17/02/2026
In my early fifties, I’ve started something that feels quietly radical for me - I’m returning to big, beautiful books.
Some are centuries old. Some are modern. What they have in common is that they require attention.
Life filled up quickly these past decades - work, motherhood, responsibility. I always adored reading, but somewhere along the way I began valuing textbooks, qualifications, skill-building. Knowledge felt productive, useful, necessary. Novels began to feel like indulgence.
Depth, character, long time arcs, other eras and perspectives - they quietly shimmied down the priority list without me noticing.
And lately I’ve been noticing what constant scrolling does to the mind. The quick hits. The tiny bursts of intensity. The way focus fragments without you quite realising.
So this feels like a gentle reconditioning. A beautiful brain rinse.
Long-form reading asks our brain to stay….follow a thought all the way through.
To sit with ambiguity.
To tolerate discomfort without reaching for distraction.
From a clinical lens, that strengthens attention networks, working memory, empathy, and emotional regulation. From a human lens, it simply feels like depth returning.
The intention isn’t to be well read, rather - it’s to tend the mind.
This little stack on my favourite reading chair is my nourishing mind practice. Slowing the tempo. Returning to depth… it feels delicious.
Is anyone else on a similar journey?
And I don’t mean just the classics. Read whatever holds you - literary fiction, crime, memoir, poetry, hockey romance (apparently that’s a whole genre 😄). It doesn’t matter what you read. It matters that you give your attention to something long enough for it to work on you.
What do you have on your bedside table at the moment? Does it steady you, stretch you, stir you? 📚
