings and deadlines and family obligations and meal planning and life admin.

But last week! Oh, last week was *such fun*. Not just my London book launch, which was an absolute delight, but the whole carefree, summertime week.

I think it was partly because I was obligation free - nobody else to look after, no work, no emails, no deadlines - but also because of the rare frivolity of being on holiday and out of routine. Everything was an adventure, even the things that would doubtless be frustrating if I lived there (train travel! What a luxury!)

Doing things just for the LOLz

I went to all my favourite shops (Muji, IKEA and Flying Tiger), and wandered the charming streets catching up with friends, and ate delicious gelato, and traipsed around London in the sunshine being Book Fairy for a Day, and went to an incredible show at the West End (Hadestown, wow), and picnicked in parks and cuddled babies and drank sundowners on rooftops and ate delicious food and went on beautiful walks and it was all such fun!

I laughed more than I’ve laughed in weeks, and celebrated my book with so much bubbly and love and thoughtfulness and care from people that I love, and I feel so lucky.

With all that glee in mind, here’s this week’s slice of joy:

Laughing till you can’t catch your breath

There’s something about the combination of what was said and how it was said that makes the laughter explode out of you. You can’t explain why it was so funny but oh my goodness that fizzy feeling is the best.

Similar glimmers:

• A movie soundtrack that makes your heart soar.

• A joke that takes you by surprise.

PS: Cape Town, you’re next!

Book launch confirmed for Thursday 18th September at 5.30pm at the Book Lounge! Official invite to come, but in the meantime…