Hello,

I’m back in France after four weeks in Malaysia, feeling a bit like I’m operating in slow motion whilst everyone else has already shifted into September gear. It’s strange how returning to your birth country can feel both like coming home and discovering somewhere entirely new—especially when you’re seeing it through your children’s eyes for the first time. Watching them smell durian and wrinkle their noses, then light up over roti canai, reminded me how much of who we are gets passed down in small moments around food and family stories.

📖 BOOK UPDATE

The manuscript hit 32,000 words before I disappeared to Malaysia—a proper first draft, but definitely not something anyone should read yet. It’s that awkward stage where all the ideas are there, but need serious shaping. Over the next couple of months, I need to sort out the practical bits: finding an editor, working out cover design, and all the typesetting magic that turns a messy Word document into something that actually looks like a book.

I’ve also stumbled across what might be the perfect title, but I’m keeping that under wraps until everything’s properly ready to launch. What I will share is one of my favourite discoveries from the research—thanks to Nicholas Kemp, an ikigai expert who completely flipped my understanding of this concept. Turns out, ikigai isn’t that oversimplified Venn diagram everyone shares on LinkedIn about finding your dream job. Work is just one part of life, and there’s actually a specific term for work-related meaning: hatarakigai—a subset of ikigai that’s specifically about work as a source of life meaning. This distinction changes everything about how we think about meaningful work versus meaningful life.

💡 WHAT I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT

I’ve just watched the first episode of “Limitless” on Disney+ - Chris Hemsworth’s journey into brain optimisation - and it’s left me thinking about something we don’t talk about enough in midlife conversations: the undeniable reality of cognitive decline.

The research is stark. Our brains shrink by approximately 5% per decade after the age of 40. I feel it myself - that slight hesitation when I’m trying to recall a specific compliance regulation, the way complex analysis takes a bit longer than it used to. Friends are mentioning it too, usually with that nervous laugh we use when discussing uncomfortable truths.

But here’s what fascinated me about Hemsworth’s experiment: cognitive decline isn’t irreversible.

The episode follows this 41-year-old taking up drumming - one of the most challenging instruments to learn - with just eight weeks to perform in front of 70,000 people at an Ed Sheeran concert. The choice wasn’t random. Drumming requires all four limbs working independently, which strengthens the corpus callosum - the brain’s largest white matter tract that connects the left and right hemispheres. Stronger connections between brain hemispheres improve everything from multitasking to emotional regulation.

What struck me most was watching Hemsworth learn to learn. His coach taught him “chunking” - breaking complex patterns into small, manageable pieces, the same technique Cirque du Soleil acrobats use for choreography. It’s not about natural talent; it’s about systematic skill acquisition.

But the real lesson came two weeks before the concert. His timing was completely off, and his coach didn’t sugar-coat it: “When the drums are off, the bass gets off, and the whole show falls apart.” You could see it hit Hemsworth in the gut - that raw confrontation with failure. But instead of breaking him, it fueled his motivation and taught him resilience.

This connects directly to what I’ve been exploring about midlife transitions. Perhaps the solution isn’t about accepting decline - it’s about deliberately choosing a challenge. Not just any challenge, but something genuinely difficult that forces new neural pathways to form.

For those of us feeling the cognitive shifts that come with ageing, perhaps the answer isn’t lamenting what we’re losing, but strategically building what we want to keep.

📚 BOOK CLUB

This summer I’ve been reading: Pure fiction - specifically cosy crime, which has become one of my favourite genres for switching off completely. Just finished “A Scone to Die For” by H.Y. Hanna, a delightfully humorous culinary mystery set in an English village. Sometimes you need a book that asks nothing more of you than to enjoy amateur sleuths, village gossip, and the occasional murder solved over afternoon tea.

What struck me: There’s something deeply satisfying about a story where the main character ditches her high-flying corporate job to open a traditional English tearoom - even when it leads to murder by scone. Gemma’s leap from the corporate world to pursuing her dream (complete with moving back in with her parents and dealing with a matchmaking mother) felt surprisingly relatable. Sometimes the most restorative stories aren’t about avoiding life’s messiness, but about characters who choose meaning over safety, even when it gets complicated.

But here’s what’s got me excited: during my holidays, I spent hours talking about books with friends. We rediscovered our shared marvel for Murakami’s works, and they introduced me to authors I’d never encountered. Those conversations reminded me how much richer reading becomes when it’s shared.

So here’s an idea: I’m thinking of starting an actual book club - nothing formal, just a space for thoughtful people to discuss what we’re reading, whether it’s cosy mysteries or career philosophy. If that sounds appealing, hit reply and let me know. Sometimes the best insights come from the most unexpected conversations.

One question for you: Here’s a thought: if learning new skills builds neural pathways, does reading outside our usual genres do the same? What’s the most unexpected book that’s changed how you think?

Thanks for being here. I read every response.

Inès