Good-bye to the Six Month Experiment - Hello to a few months more

Life, Love and the Art of Dreaming Big

That's the new blog title. Okay, it was. After taking a survey and getting some emails, I was reminded that one blog was probably enough. So I've decided to add to this one.

Chances are, I will take a break before writing my first post. (Which it turns out, I did)...

On Saturday, I leave for L.A. where I will be visiting my friend Jim for a week of surf n' turf. (Surfing the beaches n' boardwalks, while turfing this minus 30 degree weather).

So I may have to post from the Cal-I-for-NI-A.

How could I not have a good story or two about breakfast at the Fig Tree restaurant with some of Jim's film buddies?

I'll be positively bursting at the seams to share.

And if you haven't checked out Jim's blog, please do so - it's just been named one of the top 50 movie blogs by MovieMaker magazine.

This accolade will be officially announced at Sundance. That's quite an honor.

TRAVEL DAY is about pulling together an indie film and is filled with all kinds of behind the scenes look at making movies (mostly in Hollywood, both past and present).

Top 50.

That's not too shabby for a guy from Swan River who followed his dreams...

Speaking of which...

Here's a quick Six Month review and wrap-up before I say good-bye to this chapter.

What I accomplished and learned in the Six Month Experiment covering the main areas of focus:

1. finances, 2. career, 3. relationships: friends and family/love interests, 4. community-minded work (ie; giving back), 5. physical health, 6. personal, and 7. the 'fun factor'.

1. finances.

My income is the same. I'm a sub. And though my income is lower compared to those of my beloved colleagues with teaching contracts, in my humble opinion, (for my lifestyle), it's better.

Herein lies the relative income factor compared to absolute income. (see Tim Ferris' work).

I have no prepping, no marking, no grading, no report cards, no meetings, no politics, and no stress (unless you're one of those people who can't handle 6 am calls to sub in a school where you might want to bring ear plugs and a bodyguard).

But I'm cool with that.

Because at the end of the day when the bell rings, I go home and have no lingering obligations, no guilt, and whatever stress I might have had during the day, disappears like Houdini.

I equate more freedom - whether it's psychological or physical - as a positive example of the benefits of relative income. Besides, I work fewer hours, no weekends, and don't supervise extra-curricular activities.

When it comes right down to it, broken down to an hourly wage, I might actually make the same.

What did I learn?

That my quality of life is extremely important to me. More than money (once the basics are looked after).

And it's not something I will ever give up again for a few bucks more. (A million maybe, but not a few). And even then...

2. career.

On my transition to becoming a self-employed writer...

I wrote a book. Got an agent. It was officially sent to publishers on January 25, 2010 for consideration.

Things are looking up.

What did I learn?

Perseverance and patience.

That nobody owes you anything. And that you can't want something so much that it makes you miserable. Life is not about waiting, it's about being.

All you can do is work for what you want, pray like hell, and then let it go.

3. relationships: friends and family/love interests.

"Love interests" a.k.a. that 'significant other' potential remains an elusive proposition in spite of my being open-minded (and attempting some interesting date options).

I'm constantly swaying between hope and nope!

I am officially off Match.com and will attempt to work on myself a little more this spring - both in the daring department and allowing the possibility of something good to happen (as I was almost convinced otherwise).

For now, being single is a choice I embrace because I want to, not because I have to. There are lots of fish in the sea. (Trust me ladies, the possibilities are endless).

As for relations with friends and family? Better than ever. Partly because I have learned to establish some boundaries for personal space and address a problem more quickly when something is bothering me.

For example, I say "No" when my tank is empty and now do for others when I want to, not because it's part of my call to duty.

What did I learn?

Just because you say 'no' doesn't mean people will love you any less. Most people would rather you gave of yourself authentically than out of obligation. Matter of fact, it improves relations.

Just because you're choosing to stay single doesn't mean you're giving up on love - you're just taking a break from trying.

Just because you've been disappointed and it feels like that knife in your chest is there for good, it isn't.

That old feeling can come back in an instant.

Before you know it, you'll be necking in the front seat of a car like you did when you were sixteen and you'll thank God he built the human body with enough lust-induced intoxicating features that it makes tequila shots look like child's play.

It's all good...

4. community-minded work (ie; giving back) I can't honestly say I've done anything differently yet in this regard that I haven't always done.

I make a conscious effort to treat every individual with dignity, respect and non-judgement. As for the 'bigger picture'? I have yet to figure that out (and where) I need to extend myself when the time comes.

And it will come.

5. physical health

I went to the gym religiously. I got really sick. I stopped going. I'll be picking up where I left off after my vacation. And I forgive myself for my unpredictable hiatus.

I don't diet anymore. I'm simply changing my eating habits for life. As a result, I feel better, I'm just a little leaner, but I'm becoming happier dans ma peau (ie; in my own skin) as the author of "French Women Don't Get Fat" would say.

Which by the way, is a book I recommend to all women.

What did I learn?

You can't rush healing. And you have to honor your body in the process, not be mad at it for not fixing itself more quickly. After all, most of it is still working magically, there's just one part fighting like hell (on your behalf I might add), to get better. Respect it. How could you not?

And - being healthy is a process, not a goal.

6. personal

Well, I'm not fluent in Spanish as I had hoped, but it's still on my list.

I have however, begun to meditate (sometimes successfully and at other times, it's like a big joke). But I also finally realize the benefits I will receive if I at least attempt to do it on a regular basis.

I'm working on myself.

Whatever 'blocks' I had to my success - both personal and career-wise - bit me like a rattler when I was sick. Except there was no tail-shaking to warn me. It just showed up when I was at my weakest physically so I was forced to deal with it.

And it wasn't pretty.

What did I learn?

You can only ignore how you really feel about yourself (deep down inside) for so long. Sooner or later, it will affect you no matter how good you are at denial. (And believe me, I was the Queen of Da Nile).

So deal with it. If you don't, I guarantee your own subconscious will eventually paint you into a corner so you can.

7. the 'fun factor'.

I have had more fun with this experiment and in my social life this year, than I have had in a long time. Maybe ever.

It's a combination of maturation, stability, and being open to all possibilities.

I'm going to California. And I will plan at least one more big vacation this year, though the goal is four per year. One every season. I think that's reasonable.

What did I learn?

That the happier I am, the happier are those around me.

And although it sometimes feels that doing things for myself is a selfish act, it's quite the opposite. Because it reminds people that true love begins with the self.

Final thoughts...

Being joyful is infectious.

Having dreams fuels your life.

Working on them gives voice to your days.

Remember: Live well, love fully and always dream big.

See you on the next blog...

p.s. many thanks to my regular readers and Jim for his continued support...

as for my AP... well... sista, I could not have done it without you... xox

Bigger is not necessarily better... neither is having more

And I'm not just talking about food.

I remember my mom's reaction when my dad presented her with the idea that he was going to buy a 5,000 square foot house.

"Why? So I can spend even more time cleaning"?

I was twelve at the time and thought, 'What is she talking about'? But that wasn't fair because I was allergic to cleaning and wandered off whenever the opportunity to do so presented itself. I'll clean my room if you can find me hiding in the neighborhood. Good luck with that.

Besides, I wanted to spend as little time at home as possible. It was a toxic environment.

As for that big house my dad wanted? He got it.

But what he should have done is spent his money on a good marriage counsellor, personal therapy for both, and anti-depressants for mom.

Either that, or a good lawyer - you know, before buying shiny new things that only served to cover deeper problems that weren't going anywhere.

True to form, they divorced a few years later. And it wasn't pretty.

Having more, being more, doing more...

All these things are great but they are often things we do to get away from other things - like problems that should be addressed first - before we move on to 'bigger and better things'.

It's a must.

If you don't, sooner or later like a flock of vampires, these issues come out of the dark and puncture holes in your life and it all comes oozing out on that brand new hardwood floor you worked so hard to pay for - whether you like it or not.

And it's like that with other things.

Take love for instance.

If, when it comes to love (starting with your mom) you have experienced nothing but rejection, you may falsely associate love with being rejected.

If you have to work really hard at getting your parents to like you (ie; if you don't get straight A's in school, you're dirt), then chances are you will also associate love with having to work for it.

That's going to make being in a partnership really stressful.

Or it's going to make you choose someone who constantly rejects you as part of a stimulus-response package that you, yourself have programmed into this relationship because it's part of your subconscious programming on love.

But no matter how much you do for the other person, it will never be enough.

Because you don't understand that just being yourself is enough for true love. You're in a falsely programmed belief system.

So you revisit the unhealthy version, over and over and over again until you die. alone. in a rocking chair. beside an empty one covered with dust.

(Ahem)

Now take success. (After all, this is suppose to be about a Six Month Experiment to change my luck from bad to good).

If every time you tried to do something and it didn't work out: you ran out of money, circumstances changed that put a stop to it, ie; 'close but no cigar' every single time, sooner or later, a detrimental belief system would embed its way into your subconscious.

Whatever confidence you had about 'making it' would slowly be eaten away by a sea of maggots making their fat little way into that original, positive belief system about being worthy enough to secure the destiny for which you were born.

(Ahem)

And the only way to get them out is with tweezers.

One fat, little maggot at a time.

So while I was ill, I got in there and did some house-cleaning. (Or maggot-plucking as it were).

I examined every belief system I had about myself - true or false - and sought to eradicate the crappy ones with ones that would better serve me.

It's one thing to say positive things over and over and over again, but believing and knowing are two different things. I might believe that I'm worthy of true love and a successful life, but do I KNOW it?

And if I don't KNOW it, then no matter what I do, it won't work. Or if it does, it will only be temporary. Like my dad's shiny new house. And then it'll all come crashing down like a house of cards (with holes in it from vampires and maggots).

So the better part of my last six weeks has been spent eradicating what DOESN'T work and no longer serves me using some (I hope) effective methods.

Meditating was one of them. The rest, I will discuss another time.

Now, when I hit 'critical mass' and things start to shift in the direction I've been planning and working towards all my life, it won't all come crashing down.

And given that a good chunk of this six month experiment was spent examining and working through old, false belief systems to better prepare for this year, I think I might have to extend this experiment...

... For a Few Months More...

The Health Benefits of Being Sick: what I learned

For now, I'm putting my subbing stories aside. Same ol' same ol'.

Besides, it would be WAY more fun to put a hidden camera in one of those classrooms and upload it to youtube. (Let the world judge for itself the iffy results of skewed liberalism).

But chances are, I'd never work again. Blackballed as it were.

In any case, back to the matter at hand... health and the state of the union - or rather, state of mind.

Whoever said one's health is the most important thing wasn't whistling dixie (ie; they weren't engaging in unrealistic or overoptimistic fantasies - just in case you ever wondered what that meant).

The truth of the matter is, I feel way better than I have in almost six weeks. I can tell because I can once again see the humour in life.

But that was a loooooooong time to feel crappy.

However, good things have also come out of it.

For one thing, I've never been so grateful to have working lungs. (I still can't laugh without feeling like I'm coughing one up, but that's a minor inconvenience).

Normally I would think it's a major one, but since everything is relative and breathing has become a priority, I think I can live with chuckling quietly for the next little while.

And now that I feel like i'm going to live, the question invariably becomes;

What did I learn, if anything, from this experience?

So here goes...

1. I learned to slow down.

This thing wasn't going anywhere until I decided it was somehow inextricably linked not only to my weakened immune system, but to my uncontrolled mind.

You know how Monks (those pros of the meditation world) talk about all the chatter in your brain being like a tree full of monkeys?

Mine also has organgutans, chimps and silver back gorillas competing for space.

I'm about as good at meditating as an Ultimate Fighter would be at performing Swan Lake as a guest dancer for the National Ballet.

And about as happy too, (considering the costume requirements).

I've mentioned this before, but all I can think about is either my grocery list or how I'd rather be having coitus instead of looking for my third eye (I mean, I'm suppose to find that where exactly?)

Seriously, I thought. Gimme a frakkin' break.

But, I was desperate.

My breathing had become so bad, I felt like I had asthma by every evening, which exacerbated the tension in my neck, which gave me a migraine, which made me tense, which made me hyperventilate which caused me to panic, which made my breathing worse until I took more cough syrup laced with codeine and basically passed out from exhaustion.

And that was just a fake feeling better.

This prescription cough syrup contains "a narcotic cough suppressant that affects a certain part of the brain reducing the urge to cough".

In other words, you think you don't have to cough but really you do.

???

Which made me wonder, if I stop coughing after I take it, did I really need to cough in the first place?

Or if it's all in my mind, then I'm not really sick, I only think I'm sick.

But I won't get into the details of that conundrum just yet.

For now, suffice it to say that the thought that this might be true, made Alice's trip down the rabbit hole look like a walk in a gated community compared to where I ventured.

But it might also have been a blessing in disguise.

The bottom line is, I'm finally learning to meditate - with aids of course. There's nothing like a well crafted holosync meditation CD to help you get your mind out of the gutter and into a field of flowers.

2. I learned to take really good care of myself.

For the first time in my life, I didn't hold back.

If I needed a vitamin, I got it or someone got it for me.

If there was a person I could call who'd been through this and might have a few answers, I called them.

I ate healthy food, found more supplements, went to the doc's, took my meds religiously, napped, went to bed early, and put my job as mother hen on hold.

I stopped answering the phone when I was too tired to converse and I didn't force myself to either work out or work too hard.

And the biggest change of all - I told people I needed time to myself. And lo and behold, the world didn't fall apart because I wasn't there to make soup or cushion the blow of whatever current disaster befell my family.

Go figure.

3. I learned it was okay to ask others for help and not tough it out alone.

This was my favorite one.

"Can I get you anything"?

"You betcha...."

I got rid of my best friend, Pride.

I love taking care of people when they're sick. What made me think I was the only one entitled to this privilege?

Sure, I didn't let people come over and hang out with me n' my germ friends (God knows no one wants to feel guilty for sharin' the love) But besides that, I was too busy fluctuating between napping and watching mindless programming on TV.

And once I got over the utter isolation, it was awesome!

Because I gave myself complete permission to look after me. For probably the first time in my life, without guilt.

Amazing.

Next: How manifesting health can apply to well... manifesting, period.

Another day in the life of a sub....

6 a.m.

riiiiiiiiiiiiiing....

"hullo?" I said, sleepily.

"Hi, Nicole. This is the sub clerk from ----, are you available to sub anytime today?"

"Yup".

"I've got so many, what do you want? Junior high?"

"Oh God, no. Please. I've done that all week. Can you give me little kids? You know, small enough to control?"

"Sure. How about grade 3?"

"Perfect."

I mean, how hard could it be?

-------

3 hours later...

I look down at a manageable class list in a nice part of town and thanked God I had a break from older kids as it was the end of a very challenging week and I was low on energy and still not feeling 100%.

6 hours later...

I was hoarse and dumbfounded. I realized it didn't matter what age they were any more. The system just wasn't working.

kid 1: "You know you're the only sub we've had that didn't walk out of the classroom?"

kid 2: "Yeah, and the last one told us she was never coming back to this school as long as she lived!"

me: "No kidding? Gee, I wonder why"?

kid 3: "One sub even told us she was done with us and opened a book and started reading. Right in that chair! (pointing to the teacher's chair I was sitting in). We did whatever we wanted for the rest of the day".

I was nodding emphatically wishing I'd thought of that two hours ago.

kid 1: "Are you coming back? We really want you to. You're our favorite sub."

me: I dunno. You guys were pretty awful.

kid 2: Really? Are we really that bad?

me: "Actually, yeah you were. I'm not saying I don't like y'all, but man... this is not an easy class to be in and you kinda gave me a headache. I'm gonna have to think about it, but probably."

I was lying through my teeth.

I had subbed in a zoo.

Now, I know what you're thinking. They're in grade 3, how hard can it be?

But they were mean to each other, crawling over and under tables, and they didn't listen.

To ANYTHING I said.

I know I'm pretty relaxed in the classroom, but I can handle pretty much anything.

But about fifteen minutes in, I realized they were like a pack of dogs chasing each other and trying to establish leadership. And I lost it.

It was time to be ALPHA DOG.

"We are NOT going to start today off like this. YOU'VE GOT 3 SECONDS TO GET TO YOUR SEATS OR I'M KEEPING YOU IN FOR RECESS."

Thank-you Cesar Milan.

Of course it didn't last the whole day. I had a little respite when they went to gym and music, but because they were so wound up and I wasn't feeling 100%, I knew it was going to be tough to maintain my position.

Being a sub takes psychological warfare. It's not about respect anymore.

Gone are the days of order and discipline.

I was happy to sub at this particular school because it was my old school. I attended grades 4 and 5 here and I hadn't been inside since.

This was my opportunity to take a walk down memory lane.

I was however, mistaken to think it was going to have any semblance whatsoever to the good ol' days.

Way back when, I was taught by a number of teachers who had our respect - including one nun who taught catechism every day at 3 pm. You could hear a pin drop when she was in the room. That's just the way it was back then.

And I'll never forget when she told us we had it easy compared to her. It was the only time she had ever shared anything personal.

She had been born left-handed, but because it was deemed 'wrong', (something about the left being the domain of the devil), she was forced to learn to write with her other hand.

Technically, this made her ambidextrous. (By force, mind you, not like Wayne Gretzky who was born that way). But I thought it was pretty cool anyway and tried to teach myself to use my other hand as well, but that didn't last very long as I was about as coordinated as a chimp and they don't have thumbs.

And even though she was, you know, ambidextrous, I thought the reason behind it was like, REALLY stupid. I actually remember thinking who's the idiot that thought of that? I bet he wasn't left-handed, that's for sure.

Eventually, the church realized how ridiculous that rule was (more likely some new Bishop was a lefty and changed the rules) and she is now permitted to use either hand to write.

When I asked her why she didn't use her left hand, she just shrugged and said, "I did it for so many years, it's just a habit now."

Yep. This class wasn't like that.

It was the closest thing to the animal kingdom you can get.

And the last thing you should do is get into a power struggle with someone - especially when they're any age under 14, subject to a mob mentality, surrounded by a pack, and you're feeling 'off'.

When you're tired or drained, (emotionally or physically) being in a classroom of kids is like being in the wild. They're instinctual. If they think you're scared, they'll pounce.

If they think you're sick or tired, you're dead.

If you're insecure, you're finished.

You might as well call down to the office and tell them they need to find someone else for the afternoon.

Last year, when I came to school tired and the secretary would say, "Morning Nic, how are ya"? I'd say:

"I'm exhausted. They're gonna go for the jugular today. God be with me."

So I did my best.

I have my methods.

When I meet a bully, I pull him aside and tell him he wasn't born like that, so why is he pretending to be mean now?

That in the end, whatever he does to someone else that's rotten will start to manifest as bad luck. That it's a universal law.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

"So the next time you do something mean to someone, don't think about how you're going to get out of it or lie to your parents, or handle the principle and don't even think about how it's hurting someone else.

It's not about them kid, this is about you. So ask yourself if you want bad luck to follow you for the rest of your life. Then you might think twice about hitting him at recess.

And remember. The same is true when you're nice to someone else. Good things start to happen to you."

For whatever reason, telling them about karma always works. (At least for the rest of the day).

It's not guilt. It's not telling someone they're bad just because they did something wrong (or are born left-handed). Guilt, imposed or otherwise, never works properly because they are told to correct their behavior - it comes from the outside.

And that can never be sustained.

But telling them they have a choice and in the end, are the only ones it will affect, might. It's an egocentric age. The world revolves around them, so should their actions.

Taking responsibility for your actions should be taught early on.

I only wish the school system implemented philosophical/spiritual teachings right from the start.

We wouldn't be in this pickle...

A day in the life of a sub...

Given that I'm tired of examining every single life lesson (that may or may not be true) which invariably accompanies every glitch in the road to my success (and recovery from illness no less), I thought I'd lighten things up a bit over the next week or so and share with you a few episodes of:

A Day in the Life of a Sub

Monday I worked in Junior High. Or as I like to call it, "Lord of the Flies".

For those of you out of the loop, that's grades 7 & 8 (roughly 12 and 13 years old).

Things were clipping along as usual... by 2 pm my throat was hoarse, there were a few paper airplanes on the ground, general insults had made their way back and forth across the room and a couple kids had laughed themselves to the floor.

But around 3:10 pm, some kid who had been aimlessly wandering the hallways all day -(I kid you not, and with no consequences) - stuck his head in my classroom door and chucked an iceball at some poor unsuspecting kid and got him right in the head.

I'd say it was a good shot, but it was also pretty hard to miss considering the kid was sitting two feet from the door.

Nothin' personal. He just happened to be in target range of where this criminal-in-the-making couldn't possibly miss his shot.

As this power-packed weapon rolled its way towards my feet (the thing did NOT break I swear), I looked up and said, "What the..."!?

"This is a FRAKKIN' ICEBALL!"

Like an audience at a tennis match, all the kids' heads turned in my direction.

Some even contemplated naming the culprit. I could see it in their eyes, but they couldn't figure out which was worse - ratting out one of their own or maintaining this vow of silence so inexplicably agreed upon during the adolescent years.

So I relieved them of the burden.

"It was that little --(muffled swear)-- wandering the halls wasn't it?

They nodded.

I grabbed my evidence and walked over to the poor, unsuspecting walking hormone who got nailed.

"You okay"?

"Yep. Didn't hurt at all", he said, "It just bounced right off me."

Gotta love the false bravado of twelve year old boys, I thought as I squeezed the lump in my hand to no avail. It was like a rock alright.

"Sure thing kid." I said in collusion knowing his pride was at stake. Besides, it was only 20 minutes 'til end of day. In half an hour, he'd be home nursing that growing egg with a bag of ice and weeping quietly in his room.

I stormed out and saw the sociopath, sheepishly walking towards the end of the hall.

"If you're gonna hurt people", I yelled at him, "why don't you just go home"?

He took that as permission to leave the school and went to his locker to put his jacket on while I stormed in the other direction to the office, where I slammed the ice ball down on the counter.

"Look", I said, "I know this kid wanders around all day, but this? This is too much."

Nothing came of it.

It rarely does.

But at least he didn't call me a bitch! like that kid did in grade 6, who flipped me the bird, then told me to "SUCK ON THIS ONE!"

Or the kid in grade 4 who was so violent the division psychologist told the school there was nothing they could do: "Just let him do what he wants. But assign an instructional assitant to him full-time so he doesn't hurt anyone."

Riiiiiiiiiiiight.

What better, safer place to breed sociopaths than a permissive, public school?

Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of great public schools. And I like subbing. It's highly entertaining. But it's a different animal altogether from having your own classroom.

As a classroom teacher, there's a good chance I would eventually get fired because I would yank a bully into the hallway by his ear and make him call his grandma and tell her what he did.

Let her deal with it.

And this is not to say there aren't a lot of great public schools that do their bit and tolerate very little in the way of behavioral issues.

But, the impetus is on 'letting things slide' because the kid's 'got issues at home'.

I got news for them. This is not tolerance or compassion, it's called ENABLING.

And they're only making things worse.

But at least it makes for a lot of good stories...

Travelling (no matter what)... but first...

You can read about it, you can talk about it, you can even blog about it, but at some point, you have to do something about it.

What am I talking about?

Everything. In this case, my health.

Now, based on my normal output (for life in general, not just blogging) I know I've been sliding a bit (I had more hopes of conquering the world by now - at least the inner one), but as luck would have it, I ended up with this bacterial/viral thingy that's turned my six month experiment into more like a Sick Month Experiment.

I'd like to document every single method I've used - both traditional and natural (including psychological/spiritual) to heal myself but frankly, I don't know how to turn my keyboard into chinese letters so I can list the items from the Chinese store.

And frankly, I don't know how to explain this whole Deepak Chopra belief system(among many others) without listening to the sounds of my fingers typing on the keyboard while a voice inside my head screams: Stop! Get real sister!.

But what the hell, here goes anyways...

There is no pathogen that exists in this universe, which attaches itself to us, that does not have our permission to do so in the first place.

Say what???

In other words, I got sick, because on some level I either manifested it (ie; attracted it), or as Deepak would say, I agreed to it.

After all, we're in a co-creative universe.

I know what you're thinking because I'm thinking the same thing.

But it's interesting food for thought nevertheless.

The thing is... if you believe something to be true in one area of life, then in order for it to be a rule, it has to hold true in other areas as well.

Science dictates that a Law is not law if there exists an exception to the rule.

So... logic tells me, if I believe I am responsible for everything - which is what I've been propounding for these last few months (re: the quality of my life, the nature of my experiences, yadda yadda yadda) then that also hold true regarding my health.

Holy shit.

I'm at fault for being sick.

So that leaves me in a pickle. Because either:

1) I agreed to be sick for whatever reason and that's just stupid - nobody wants to be sick. (Well, some people do because they like the attention but I won't get into that right now. The extreme version of these people are called hypochondriacs).

2) Something I did, said, thought, or acted, resulted in my manifesting this particular illness. (Definitely a possibility)

or...

3) I've agreed (as part of this collectively manifested matrix we live in), that once in a while, as human beings we are going to get sick. Especially if we live in this godforsaken cold weather.

In other words, I get sick because I'm bound to - at least once in a while. It's a collectively accepted truth.

And what if I didn't accept it as truth? I mean REALLY rejected it. With every ounce of my being? With a knowing that exceeded the faith of an Avatar?

Does that mean I'd never get sick because I wasn't part of that faulty belief system?

Yep. Sheesh. That's a tough red pill to swallow. (Matrix reference).

In any case, the point is... even medicine has begun to accept that there is a huge link between thinking and illness.

People who laugh more, live longer, and are sick less often. As do most people who generally have a positive outlook on life.

Chinese medicine believe that different parts of our bodies are the seat of various emotions and when those emotions are out of balance, our internal organs get 'sick'.

(For a western take - paralleling the Chinese) - check out Louise Hay, Heal Your Body. Once you go through your list of ailments and their corresponding emotions, if you have the wherewithall to connect them to a particular time or incident in your life, you may find it to be eerily accurate.

For example, the Chinese say that your lungs holds grief, while your liver is the seat of anger.

Therefore, whatever emotions you do not work through or process properly get buried in their corresponding organs and become manifested in your body as illness.

Apparently, I process everything through my body.

And this area in particular is lung-related. Ie; grief.

But for what?

Working with this concept with an open mind is vitally important to me as I am a firm believer that as whole human beings we can't diagnose an ailment in isolation. Even if I did contract bronchitis (which I did), there's no reason why it should have lasted this long.

And it's popped up twice in the last two months. The second time, far worse.

So I've been looking at contributing factors that go beyond the physical...

Obviously something deeper is getting in the way.

The only thing I can even remotely come up with, is that in the last couple of months, I've actually fully accepted the fact that I am likely to remain single forever.

And suddenly, I'm fine with it. At least consciously.

I'm even finding it a preferrable alternative.

And it's not that I don't date. I do. I love men. (sigh).

I just have this belief - false though it may be - that there is no one out there right for me. And quite right doesn't cut it.

Could that be the cause of my grief?

I was really sad after my last dating spell back in October. Brief though it was, I swung from hopeful to disillusioned in one fell swoop and as a result, it somehow had a damaging impact on me, far more than I care to admit.

But it was not an isolated incident. It was simply the straw that broke the camel's back.

Oh, I'll get back on the camel. I always do. But suddenly, it's with a more flippant attitude - que sera sera n' all that jazz.

Perhaps that is the price my generation (who is trying to get it right a second or even third time around) is willing to pay - we won't settle.

But then again, anything really worth having is also worth waiting for.

Or is it grief because I've given up and I don't want to try anymore?

If I never engage, I can't get hurt or disillusioned, or disappointed.

One thing's for sure. I'm overanalyzing.

Time for more aspirin...

What better way to end the first week of January than...

...swig more codeine-laced cough syrup and down my last Azithromycin tablet.

Yep. I am still really sick.

I mean what the *&#*^, is going on???

I swear, the only thing keeping me from crossing over (if-you-know-what-I-mean) is Alexander Fleming's little accidental invention - PENICILLIN.

Thank-you Mr. F. Or rather, Sir Fleming. (I dare say he deserves that knighthood more than Elton John - no offense to the king).

Yessirree. I attribute my being alive to two things - Alex Fleming and indoor heat.

No wonder most of those early Canadian settlers died over winter, (poor bastards).

It's not that I haven't improved mind you...

I feel pretty good in the morning, (gone are the days of dry-coughing 'til tears run down my cheeks and I have to cross my legs so I don't pee myself from the force),

but then I step outside...

... and that cold air hits my lungs like a jackhammer.

Within fifteen minutes, my body is in shock and my breathing shallows in an effort to avoid the deeper ones that bring with them spasms of pain and more leg crossing.

And old man winter is there to remind me who's boss. All ye, bow to mother nature.

But I'm gonna do something our forefathers could never do in this great country of ours way back in the 1800's when they got sick.

I'm gonna bugger off to California at the end of the month for a week. What better way to end the Six Month Experiment?

Who's laughing now, eh? Old Man WINTER?

So really, I have no cause to complain.

All I have to do between now and then is get better.

Next - The importance of taking trips...

What better way to start the first week of January than...

...swig some codeine-laced cough syrup while downing an Azithromycin tablet.

Aye. For once, I am really sick.

(So much for saying, "Aw gee, sorry you feel so awful. I can't remember the last time I was sick"! in front of someone with more sniffles than a German Shepard at the Mexican border).

Braggers beware - after years without so much as a tiny recollection of being flat on your back with a cold or the flu, it is possible that one day, you too will be reminded of how fragile it is to be human.

The good news is, my immune system should to be stronger afterwards. And now that I've been there, done that, I can get on with the business of manifesting because I won't get sick again for like, a year.

Okay, more like 6 weeks (or so they say).

I just wish it had been the stomach flu - that would have only lasted two days and performed the double duty of dispensing with those additional Xmas pounds while detoxing my body in a way that diet pills only dream of doing (if only causing stomach cramps, projectile vomiting and giving one Montezuma's revenge were legal side effects).

But it's all good now.

Almost.

I still hear that god-awful gurgling sound when I lie down... and then the wheezing starts.

As I roll from side to side, trying to get to sleep, my chest becomes a symphony of phlegm-induced noises that leaves me hallucinating that some sinister orchestra is trying to play Mozart's requiem in my chest.

And the entire string section is on acid.

Still, I managed to get real help a mere two weeks after this infection began. I guess I just couldn't take choking in my sleep anymore.

(Better late than never I say).

So it's all good now. Or At least it will be soon.

And next time I'm this sick, I won't go to the outdoor driving range to hit some golf balls in JANUARY IN WINNIPEG - the coldest city in the world with a population of over 1/2 million - even if they do have vents blowing hot air.

Hot air my ass. My lungs didn't agree.

This year, I vow to listen to my body, voice my needs more clearly and make others pay attention when I know what is best for me.

That's part of manifesting too.

Being heard... stating what you want, what you need, what you don't need and what you wish to change.

Knowing what's good for you, knowing when you're burning out and knowing when to draw the line. And voicing it.

But that means taking full responsibility.

And sometimes that entails (what we think) is hurting other people's feelings in the process.

But in the end, it doesn't matter. Besides, if they're really your friends they can take it.

All that matters is that you learn to trust you instincts. And if your instincts tell you to put the brakes on - whether it's because you're sick or something else - then you better damn well listen or you will suffer the consequences.

I can't continue with this experiment in all its glory if I can't put my foot down when I need to! It's like spinning my wheels!

I have a mere three weeks to go in this Six Month Experiment. I was hoping to finish with a bang, but it looks like I still have some old patterns that need tweaking.

Thankfully this experience gave me more than just phlegm. (The bronchitis that is, not the experiment). It taught me another lesson.

I learned that if you don't take care of yourself, nobody else will. If you don't think your health is important enough to say 'no' to something, then nobody else will either.

The lesson is: you draw unto you experiences that mirror your level of committment to yourself.

No more, no less.

If I wanted people to care that I'm sick - and I mean to really care (you know, be sensitive enough to recognize what is in my best interest) - it must first begin at home - ie; with me.

So, if I made myself sicker in the process by not recognizing this truth, then so be it. I deserve it.

It was a lesson worth learning at the beginning of what I imagine is going to be a fabulous year.

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Next - Back to basics: the process begins... again...

New Year's Eve 2009... the end of a decade...

This year, I promised myself - months ago - that I would not sit home, rent a movie and pop in a deep dish pizza on New Year's Eve.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Last year, I watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall with my AP while I planned how things were going to be different in 2009 - I was going to have more fun and get more stuff done that personally meant something to me... like write a book.

It was an awesome night because I literally laughed my way into 2009. And it proved to be great medicine for a year that had been quiet and contemplative.

But this year, a movie was out of the question. There was too much to celebrate.

Nor did I wish to play cards with my parents while taking shots of whatever liquor there was in the house.

Not that there's anything wrong with that either.

But like I said to my stepmom:

"No offense Ma, but... I just can't spend New Year's Eve with you guys playing cards. And I don't see myself playing Kinsman Jackpot Bingo again next Saturday either."

Not that there's anything wrong with either of those.

She just laughed and said:

"Good".

Because she understands.

It's New Year's Eve.

And this year it was particularly auspicious because not only were we ushering in a new decade, but...

1. It was a full moon.

2. It was a blue moon (two full moons in the same calendar month - the last one that occured on New Year's Eve was in 1990, the next one will be in 2028).

3. It was also a lunar eclipse - the first one to take place on New Year's Eve in 353 years.

Call me superstitious but WOW.

If the National Geographic AND the L.A. Times are writing about these galactic events then maybe I wasn't that crazy to think that this New Year's Eve I should convince my friends to attend some sort of a formal gathering dressed in as much bling as we could muster on short notice.

After all, the next biggie will occur on New Year's Eve 2012. That's three years away. Given all the build up, the entire planet will no doubt be partying that we actually made it to 2013.

I'm gonna have to start planning for that one like, NOW.

And that party's gonna make every other New Year's Eve bash look like the birthday parties in a Jehovah's Witness family. (And for those of you who don't know, they don't celebrate birthdays).

Oh yeah, 2012 is gonna be somethin' else.

Everyone will be breathing a sigh of relief that we made it through all those Nostradamus predictions and horrible, fear-mongering specials on T.V. that predict the end of the world without so much as a glimmer of conscience as to what it might do to the psyche of the general population that seem to crave drama in their lives to function, let alone for entertainment.

But I digress. Back to New Year's Eve 2009...

We (me n' my two girlfriends) entered our evening with great flair and anticipation, hot curling our hair, donning our frocks with panache, covered in bling and wearing shoes that were bound to hurt our feet after the first hour.

We were doing it up right.

The idea was to dazzle each other and perfect strangers with engaging conversation, star-worthy attitudes, Ginger Rogers dancing finesse and a general sense of well-being that exclaimed (without a hint of reservation):

LOOK OUT 2010! I'M READY FOR YA!

Well, the party I chose was forwarded to me by a dear friend, whom I trust implicitly.

Well, at least I DID.

There were to be singles galore, it was at a nice venue and the dance was reasonably priced.

Perfect.

And it wasn't so much the singles venue as the fact that it was a 'formal' occasion. Not a bar, not a house party, and not a 7/11. (And yes, sadly I've been at one of those buying chips n' a coke when the clock struck twelve).

And best of all, given that this was a last minute decision, there were still tickets available.

Perfect.

Or was it? Maybe that should have been my first clue. I am however, an eternal optimist.

As we made our grand entrance, the scene before us turned out to be... slightly different than any pre-conceived notions I had that I'd missed my calling as the New Year's Eve version of a great wedding planner.

We walked into senior night at the prom.

And I'm not talkin' grade 12.

Now, I'm no spring chicken, but I think I'll let another woman's comment (who was my age) speak for me:

"I don't know about you guys, but I feel like a newborn out there," she said, in the washroom while reapplying her lipstick to impress God-knows-who.

But once the shock wore off - which took all of 5 minutes and one drink - we had a marvelous time.

Because really, it doesn't matter where you are. All that matters is who you're with and what you make of it.

And that's the truth.

The funny thing is, all of us who had made a point of going out that night because we wanted to be 'with the girls' were all texting and phoning the people that mattered to us at midnight to celebrate the New Year with them anyway.

Ain't that the way it goes :)

-----

Cheers to the magic of 2010!

Next - getting down to business - the experiment continues