Less scrolling, more reflecting

A three-minute ritual, magic elevators & daily things

Recently, I’ve been experimenting with something called mirror work. Among its many rituals, one I keep returning to is setting a timer for three minutes and gazing into my own eyes.

Sometimes, I simply sit with my own reflection. Other times, I’ll say encouraging things like, “Hey, you’re doing your best, Madeleine.” Often, emotions will surface, and I’ll aim to recognise and feel them, offering myself space or even forgiveness.

Three minutes felt like an age in the beginning. I realised it’s because it’s so rare for me to look at myself during the day. I might do a two-second lipstick reapply, but I don’t often pause and really see myself.

And yet, I can spend hours looking at other people’s lives through a tiny screen. Before I’ve even had a chance to check in with myself, my own day, my own life, I’m lost in a scroll.

To create a shift, I’ve now made it a habit to look at myself for just a moment before I look at my phone in the morning.

As simple as that instruction seems, it’s part of a larger sequence. I keep my phone charging outside my bedroom so I don’t automatically reach for it upon waking. This requires me to have an alarm clock. It also means I now don’t scroll before bed, either.

It’s remarkable how quickly you can lose the taste for scrolling. I’ve had periods where the habit has been close to chronic, and felt impossible to break. But then, sometimes you just do. You simply get tired of taking little sips of life through a screen, and want more of the real, the slow, the ordinary.

After greeting myself each morning, I find myself eager to greet the day.

I’m more readily looking other people in the eye. I wear headphones less when I’m walking. I smile softly. On occasion, I’ve even offered little affirmations to strangers I’ve found irritating—“Hey, you’re doing your best,” I’ll say in my mind.

Perhaps it’s not all that surprising that I’ve noticed people also look my way more, smiling softly back—because how we see ourselves is reflected in the world we see. We are two mirrors, creating an infinity.

Spending less time scrolling and more time reflecting deepens our connection to ourselves and others. As Virginia Woolf wrote, “I need silence, and to be alone and to go out, and to save one hour to consider what has happened to my world.”

It might just be three minutes looking in the mirror, or adding a more intentional gaze as you brush your teeth, but it’s in these quiet moments that we can actually take ourselves in, and consider what’s happening not just in our own world, but in the world around us.

Another practice that helps me escape the scroll is one I’ve been carefully cultivating over the years: observing, collecting, and reflecting on the small things from the day. A fragment of conversation, a moment of serendipity, a new way of looking at things. I’ve kept this practice for over 1,000 days now, and it has changed how I understand myself and the world—which is what I’ll be exploring in an upcoming seminar.

I’ll be sharing more about this practice—and how you might begin one of your own — in an upcoming seminar. If you’d like to do less scrolling and more reflecting in your daily life, you’re welcome to join the waitlist below.

Things from the day

Monday 23 February

Sometimes the best thing you can do with discomfort is just give it a minute. A shift will come. All things oscillate.

Tuesday 24 February

I’m watching season two of Shrinking and write down this line: “Sometimes the villain in your story is just someone who made a big mistake.”

Wednesday 25 February

Overheard: “The important thing is that we begin more than we give up.”

Thursday 26 February

In the car with my brother Nelson, I ask if he also experiences the torment of a sunny day. “Not really,” he says. “Just because it’s a sunny day, doesn’t mean you have to be outside to enjoy it.”

We sit there, the car radio playing softly, and he adds, “It’s like music—sometimes you want to play it full blast, sometimes you just want something on in the background. Not every day has to be lived at full volume to be enjoyed.”

Friday 27 February

I’ve been referring to the elevator in my parents’ apartment building as the magic elevator. Each time I hop in, I’ll have a friendly exchange. Neighbours will introduce themselves. Tradies will make small talk. Someone will offer a high five to the person off to the gym. The cutest dogs will say hello.

Pondering why it’s always such a pleasant time, I realise part of it is in my own preparation for magic. I take my headphones out, I wear a soft smile, I look people in the eye, I pay attention.

And we can do this anytime. I can walk into a cafe and tell myself I’ll be amongst friends, and find them there. I can be midway through a tense conversation, and tell myself there’s a reasonable explanation for this person’s reaction, and suddenly things soften. Magic portals are everywhere, if we make them.

Saturday 28 February

Tonight, I’m sitting in the corner of The Jazz Lab, listening to Andrew Scott of The Pocket Trio and singer Tilly Street perform the song they wrote after reading my book.

“I didn’t do the thing today…
I couldn’t find the will or way…
it has escaped me one more day…
won’t someone tell me it’s okay…
you didn’t do that thing today…”
🎶

We have a chance to meet for the first time at interval, and gush back and forth. I’m struck by the virtuous circle of creativity—to my utter surprise and delight, my book inspired these incredible musicians to write a song, and in turn, their song inspires me to keep writing. Inspiration always begets inspiration. Put your work into the world.

Sunday 1 March

Today, I check my mailbox and find an envelope adorned with the most wonderful collage-style lettering. Astonished, I soon realise such thoughtfulness could only come from Sophie Howarth, who kindly offered to send me her book Everyday Wonder after we shared a serendipitous exchange.

Upon opening, the serendipity continued. Inside, Sophie included a bookmark with one of my favourite quotes attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson, which I also share in my own book:

“Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.”

Thank you Sophie for the beauty you bring to the everyday!

Read the archive of days

→ Peruse an archive of over 1,085 days

If you’re curious about my daily writing and observation practice—and how to create one of your own—you’re welcome to join the waitlist below. I’ll be sharing more soon.