I used to love magazines. Only particular periodicals, of course, but love them nonetheless, for their gloss and thick, wonderful feel in my hands, a sensation that seemed to promise an equally fat chunk of time and pleasure in the perusal of their lovely images, thought-provoking articles, book recommendations, recipes, readings and snip-worthy portions, some of which, by the way, I retain from the collection of a teenage me.
As the years went by, however, I became less enamored of magazines, partly because more adult obligations entered my life and I simply lacked time. Though it is true, too, that the ads, which before I mostly skipped over save for their cut-and-pastability, grew old, and there were so many of them in the glossies I had once cherished. I suppose someone had to revenue the expensive articles, but paying the price for what nearly amounted to a book of advertisements was no longer charming. Moreover, as the letters from editors and articles became viciously politicized, I grew weary of expending so much mental energy working through words that demonized people such as myself—and via laundry lists of hate tellingly leaving out details that didn’t fit their apparent agendas. These reads no longer fed my soul, but rather sucked from me like a parasite, especially considering I was paying for them to do it.
This changed a couple of years ago when by chance I happened across a few magazines whose cover images communicated such feelings as “soulful inspiration” and “cozy retreat,” along with “creative simplicity” and “comforting beauty.” I was drawn to the special edition of one that spoke entirely about mindfulness, a sensible philosophy, oddly paired as that phrase may seem, that focuses on the moment. The many ideas wrapped themselves around me like a warm blanket because they were exactly what I needed in a life that had so much packed into it and demanded an amount of attention I could no longer give and remain healthy. Lovingly the words reached out to me, persuading that only one action should be something I do in that very moment: slow down.
Some readers here may remember the one that struck me from the start and that I haven’t let go of since: Flow. “A magazine for papers lovers,” it bills itself, and I am most definitely a paper fool. In the past couple of years I’ve seen a bit of an uptick in the magazine’s drive to increase reader consumerism with their spinoff products, something I really don’t need and work to avoid, but apart from that I love it as much as ever. The magazine sections, with several articles in each, include “Simplify Your Life,” “Feel Connected” and “Live Mindfully,” and every issue comes with a goodie or two for the paper geeks in us. This time it’s an herbarium booklet—perfect for walks during the oncoming spring/summer.
One article that appealed speaks of finding balance, another on the advantages of waiting (helpful for those mom-to-kid discussions on delayed gratification) and “The Fun of Watercoloring.” Interestingly, the piece’s blurb points to a thought I’d been forming just recently as I attempt to drive away anxiety about my own watercolors-to-be: that them coming out not as expected (or hoped) might actually be a great thing. And the pages smell wonderful. (Yes, I smell books.)
And books indeed are what these treasures really, when it comes down to it, are. I’d contemplated this before, but it was confirmed in my mind last night when I found a new title, Bella Grace. It’s hard to overemphasize how really thrilled I was to stumble upon this, which also happened accidentally. Typically on our visits to the bookstore my son and I gather a few items and head for the café. As usual I went for the periodical section for my favored titles, but didn’t see this one until I was putting the not-gets away! So just as accidentally as with Flow, I came across one containing a section—cited on the cover no less—called “Everyday Bits of Magic Worth Celebrating.” As I turned the card-stock quality paper, illustrated with photos as opposed to the drawings in many of the other new-style magazines, I breathed in the scent of the pages, marveled at the pieces’ titles and their wonderfully economic lengths that, for me, emphasize not “brief for those in a hurry” (although that may be part of the publishers’ rationale), but rather enables the flow of thought without overwhelmingly long articles, and gasped longingly at the prompts strategically positioned following sets.
There are entire pages with just one large photo and an inspirational quote that strikes me as words we really can be inspired by, as opposed to philosophical mantras that sound great but people often dismiss as so much else competes for their thought and time. I was so delighted at much of what I saw, including in “Sentiments” where readers write in, such as: “I stopped reading most mainstream magazines because I became disenchanted with the ads and constant advice. Your magazines are total immersion therapy for soulful art and inspiration.” That is the kind of thing I have been looking for for so long—soulfulness and inspiration, not badgering or condescension from those who care only about how much money they can wring from us. The publishers of these magazines have creatively tapped into what I believe many in our societies are feeling, and providing us with a return on the money we spend. Certainly they gain when we buy their products, but we benefit as well, whereas an expensive dress we saw in a fashion magazine can make us feel beautiful or happy for only a limited amount of time if that was the kind of thing we sought with its purchase.
Of course, you’ve heard this sort of thing before; so have I. Many of us have stopped buying, but still long for something we can’t always identify or define. Naturally, much of what we need and want grows internally and no purchase—even beautiful magazines—will put that there. It’s up to us to make the effort, but what I see here also is an exchange of ideas that can enable the internal growth of an intentional life, bringing a great deal more happiness and flowering of initiative and design.
Another thing I love about it—apart from the smell—is that there is absolutely no outside advertising, so the content remains timeless and you can pass it in its folding jacket cover to someone else as a small treasure. And while the magazine does have an online presence, the real content is in the book itself, accessible by getting off the Internet, reading and sharing.
One final note: Bella Grace’s “10 Easy Ways to Add Hygge to Your Life” defines the Danish word as “a general coziness as well as taking pleasure in simple moments.” Bella Grace thinks I know what this word already means, but I’d never heard of it until last night (despite my Danish Auntie Astrid, whose love certainly was hygge itself). Nevertheless, upon arriving home I practiced it most enthusiastically with a milk bath, climbing onto a yummy bed fluff with pillows, candles and the remaining scent of my blueberry soap as I settled into the magical, wonderful words and images that I am sure I shall muse more about at another time.