A Slow Transition into 2024

It didn’t go as planned, but I made it

Upcoming trips, more books, and creativity! (Yes, I made a vision board for 2024)

I was just about to throw Elena Ferrante’s My Brilliant Friend into my bag when a thunderstorm announced itself with a loud rumble in the distance. Grey clouds had swallowed up the remaining patches of blue sky and now hung over the ocean like dark shadows. In a race against the rain, Dave and I sprinted up the rocky stairs of Mackenzies Bay, towels wrapped around our bodies, shoes in hand, a wet dog in tow. Steam rose from the warm concrete our bare feet were slapping against with each step. We slammed the car doors shut behind us and watched the raindrops beat down on the windscreen as we looked out over Tamarama.

Thirty minutes earlier, the sun had fought its way through the thick blanket of clouds. We had been squeezed together on our towels between the holes and crevices carved into the rocks by the water, soaking up the warmth, listening to the rhythmic lapping of the waves—exactly what I had had in mind for the holidays. This year, we stayed put: no overseas travels, no road trips, not even an out-of-town Christmas. I was told the city would be slowing down as everyone left for their holiday homes or to be with family. And it was true: The streets were nearly empty, the usual roar of inner city life was reduced to a gentle hum; even the always-bustling Newtown was eerily quiet. I had been excited for the closure of the year. There was a long list of activities I had planned, including bush walks, sunrise swims, and kayaking; I was looking forward to spending some quality time in my own city. 

But shit, alas, happens. After that afternoon at Mackenzies, I got sick and spent the rest of my much-anticipated break at home with dirty tissues scattered around me and my (snotty) nose buried in the Neapolitan Novels. It wasn’t the worst way to spend the break. Thanks to my annual Instagram detox, screen time was cut in half and the days felt extra spacious. Social media and its impact on both my personal life and society at large is something I find myself thinking about more and more these days: I used to justify my heavy Instagram use as a way to connect with people I care about—especially friends overseas who I see once a year if I’m lucky—but I’m increasingly unsure if that’s true. Even if it is, and the sense of connection it provides is real and important, I still wonder if that outweighs the havoc it wreaks: the doomscrolling, unhealthy comparison, and constant overwhelm.

On January 2nd, I downloaded the app again. It took me only two days to realise that life without it somehow feels better—and I deleted it again. I’m not sure yet where the sweet spot is. To be continued. 

The unplanned confinement to home also opened up a space to reflect on the past year and think about the new one—which leads me to the question of resolutions. So much has been said and written about them. As is often the case, I land somewhere in the middle, somewhere between the cynics and the enthusiasts. But rather than making resolutions, I like to think about starting the new year with intention. Something that feels constructive but not too much like another chore is coming up with guiding principles I can come back to throughout the year whenever I need to refocus. There’s something about the start of the new year energises me, and tipping over into 2024 was no exception—only that it happened with a bit of a delay.

These are the three ideas I’m embracing this year.

Trusting in Growth

In 2023, I allowed myself to be comfortable—and I needed it. After coming to Australia, it took me years to get to this point: I had found my people. We had moved into our own house. I was happy with my job. I was making enough money. I prioritised routines—sleep, exercise, work, reading, writing. After years of turbulence, the dust had settled; I could breathe. It felt lovely to reap the rewards after a fair amount of personal struggle and effort and just to enjoy the life I had created for myself.

This year, I’m inviting in growth again, and by ‘inviting’ I mean: I’m not forcing it. I reject the idea of self-improvement just for the sake of it, that comfort zones are always bad, and that only a life in which we constantly push our boundaries is one worth living. The Goldilocks zone that provides the perfect amount of discomfort—not too much, not too little—is where I want to be in 2024. Being receptive to opportunities for growth feels softer, gentler, and more self-compassionate than strong-arming myself into situations I don’t want to be in just so I can tick something off at the end of the year; it feels like a way to both honour the abundance and stay open for expansion, knowing that even if nothing groundbreaking happens this year, I will be and will have done enough. This will mean saying No whenever I would rather stay in my comfort zone and saying Yes whenever I genuinely feel inspired and excited. 

The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple.
And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary
to achieve something beyond themselves.
― Alan Watts

Keeping It Simple

This ties in with my first point. On one of my sick days, I watched Live to 100: Secrets of the Blue Zones on Netflix. The documentary explores longevity in communities around the world ‘where people live extraordinarily long and vibrant lives’. More than various habits related to diet or exercise, what stuck out to me was that people who are approaching a hundred and are looking happy and radiant are living simple lives. Instead of having more choices designed to make life ‘easier’, centenarians in Sardinia or Okinawa have less of everything: what they eat, how they move, and how they spend their time is simple. What these people focus on is purpose and community.

The more time I spend offline, the clearer I can see the power behind this, and I’m amazed—not in a good way—at our collective failure to recognise the degree to which we have confused our priorities. Maybe we aren’t wired to navigate the complexities we have constructed for ourselves; what we might need is a little less of everything. This year, I’m focusing even more on the things that bring me joy and peace: reading books, marvelling at nature, fostering connection, writing stories—being present. (I also really want to learn how to bake my own sourdough bread like a hundred-year old Italian nonna.)

Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind.
— Ralph Waldo Emerson

Going Deeper

As I’m writing this third point, I realise it’s yet another side of the same coin. I long for depth. In the last few years, I have come to understand what is important to me. Now is the time to dig deeper—in relationships, my work, and passions. Instead of trying to read a certain number of books (a goal that has served me well because it forced me to pick up a book whenever I wanted to reach for my phone), I’m looking forward to rereading texts that I want to gain a deeper understanding of. Instead of trying to find more friends or wasting energy on chasing after casual acquaintances, I’m excited to strengthen bonds with close friends.

It’s been almost ten years since my first yoga class, and while the physical practise has been—and will perhaps always be—a constant in my life, I’m becoming more and more interested in the exploration of the mind. If there was ever a time in history for self-enquiry and cultivating greater awareness, it is now. On that note, I have been thinking about attending a Vipassana retreat for years, and now feel like it might be time. I’m curious about the idea of spending ten days in complete silence—maybe this spring?

(Side note: I’ve been using Sam Harris’ Waking Up app for years and genuinely think it’s the best resource for anyone interested not only in mindfulness and meditation, but the nature of the mind. I know Sam has a reputation for being controversial at times, but even if you don’t agree with all his views, a lot of what he says is worth listening to. Here’s his short New Year’s message called ‘Finding Sanity in 2024’. If anyone is interested in a free month of unlimited access, let me know—I can give you a 30-Day Guest Pass.)

At last, I’m ready for 2024. Let’s do this.

Vanessa x

Lately I enjoyed reading, as mentioned above, the first three books of Ferrante’s Neapolitan Quartet; it took me a moment to get into it, but by the second book, I couldn’t put it down. I also read these reflections about ‘the Dual Life of the Creative Spirit’, this piece about the different versions of loneliness, and a lovely article about age-gap couples. I listened to this podcast by the Atlantic about How to Rest. And lastly, I watched some great movies recently, most notably the genre-defying Poor Things and beautiful Maestro. Good Grief is also an easily watchable comedy/drama on Netflix.