What Is a Glimmer Finding Small Moments of Joy When Your Mind Won’t Switch Off
I recently learnt a new word and I have been carrying it around in my pocket ever since.
GLIMMER. ✨
Isn’t that lovely?
I heard it from a lovely client of mine, who also comes to my yoga classes. She is a mental health professional too, so as you can imagine, our conversations can wander from “how are your hips feeling today?” to “let’s talk about the human nervous system” in about four seconds flat.
We were chatting about mindfulness and meditation, and I mentioned something I have said many times before:
Traditional meditation has never come particularly naturally to me.
I am neurodivergent, and when someone says:
“Just empty your mind.”
My brain seems to interpret that as:
“Excellent. Let’s have three completely unrelated conversations at once and start singing a random song.” 😂
Honestly, my mind can go from “focus on the breath” to “what did I do with that library book in 2006?” with Olympic-level speed.
For years, I felt a bit guilty about this. As someone who teaches yoga and works holistically, there can be an odd pressure to be “good” at meditation. As if I should be able to sit cross-legged, float three inches off the floor, and think only of clouds and compassion.
Instead, I am often sitting there remembering that I need to buy oat milk.
But this conversation made something click.
Maybe I have been practising a different kind of presence all along.
Maybe mindfulness does not always have to look like stillness, silence, and a perfectly empty mind.
Maybe, for some of us, it looks more like noticing a tiny, beautiful moment and letting it land.
That is where glimmers come in.
My version of being present
The word I kept coming back to was contemplation.
Not in a heavy, philosophical, “let’s sit on a mountain and ponder the meaning of existence” way. Although if anyone is offering me a mountain and a flask of tea, I’m not saying no.
I mean contemplation as becoming completely absorbed in a tiny moment.
Instead of trying to empty my mind, I sometimes find myself gently pulled into something small. A sensation. A sound. A smell. A little pocket of “oh, this is nice.”
And in those moments, I am present.
Not because I forced my mind to behave itself.
Because something good caught my attention.
The first sip of coffee
Sometimes the first sip of coffee in the morning makes everything stop for a moment.
No emails.
No plans.
No mental to-do list.
Just:
“Bloody hell, that’s a good coffee.” 😂
For a few seconds, there is nothing to fix, plan, analyse, improve, or remember. There is only warmth, taste, smell, and the tiny joy of being alive with a decent brew in your hand.
That counts.
I know it does not look like a glossy wellness advert. There are no singing bowls. No linen trousers. No serene woman smiling at a sunrise while somehow not looking cold.
But it is presence.
Real presence.
Walking with my dog
Another one for me is walking with my dog.
Now, dog walks are not always peaceful. Sometimes they are less “mindful stroll through nature” and more “please do not eat that mysterious pavement item”.
But there are moments.
The sound of paws on the ground.
A little tail going like mad.
The way the air feels on your face.
That pause when your dog stops to sniff a patch of grass as though it contains the secrets of the universe.
And because they are so fully in the moment, it can pull you there too.
Dogs are brilliant teachers of presence. They do not worry about tomorrow’s admin. They do not replay something awkward they said in 2014. They are here, now, delighted by a stick.
I respect that deeply.
The tiny things that interrupt the noise
For me, these moments can be:
Sunlight landing on the floor
A song coming on at exactly the right time
The smell of fresh washing
A proper belly laugh with someone you love
Getting into clean bedding
The first bite of something delicious
A bird doing something ridiculous in the garden
The feeling after a yoga class when your shoulders finally drop
They are small. Almost too small to mention.
But when your mind is busy, tired, anxious, or constantly switched on, small can be powerful.
So, what is a glimmer?
A glimmer is a small moment that gives your nervous system a sense of safety, connection, calm, joy, or warmth.
The term is often linked with the work of Deb Dana, a clinician and author known for making Polyvagal Theory easier to understand in everyday life. Polyvagal Theory, developed by Dr Stephen Porges, looks at how the nervous system responds to cues of safety and threat.
Most of us are familiar with the idea of triggers. A trigger is something that activates stress, fear, anger, shutdown, or old pain.
A glimmer works in the other direction.
It is a cue that tells your body:
“You are safe enough in this moment.”
“You can soften a little.”
“There is something good here.”
Glimmers are usually not huge life-changing moments. They are not necessarily winning the lottery, falling in love, or being handed a free holiday to somewhere warm where nobody asks you what’s for tea.
They are often tiny.
A kind smile.
A familiar smell.
A favourite mug.
A patch of blue sky.
A text from someone who gets you.
The first stretch of the morning.
A candle flickering while the house is quiet.
Your nervous system notices these things, often before your thinking brain has caught up. For a moment, your body receives a message of ease.
That does not mean all your difficulties disappear. Glimmers are not magic wands. They do not solve grief, burnout, trauma, stress, hormones, pain, or the cost of the weekly shop.
But they can create little pauses.
And sometimes, little pauses matter.
Glimmers and savouring are beautifully connected
There is another psychological idea that fits perfectly here: savouring.
Savouring means noticing, appreciating, and mentally staying with a positive experience. It is the practice of letting something good last a little longer in your awareness.
The glimmer is the spark.
Savouring is how you cup your hands around it for a moment.
For example, the glimmer might be noticing the smell of your coffee. Savouring is pausing long enough to actually enjoy it, rather than drinking it while answering a message, feeding the dog, and mentally planning six tasks.
The glimmer might be hearing birdsong. Savouring is letting yourself listen for a few breaths.
The glimmer might be someone laughing in a way that makes you laugh too. Savouring is feeling the warmth of it in your body before rushing on.
Research in positive psychology suggests that savouring can support wellbeing by helping us register positive experiences more fully. That phrase is important: register positive experiences.
Because many of us do have good moments in the day. We just don’t always absorb them.
Our brains are very good at scanning for problems. This makes sense from a survival point of view. If your ancestors ignored the rustle in the bushes, things might not have gone brilliantly for them.
But in modern life, that same threat-scanning brain can get stuck on:
What needs doing
What might go wrong
What we said that sounded weird
What everyone else needs from us
What we have not done yet
Savouring gently interrupts that pattern.
It says, “Yes, there are hard things. And also, this tea is lovely.”
Both can be true.
Why glimmers can help when your mind won’t switch off
If your mind is busy, sitting down to meditate can sometimes feel like being trapped in a room with a hyperactive committee.
One part of you wants calm.
Another part is writing a shopping list.
Another part is replaying a conversation.
Another part is singing the chorus of a song you do not even like.
This is why glimmers can feel more accessible than formal meditation. They give the mind a gentle place to land.
You are not trying to stop every thought. You are giving your attention something kind, simple, and sensory to rest on.
That might be:
The warmth of a mug in your hands
The scent of lavender or rosemary
The sound of rain on the window
The feeling of your feet on the floor
The colour of the sky at dusk
The softness of your pet’s fur
For neurodivergent minds, anxious minds, grieving minds, busy minds, and exhausted minds, this can be a much more compassionate doorway into presence.
No force.
No performance.
No “why can’t I do this properly?”
Just noticing.
And perhaps whispering internally, “Oh. That was nice.”
How to start noticing glimmers in everyday life
The lovely thing about glimmers is that you do not need a complicated routine. You do not need special equipment. You do not need to become a completely different person who journals at 5 am and drinks green juice with suspicious enthusiasm.
You can start exactly where you are.
Let your senses lead
Glimmers often come through the senses, so begin there.
Ask yourself:
What can I see that feels pleasant?
What can I hear that feels soothing?
What can I smell that I like?
What can I physically feel that is comforting?
What taste can I slow down and enjoy?
This is not about searching desperately for joy. That can become another task, and goodness knows we have enough tasks.
It is more like softening your gaze and allowing small things to appear.
Name it when it happens
When you notice a glimmer, try naming it.
“That’s a glimmer.”
“This feels good.”
“I like this moment.”
It might feel a bit cheesy at first. That is fine. Many useful things feel cheesy until they start working.
Naming it helps your brain pay attention. It turns a passing pleasant moment into something you actually register.
Stay with it for a few extra seconds
This is where savouring comes in.
When something good happens, see if you can stay with it for ten seconds longer than usual.
Not ten minutes. Not a full ceremony.
Just a few breaths.
Feel it in your body. Notice whether your shoulders drop, your jaw softens, your breath changes, or your chest feels a little warmer.
This is how a tiny moment becomes nourishment.
Create a glimmer list
If your brain likes lists, make one.
You could jot down your personal glimmers in your phone or notebook. Keep it simple.
Mine might include:
First coffee of the day
My dog being weird and wonderful
Fresh air after being indoors too long
Cosy socks
Good music in the car
Someone sending a message that says, “This made me think of you”
The feeling at the end of a yoga class
A quiet kitchen before everyone needs something
Your list will be different. That is the point. Glimmers are personal.
One person’s glimmer is another person’s “absolutely not”. For example, some people find sea swimming blissful. I can appreciate that in theory, but my nervous system may interpret it as “why are we being attacked by soup?”
Build tiny rituals around them
Once you know your glimmers, you can gently make space for them.
Light the candle.
Use the nice mug.
Open the window for two minutes.
Put on the song.
Step outside and look at the sky.
Take three breaths before drinking your coffee.
These rituals do not need to be grand. In fact, it is better if they are small enough to actually happen on a normal Tuesday when the washing pile is making eye contact with you.
A gentle word if life feels heavy
I want to say this clearly.
Noticing glimmers does not mean pretending everything is fine.
It does not mean bypassing pain, ignoring trauma, or turning difficult feelings into a gratitude project with a glitter pen.
Some seasons of life are genuinely hard. If you are struggling with your mental health, please reach out to a qualified professional, your GP, or a trusted support service. This blog is here for gentle information and reflection, not as a replacement for mental health care.
Glimmers are not about forcing positivity.
They are about allowing small moments of safety or pleasure to exist alongside the hard stuff.
Sometimes the most honest sentence is:
“This is difficult, and the sky is beautiful.”
That is not denial.
That is being human.
Presence does not have to be perfect
Learning about glimmers made me feel kinder towards myself.
Maybe I am not “bad at meditation”.
Maybe my way into presence is different.
Maybe your way is different too.
Perhaps presence is not always an empty mind. Perhaps it is noticing the first sip of coffee. Laughing at your dog. Feeling the sun on your face. Hearing a song that makes your whole body go, “Oh, I needed that.”
The next time your mind refuses to switch off, try not to battle it into silence.
Look for one small thing.
One gentle cue.
One flicker of warmth.
One glimmer.
And when you find it, stay for a breath longer.
That counts. ✨
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