The Art Of Meditation

Well, January is nearly over, and it feels like I've dragged myself limping and sniffing over the finish line. It was a month of reflection and not committing myself to any pressures, though in reality I ended up pushing myself a bit too hard…. Never mind. I have plans for February and they are of a much more peaceful nature.

Meditation. Apparently we should all be doing it. I've read many, many, MANY articles that say just 10 minutes of meditation a day is enough to lower blood pressure, improve sleep, vastly reduce stress and boost well being and happiness levels. Which all sounds lovely, but despite my efforts last year I never quite managed to make meditation stick. I went through a two-week phase where I meditated before bed every night, and I did feel a LOT more peaceful during the day but it involved me having to sleep in a separate bed from Alex, otherwise he would throw me out of my peace-train when he clambered into bed an hour after I'd reached my zen. And that's not ideal – he's warm and comfy and not something I want to sacrifice for the sake of inner peace. (That sounds more dramatic than it is. You know what I mean).

My biggest problem with meditation is keeping focus. As anyone who knows me will know, I am something of an over-thinker. This has rarely been a positive thing, and definitely isn't when trying to clear my mind and fill my body with radiant peace and love and universal cosmic vibrations of harmony. Just one minute of meditation usually feels like this:

The prospect of 10-15 minutes of this daily can therefore feel a little overwhelming. I read some good advice once which suggested that every time a new thought pops into my head, I just flick my inner-gaze away from it, as though looking at a blank wall instead. This kind of worked, but I suppose as with any hobby, practice is required to be any good at it.

Well, for February, my hobby is going to be meditation. I'll take it any which way I can, and I will read up on it and put it to practice. If I find any brilliant tips, I'll let you know ('oh would you, Catherine? Oh you are too kind that's definitely what we want you to do, regale us with boring hippy advice about meditation, thaaaaanks.' You're welcome).

I shall light some candles, instruct Alex not to disturb me and play my wind-chimey music until by jove I'm blissed out.

And then I'll probably become very intense and talk about trees a lot and say 'namaste' in normal conversation and encourage my friends to fondle their chakras. It's remarkable I have many friends left, considering how incredibly tedious I am striving to become…

🙂

 

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Suck It Up Sunday

I have a gravelly, husky voice that Phil Mitchell would be proud of, but far from feeling sorry for myself I am instead ensuring that everyone else feels sorry for me and have allowed Alex to clean the house today whilst I slack around reading in a woollen scarf, drinking hot Ribena and making pathetic coughing noises whenever Alex strays my way with the Hoover. He's a diamond of a boyfriend, he really is.

Anyway! I've been very quiet on the writing this week, as I have been mostly preoccupied with a) work, b) not eating carbohydrates, c) feeling poorly and d) the annual choir show, 'One Night Only!' (It was yesterday, you missed your chance, big Soz)

This Tuesday marked my one year anniversary in my role, and my lovely manager got me this shiny card, which I wholeheartedly agree with:

Although I did ruin my 'employee of the week' chances by being too ill to come to work on Thursday and then forgetting my work t-shirt when I returned on Friday. But the card doesn't lie!!

This week my team coordinated a programme of employability-related events and workshops for our students to 'make themselves stand out' in the employment market. We really put our all into it, everyone worked really hard and it should have been a fantastic chance for students to take charge of their skills and professional development. Unfortunately, the week coincided with what used to be (years ago) an 'inter-semester break', and a lot of lecturers seem to be under the impression that it is still an inter semester break, and that therefore neither they nor their students need to come to university. This has presented some problems for us.

For example, we organised three 'Opportunities Showcases', one on each campus, which were employability fair-style events where local recruiters and organisations came to speak to students about paid, voluntary or internship opportunities that our students can get involved with whilst at uni. Whilst we were in the process of booking the rooms, we had to have a meeting with one of the campus managers, who told us in all seriousness that one of the rooms we had booked only had capacity for 80 people at any one time, so did we have a plan in place to ensure that we could monitor and enforce this? Otherwise it would be a serious health and safety risk in case of fire.

I assured her that yes, yes we did have a plan in place. Afterwards, one of my team asked me, “do we have a plan? How are we going to make sure that we don't have more than 80 people in the room at any time? Will we have to count them in? Ask people to leave when it gets full?”

I just stared at her.

Someone call for back-up, this over-crowding situation is getting out of control!!

I actually don't think that there were more than 80 students on the entire campus that day. I didn't need the riot shields or tazer guns after all.

So, earlier I mentioned that I've been embarking on a carbohydrate-free approach to eating. I was feeling pretty good doing this (before I got ill and could only stomach plain white toast) and had enjoyed coming up with some creative, tasty dishes based around veg, meat and fat. It felt more fun than eating plant-based food because I'm not a very good cook, and you can't just eat a can of Lima beans or lentils without much intervention like you can with a burger or an egg. I made this tasty meatball dish with courgette tagliatelle, which really was yummy even though it looks like an alien has just exploded in my frying pan:

I also made 'oopsie bread', which is a sort of bread roll situation, but made out of eggs, cream cheese and titchy bit of cream of tartar. Looks like this:

They would make a good burger bun, or a mini pizza base or just some bread to go with soup. You can't quite make a sandwich out of it as it's quite fragile (I think you are meant to leave it to cool for a while to firm it up, but I was impatient and hungry) but I'll make them again. They taste like a slightly eggy choux pastry, and covered with whipped cream would probably be very agreeable too!

I'll get back to it next week when I feel better – when I'm tired and coldy, I find that I crave bland carbs and sugar, so I'm happy to give myself a few days off.

And finally, my choir show!! The main thing is, it's over now.

I'm not going to dwell on the HIDEOUS rehearsal where my fellow 'girl group' members and I completely cocked it all up an hour before the performance, and where I forgot all of the words and tune. I'm not going to keep re-hashing the panic that gripped me as my voice suddenly gave way to a croak during the show, just before our group song in the spotlight. I am casting from my memory the effort involved in forcing out the whole of Sheena Easton's 9 to 5 (Morning Train) without sounding like a frog, and without being able to breathe through my nose or hear anything other than my own (terrible) voice through my clogged up sinuses. And I am no longer feeling sad about the fact that I had to mime 70% of the songs for the rest of the concert, including all my favourites that I have been happily practicing all year. I am pretending to be happy about the fact that the whole shebang has been filmed for the public's viewing pleasure.

GODDAMNIT.

Ohmmmmm all is calm all is well and like I said, at least it's over now and I don't have to have the panic of performing hanging over me any more. I'm just nursing my hoarse voice now. Alex is quite enjoying me not being able to talk much. He is making up for the two of us by repeatedly commanding Siri to find 'drip tip' on the internet, which sounds ghastly but is apparently some sort of e-cigarette paraphernalia. Siri isn't helping though, and just keeps suggesting websites containing triptychs.

Safer, I feel, than websites containing drip tips.

Until next time my beautiful friends.

Cx

 

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An Inadequate Tuesday

Today Matthew, I have mostly been feeling…inadequate.

I made the mistake of walking to work today. It was really rather sunny when I set out. It was pissing buckets by the time I had to head out to a client meeting in the town centre. Let me tell you, dear friends, that nothing is more crushing for the soul than visiting an up-market, couture fashion designer in her immaculate showroom-cum-office, and sitting in a plush faux-regency chair looking like a bedraggled, scraggy headed, drowned ratbag.

The designer was lovely, one of those attractive, well-put together equestrian type of ladies. She obviously cared a lot about appearance (a sweeping judgement I made on the basis of a) her being a couture fashion designer and b) having obviously had a little 'work done') and whilst I hadn't made much of an effort to look like I wasn't sartorially challenged, I hadn't planned to go to the meeting with mascara dripping off my nose and my hair in sodden, wavy little clumps, plastered to my head.

I felt very envious, actually, once I got over my inadequacy. The designer just seems to have such a lovely job. She has a lovely plush office, can design all her own beautiful clothes, she had her white fluffy dog pottering around the office (I mistook him for a rug at first) and her jackets sell for about £600 a pop. And the thing that really got me is that she doesn't actually make any of her clothes herself!! She said that she can barely sew a button on. A seamstress does it all for her.

If I'd known that you didn't have to be able to sew to be a fashion designer then maybe I could have realised all of my childhood dreams.

Although probably not. When I told mum I wanted to be a fashion designer when I was younger, she said “you do realise that it's very competitive, don't you?” And I gave it all up there and then. Competitive? Hard work? Pah. Not for me thanks. I'll get me a job in a University.

I joke. The past week and a bit has been so busy at work that sometimes I don't even remember which town I live in.

Anyway. I walked home from work and got hailed on. (As in big painful lumps of ice fell on my face, not someone hailing me like I was a miserable, wet taxi). Then I went to choir practice, and managed to feel inadequate all over again!! I don't know the words to any of the songs, and I don't know the tunes to some of the songs, and the big show in front of 220 people (and counting) is in 10 days. And today Esther said “that's it, we're not sending out any more vocal guides – if you don't know the songs by now you never will.” Incorrect, Esther!! I do all of my best learning the night before something is due!

I was feeling a bit stressed as we were running through a tricky song, and getting a bit flustered. I briefly put my pen lid in my mouth, and just as we were about to start “ooh-ing” a rousing crescendo, I sighed heavily and accidentally whistled very loudly through the pen lid. People looked at me like I was a child playing with maracas in the corner of a grown-up party. Apart from my pals in the altos, who ended up with a fit of the giggles and we had to start all over again. For the fifteenth time.

But it doesn't matter, I will almost certainly master all sixteen songs by a week Saturday, including the song I am singing as part of a six-piece 'girl group', which after many attempts at running through it on Saturday still left Esther saying “Mmm, perhaps I'll just tell Martin you sang it really well, rather than sending him the recording.”

Much obliged.

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Radio Ga-Ga

Have I already titled a post Radio Ga-Ga? Who cares?

Two things I have learned from Radio 2 this evening:

Thing One

Apparently the decade in which people are happiest is in their 70s. That's nice, isn't it? That's something to look forward to for most of us. It makes sense to me, 70 year olds and kids, I would have thought would score highest for happiness. Teenagers are angsty and hormone filled, they don't have time to be happy, they are too busy gossiping, stressing about being unpopular or sleeping. In your twenties there is a lot of pressure to be having a good time and making the most of your looks and high-functioning metabolism and suchlike – it's actually quite hard to enjoy things like that when everyone keeps telling you that soon both those things WILL BE GONE, GODDAMMIT, AND THEN HOW WILL YOU MAKE PEOPLE LIKE YOU?!

Ahem. Anyway, once you get into your thirties there's all the marriage and babies schizzle going on – if it's happening to you then most of your capacity for pleasure goes into keeping small people alive and if it's not, then you just feel as though you should be (even if you definitely SHOULD NOT be). More of that in your forties I guess, except that some people then have to deal with the tedium of things like being school governers and stuff, and trying to climb the career ladder as far as possible. Fifties – I don't know, I'm just using my parents as an example here but they are not living the carefree highlife they can but only dream of because their children keep coming back home and generally costing them money. Things probably start to get good in your sixties when your kids, if you have any, get on with things themselves and stop pestering you, and maybe even provide darling grandchildren to play with – oh, and you can retire. But then there's probably that weird transition when you retire and realise that spending all of your time with your significant other is a terrible idea and that one of you should probably either go back to work or go and live somewhere else for a few months or SO HELP ME GOD WHY DID WE EVER GET MARRIED.

But by the time you reach your seventies, you're laughing! People stop expecting you to be reasonable and sensible, and that must bring with it a certain amount of freedom. Plus you've probably started to rumble along with your significant other by this point, or at least started losing your hearing enough to muffle the more annoying things they say. It's probably the turning point where you don't have to look after various family members anymore and people start looking after you.

Cracking.

Thing Two

Apparently Cadburys Creme Eggs have been modified. I don't care that much about that, but what perplexed me was the reporter who said “the shells have been replaced with standard Cadbury chocolate, rather than Dairy Milk.” Are these NOT THE SAME THING?! Is Cadbury Dairy Milk different to the chocolate you get in, say, Cadburys buttons? Or a Flake? I find this mind boggling. My friend Lexi, queen of the Dairy Milk and the first to be horrified when they changed the shape of the bar (and subsequently affecting that ever-important 'mouth-feel'), would probably look at me like I was subnormal for making such ridiculous assumptions, but seriously? Are they different? If I hadn't just committed to myself to a primarily sugar and carb free lifestyle I would go out and test this pronto, but I suppose I will just have to live my life shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

Bloody Mondelez. They'll get rid of Cadburys altogether one day in favour of cheap sh*t like the stuff they eat in America that tastes of vomit and then we can all be horrified. But it would definitely curb temptation. Because I have no desire to eat anything that tastes of vomit, even if it is in a lovely purple wrapper.

As you can tell, January is a slow month for interesting things to happen to me. They are happening all over the shop to other people, but that's not my place to blog, so…yeah.

Ooh! I want this book!

Texts from Jane Eyre and other conversations with your favourite literary characters, by Mallory Ortberg.

These are examples from her website and made me giggle:

Texts from Emma

Texts from Lord Byron (love Lord Byron!)

Texts from William Blake

I don't know if these are everyone's cup of tea. But ohhh they made me laugh.

“WOULD YOU QUESTION A WINDOW??”

Wonderful. Happy Monday, everyone!

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Ha-ha-happy!

I haven't burdened myself with New Years resolutions this year, BUT because last year was such a rich and exciting learning curve for me, I am definitely keen to continue challenging my perceptions and engaging in plenty of personal growth. One of the things I would really like to focus on this year is my happiness.

I'm a happy person. I rarely feel unhappy. I may not feel 'like a room without a roof' (does anyone, Pharrell, does anyone?), but I am mostly content, peaceful and grateful. But do you know what makes me feel particularly happy? The pursuit of increased happiness. I don't strive for spiritual awakenings, reaching nirvana whilst sat in the lotus position under an ancient oak wearing loose trousers (me, not the oak). I don't need to know the secrets of the universe. I don't need unequivocal proof of the things I believe in. All I want is to be able to face everything in my life with positivity, grace and love. I want love to be the motivating force behind everything I do. Love for other people, love for myself, love for all creatures and love for the planet I live on. I'm not ruling out tree-hugging either, because the other day I walked past a particularly old, majestic looking tree and I felt an overwhelming urge to put my hand on its gnarly trunk, close my eyes and absorb the sensation of standing still and rooted for hundreds of years. I didn't, because I was drinking a smoothie at the time and my hands were cold and the tree was in the middle of town, but these are the inexplicable urges that overwhelm me sometimes and I am not going to deny that (very eccentric) part of my self.

I am highly, highly, highly inclined to self-reflection (self-absorption, too) but am only partially good at owning the discoveries I make. There's no point hiding from your own truths though, is there? For example, one of the biggest barriers to my happiness is my fear of Bad Things. I try to be thankful every day, but sometimes I fear that I am not being thankful enough. I am worried that one day, in an instant, a Bad Thing will happen and I will look back on my present life and wonder why I didn't make the most of being as happy as I am. It's like the excellently inspiring Baz Luhrmann song, Sunscreen, says:

“Don't worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.”

That lyric sums up how I have felt since I was about 4, when for some reason fear snuck into my lovely little life and started making every moment of happiness bittersweet, for the fear that one day I might lose it.

I recognise that for me, in order to be really at peace, and really happy, I have to get to the bottom of my fear of the Bad Things. They are going to happen and I am going to have to deal with them. This sounds negative and a bit morbid, but it's not. It's human nature to live, to love and to enjoy, and it's human nature to fail, to hurt and to die. None of them are bad things. They are all just things. And they are all essential to understanding and achieving happiness. All I want is to be able to embrace them all in the same way, as I said before: with positivity, grace and love. Just have to figure out how…

I think I started this post with the intention to muse upon the importance of de-cluttering one's home, but it seems that, as always, the heart wants to write what the heart wants to write.

So! My self-discovery means that I am going to have to continue to research, read and practise a number of ways to achieve inner peace, acceptance and happiness.

And that process makes me happy.

Sometimes life is just win-win, isn't it?

(I promise not all my posts this year will be so navel-gazey. For example, I will be doing a weekly “Products What I Love” post and perhaps a monthly “Scary Thing I Have Tried This Month” feature which I am sure you will enjoy immensely. You can just ignore these kinds of things if you like. You have my blessing. I'm feeling generous.)

((I really should de-clutter my home though….))

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I Got You, Babe

Well my weekend has been just peachy and I am in complete denial that I have to return to work again tomorrow. Allow me to dwell on the past for a little longer.

The girls and I met up for our first gathering since young Joseph was born, and I was VERY excited about meeting him, and seeing how Amy and Tim are getting on as new parents. Well, they seem to have taken to it about as well as I could have imagined. No sign of stress or frazzled nerves, in fact in the whole five hours we spent with them, I saw no evidence of baby sick whatsoever and Joseph was asleep for four hours. To be honest, they made having a two and a half week old baby look extraordinarily easy.

I don't think they are the norm, I have to say. But I'll forgive them for making it look like a doddle because look how scrumptious Joseph is:

What a beaut. And he's titchy!! I've loved babies since my arms were big enough to be able to hold one (maybe even before that, if the photos of me trying to cuddle baby Loora are anything to go by) and I have to say, cwtching tiny babies now that I am at the ripe old age of 29 definitely makes my inner-Catherine start up with chants of 'Me too! Me too! I want one!' Calm down dear. All in good time. Let's see if Monty turns into a success story first, shall we?

Maybe we could pinch this one?

There's a lot of love in our little framily right now. And as with all framilies, bigger is better. I'm thinking we could maybe do with another member or two someday soon?

Just a thought.

I suppose I should start focusing on my return to work and routine, and prepare to say goodbye to shovelling in 'festive' chocolates and biscuits at all hours of the morning and night. I've already ramped up the juicing and smoothie-making, I've commenced weekly face-masks to undo two weeks of drinking and sugar consumption, and nightly meditation is making every day a little more delightful. And I'm going to attribute my lack of cold/illness/bugs for the past 12 months to my increased levels of supplementation (i certainly haven't managed to avoid being around sick people – there have been germs running riot everywhere I go!) So I will chalk that experiment up as a success and continue to shake rattle and roll with a variety of vitamins, herbs and minerals.

Just. Need. To. Stop. Eating. Cakes.

Salted Caramel Chocolate Pot from yesterday's lunch.

Like I said before though, all in good time.

Nom.

 

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Some Kind Of Wonderful

Welcome, welcome 2015, what a treat to have you in our lives. I hope you have noticed how we have purchased a new smoothie maker in your honour? And also a bag of spinach that we may use for a salad instead of just chucking it in the juicer (spinapple juice anyone?). Yeah. Team Cathralex are ready to make some changes around here.

On New Years Day I read the most wonderful book. It was in the 'health, mind and body' section on Amazon but really, it's just a beautiful, beautiful little story. It's called Wonder, by R.J Palacio, and is, I think, a children's book. But only in the way that Harry Potter was a children's book.

It tells the story of a ten year old boy called August, who looks very different from other children, as he starts mainstream school for the first time. The narrative is told from different perspectives throughout, and the story flies by. It's not a long book. If I have children, I am putting this on their compulsory reading list (of course they will have a compulsory reading list. They will love books as much as I do if it kills me) and I think you should all put it on your own compulsory reading list for 2015. It's lovely and funny and touching and heartbreaking and uplifting. And it made me cry but that doesn't tell you anything as I cry at everything these days, including both Up and The Sound Of Music yesterday. I am owning my emotions like a boss.

I am feeling really positive about this year. I have taken every bit of pressure I can imagine off my shoulders (which means I have spent a lot of time just reading and walking and pondering) and am just going to enjoy the crap out of my life this year. I may or may not attempt some new hobbies – but like I said, no pressure!

For now though, I'm going to go and delight in being with my friends, celebrating the beautiful Lizzie's birthday (you're as young as the man you feel Lizzie!!) and hopefully prising brand new Joseph off his Fraunty Jo for long enough to get some serious bonding in.

Until tomorrow, my little penguinos!

 

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