The full newsletter sample is below, but first I hope you read this for context…
Hi there!!!
If you've been following my work for a while, you may know me through my music, writing, momondays, speaking, or one of the many projects I've been fortunate enough to be part of over the years.
What connects all of those things is a fascination with stories — the ones we tell ourselves, the ones we share with others, and the small moments that help us make sense of life.
That's what inspired a new newsletter called Glimmers & Gratitudes. (Usually a 2-3 minute read.)
I’ve been writing weekly glimmers & gratitudes for a few years, mostly for myself, to help me make sense of my world and maintain a sense of optimism. And then I thought that you might appreciate that too. Every few weeks, I'll share a short reflection (and hopefully a bit of wisdom) drawn from my work, creativity, relationships, music, or everyday life.
Not advice. Not marketing. No sales pitch.
Just observations, stories, and ideas that I hope will give you something to think about.
Below is the current issue as a sample. If it resonates with you, then I invite you to add your email to receive the next one, at https://momondays.com/stay-in-the-loop
Thanks for being here.
Michel
What's Hiding in the Groove?
Every Sunday evening, I sit down with my calendar notebook open to the pages from the past week and write my glimmers and gratitudes.
I go back over the week in my mind and look for the things I’m grateful for: moments of joy, peace, connection, or even some unexplained deep sense of satisfaction.
Lately, though, I’ve noticed that I’ve tended to gravitate toward the big, obvious accomplishments. They’re the low-hanging fruit.
But last week, I didn’t crush my goals, 10X my productivity, optimize my morning routine, hack my nervous system, manifest abundance, or become a dramatically improved version of myself by Thursday afternoon.
At first, it looked like an uneventful week.
Then I reminded myself that this weekly practice isn’t about focusing on the big, obvious accomplishments. So I started listing the little things.
And then a few more. And a few more.
Like how I ran my wife’s doggy business while she was away helping one of our daughters, who is expecting her third child. (A few plants died but none of the dogs ran off!)
And how I set up my old vintage stereo system and organized my collection of records and CDs, including every Bruce Springsteen record except one bootleg LP that some bad person pinched at a garage sale after I had put it in the “not for sale” milk carton.
I also counted 33 albums from Van Morrison’s massive discography. (I think I’m missing only Astral Weeks.)
And how I got the bones down for a song I’m co-writing with Brianna.
And how I’m getting noticeably more comfortable with the beautiful jazzy chord voicings I’m learning for Autumn Leaves, and I remember thinking, “Hey, maybe I really can play guitar.”
None of this was dramatic. There were no fireworks. No grand breakthrough. No trumpet section.
But it was movement.
In music, groove is easy to overlook because it isn’t always the thing we name first. It may not be the melody we hum or the anthemic chorus we belt out, but it’s the thing that makes the song move. In life, maybe it’s the thing that makes us move too.
Groove is pulse, momentum, and forward motion. It’s what we feel in our bodies before we have words for it.
Even "upbeat" and "downbeat" are musical words that wandered off and got emotional jobs. We talk about "finding our rhythm" and "hitting our stride" — not just because they're handy metaphors, but because we understand something instinctively.
We don’t only think our way through life. We move through it.
“In music as in life, groove is what makes you move”
We embody rhythm in the way we move through a day, a conversation, a project, a relationship, a week.
Sometimes we create momentum without noticing it because we’re too busy looking for the big, obvious wins.
That’s what my Glimmers & Gratitudes journal showed me this week. Not that I had secretly conquered the world, but that there was more movement than I had noticed while I was living it.
Progress doesn’t always feel like progress while it’s happening. Sometimes movement is only visible in retrospect.
And sometimes, the glimmers and gratitudes are hidden in the groove.