Old Is New Again

Reflections on finding beauty and magic in what we already have

For much of my youth, like so many young people, I was enamoured with the idea of the new. I wanted to move house, to move countries, to try new food, new clothes, and new experiences. I was drawn to novelty, the sense of forward motion, of always having something fresh on the horizon. I was never very materialistic but I loved to travel, to expand, and was constantly seeking something different. One of the only things that was very consistent for me was a spiritual longing and a love of yoga and my teachers. Followed by years later a deep commitment to mothering that became anchoring, but even then the chasing of kaleidoscope dreams and a restlessness was often present.

When the pandemic arrived, that ‘searching for novelty’ way of life quickly slowed. Everything slowed, and I don’t think we talk about the blessing of that enough. I actually quite liked lockdowns, truly. Life as we knew it was paused, and the familiar rhythm of productivity and consumption was disrupted. Home, once just the place I returned to after being out in the world, suddenly became the entire world. Home as the centre of the universe. A similar thing happens in the weeks and months after having a new baby and it’s a blessing.

Don’t misunderstand me there were many things about lockdowns that were difficult, but within that strange and uncertain time, something unexpected happened. I began to rediscover joy in what I already had. The same old clothes, the well-worn books, the dusty board games, the TV shows I’d already seen, these things started to feel comforting rather than boring. There was something quite beautiful in the repetition, in the familiarity and reawakening of past joys.

A friend and I re-purposed an ‘old’ course we had once created together on essential oils (that was so fun Amy Taylor-Kabbaz!) and helped over 100 frazzled mums in lockdown get better sleep.
My son and I returned to a favourite pumpkin pie and cookie recipe, over and over again and made them the same every time. Instead of experimenting we stuck with the recipe because it gave us a sense of rhythm and comfort.

Life slowed down and lots of ‘rediscovering’ occurred.

My teacher Sharon Gannon speaks to this kind of experience when she says, 

“Magic is a shift in perception. When we change the way we look at things, the things we look at change.”

That teaching has stayed with me for decades now. It reminds us that transformation doesn’t always come from the outside. Sometimes it comes from within, from a decision to see what we already have through fresh eyes. What once felt mundane can feel magical, if we allow it to. I’m reminded of a funny, cheesy song which my kids love to sing (and tease me about). I bet you know it … listen here. The kids like it because it contains a lyric that teases yoga teachers but if you listen to the narrative of the whole song it’s about a guy who responds to a dating ad only to have his existing girlfriend turn up as his ‘new date’. (Side note: I miss the days when songs told stories and I think this is one reason why Taylor Swift is so popular – because she’s a storyteller songwriter).

This shift in perspective also aligns with the wisdom of environmentalism, particularly the well-known adage: reduce, reuse, recycle. We live in a culture that urges us to constantly consume, to chase newness, and to discard what no longer feels shiny. But what if we paused to truly look around at what we already own? What if we embraced the principle of reusing not just to protect the Earth from over consumption, but to protect ourselves from perpetual dissatisfaction and shiny object syndrome?

Repurposing and reusing brings us back to the present moment and invites us into a more sustainable and reverent relationship with the material world. It asks us to look with care - to notice what is lingering at the back of our wardrobes, our pantries, or even our minds and hearts.

• What clothes have you not worn in years that might feel new again with fresh eyes?
• What books have you bought but never finished reading - or even started?
• What recipes, rituals, or creative projects are waiting for your return?
• What passion projects did you begin, but never quite bring to completion?

There is a particular kind of disappointment that arises when we abandon things halfway through. I know because I do this a lot (it’s a very ‘pitta’ thing to do for those interested in ayurveda). And there is a particular kind of delight that comes when we return and see something through to its end. Completing a long-forgotten craft project or revisiting an unfinished poem can be an act of healing and reclaiming your own creative energy.

So today, I invite you to consider finding the new within the old. Rewatch a favourite film. Cook a cherished family recipe. Listen to a song on repeat. Wear clothes you haven’t touched in years. Dust off that unfinished manuscript, painting, or knitted scarf.

Let yourself remember that beauty doesn’t always come from change. Sometimes, it comes from choosing to stay, to stay home, to stay in that relationship (warts and all) to see it differently, and to love it anew.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

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