On Glimmers

Looking for tiny sparks of joy in an often restless, challenging world.

All photos © The Autumn Chronicles

Recently I was in a bookshop. This is not a massively unusual turn of events because bookshops are one of my favourite places on Earth. I love to browse, to feel the weight of the book in my palm, to read the synopsis, to look at the cover design. I inevitably end up ferrying a pile of books around the shop before realising there is no way I will be able to carry them all home. I then reluctantly part with some of them, keeping a list on my phone of those I will return for another day.

Spending time in a bookshop like this is, for me, a glimmer. A tiny, fleeting flash of peace and happiness, where I feel safe, cosy and content. A micro-moment of joy that helps to calm a nervous system that tends to be overwrought and overwhelmed, even on the best of days.

I only recently became aware of the term ‘glimmer’, a word that has come to symbolise an antidote to all the ways in which the world can feel heavy and loud. Glimmers are moments of gentleness, of replenishing. They are a tonic for the impermanence of life; in a world where everything is changing, the stability of these small moments can be a comfort and can lead to unexpected moments of calm.

The wonderful thing about glimmers is that they are all around us, everywhere – we just need to train ourselves to look for them. It is so easy to constantly focus on the negative, on the deadlines and schedules, the rush and the hurry, the alarm and the fear that are always just there, on the edges of our lives. A glimmer can be something as simple as birdsong first thing in the morning, feeling a wash of spring sunshine on your face after the darkness of winter, or seeing the colours of the setting sun.

Glimmers force us to embrace joy, to experience beauty in the small moments, where it matters most. They encourage us to look beyond the superficial, to delve deeper into what might lie beneath the surface if we take the time to examine more closely. They allow us to truly understand what nourishes us, to re-connect to ourselves in the most wonderful of ways. They also teach us to be optimistic, to look for hope in the shadows, to seek magic in the gloom and to search for renewal when we are faced with decline.

For me, I find glimmers in the woods where I walk in midsummer to check how the blackberries are ripening. I feel them when one (or both!) of my cats crawl into my lap and start to purr contentedly. I see them in the sunsets framed by the window of my writing room, where I can watch the colours dance across the sky. I hear them in kind words spoken by strangers: powerful, surprising, impactful. I taste them in my mother’s apple crumble recipe, the flavours acting as a gateway to my childhood and the sense of security that only she could provide. I smell them in crisp autumn air, tinged with woodsmoke and the expectation that comes with the changing season, and the bloom of a late rose in my garden.

I’d love to know: what are some glimmers you have experienced lately?