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

The importance of Rituals - Part III - my birthday ritual

The thing is, it really doesn't matter what you do.

All that matters is that you set aside a little space, make your intentions clear, go to it and have the courage to be honest about what you want - with no regard to whether other people will think the dreams you have are silly, unrealistic or better left in fairytale ville.

And remember, it's suppose to be fun.

So screw those naysayers and that overrated, annoying internal dialogue of munchkins telling you it's time to be 'realistic' at the ripe old age of n (that's algebra for all you non-math types).

(By the way, that's how old I am, in case you were wondering).

Anyway, when I sat down to write my letter to Damabiah (that's the angel assigned to me according to the kabbalah and based on my date of birth) and I started to make fun OF MYSELF for this exercise, I said aloud...

"Shut your traps, you subconscious warfaring bubble-bursting miscreants"!

... and felt much better.

Further more, don't feel despair over goals not achieved, (as I did) and permit yourself to be forthright with your angels, your guides, or whoever else you call upon to assist you in the coming year.

And expected the miraculous.

DREAM BIG.

This year, I set 20 minutes aside from my party (and Xmas) and went to my apartment for a little 'me' time.

For those of you unawares, I live in the same building as my Dad and stepmom. While this often leads to exclamations of 'ewwwwwwwww' from some, the truth of the matter is, it rocks (for the most part - I have yet to bring a date home but I do go upstairs and help myself to their cheese their vacuum all the time).

Anyway, while everyone was still playing cards, Wii and enjoying a variety of libations in my honor (the best excuse EVER), I snuck back to my apartment to light a candle and write a letter.

Here's what it said:

Dear Damabiah,

Pleased to make your acquaintance after all these years.

I wish I had known of your existence way back when but it never occured to me to check the rules and regs of the Kabbalah (considering I was a Catholic n' all). Go figure.

Truth be told, you could have made your presence known to me in a blazing flash of light at the foot of my bed when I was GOING THROUGH HELL - that would have been kinda cool - but whatev, water under the bridge.

Anyway, it's all good.

As you probably know, today is my birthday. (I dare say you do know considering you were assigned to me and I didn't know about it and you did this whole time, but I digress)...

I also heard that you angels don't have a sense of humor, so I'll get right down to business.

First of all, thanks for being there.

I know I know, considering my caddy remarks above you're thinking, "riiiiiiiight" but seriously, I'm lucky to be alive on so many counts, the only thing I can attribute this good fortune to is you and your legion of winged buddies.

(I owe ya one).

Anyway, as I said before it's my birthday. Here's my wishlist:

yadda yadda yadda
blah blah blah
yadda yadda yadda
blah blah blah

And just so you know, this list comes with a disclaimer...

If I get all the things that I wish for and start acting like an asshole, you can take them away.

Except maybe for that BMW - I'd like to keep that as a freebie. I think that's reasonable. You know, for all those years I didn't know of your existence.

I any case, I promise to be the best person I can and in the end, I only truly desire those things that are beneficial to my evolution as a human being.

(And I mean that).

Love from the bottom of my heart n' soul,
Nicole

p.s. Are you a guy in white tights and abs to die for?

-----
Then I blew out my candle and went back to my party.

Next: Bringing in the New Year in style!

The Importance of Rituals - Part II -first, a little friendly advice and how to find your angel

Don't cut your own hair.

You know... as part of a ritual. Like I did.

Before I get started on this whole ritual business and what I did on my b-day, I wanted to share that little tidbit because I just looked in the mirror at my haircut and realized that I... look...

...wrong... just plain wrong.

You know, like some throwback to the 80's. (Like that chick in the photo).

All I'm missing to finish this A-line frizzy hair look are some shoulder pads and a lot of blush. It's the same look I had in my grade 12 photo.

I should have gone to my barber.

(That's right, I go to a barber. At least I did six years ago which was the last time I let someone else cut my hair).

Or better yet, I should have left my hair alone.

But I couldn't help it.

When I got out of the shower earlier that day and realized that my ends were so brittle they had insta-dried, I knew it was time to chop chop chop.

Now I might be feeling like this because my jowls are still swollen from my lingering bronchitis and my eyes are peepholes constantly in the process of expansion but I can't say fer shur.

And to make matters worse, I've never liked the visual effects of my clothes (and face) feeling 'xmas tight' (which always gives me postsantum depression)- but I could be wrong.

All I know is I looked in the mirror and didn't like what I saw.

And it didn't matter how much I fussed with it, or put pins in it, or sprayed it, or pulled it back, it still looked like I butchered it.

I figure once my hair is feeling less stressed over the whole thing, it will spring back to its regular state but for now, I'll just have to live with it.

But perhaps what surprised me the most as I stood there dissatisfied for probably the millionth time in my life, is what a royal waste of time my vanity was causing me. And what an unnecessary amount of psychological discomfort.

After all, the damn stuff is gonna to grow back.

And here I am, talking about rituals and the importance of INTERNAL growth as good for your soul.

Sheesh. I'd call myself a hypocrite except I don't think it counts if you bust yourself early enough in the process of being exactly the opposite of what you've been advocating.

Or does it?

Anyway, whatever.

It did however, bring to mind a thought that left me feeling warm and fuzzy.

According to the Kabbalah, I have an angel called Damabiah who doesn't give a rat's ass what I look like and loves me anyway. He was assigned to me on my birth day.

"Ain't that right 'Bi"?

Check these out:

http://guideangel.com/

http://www.ucm.ca/en/traditionalstudyofangels/how-to-find-your-birth-angels.html

Now, I've never been into angels, though at one time or another I think we all secretly hope those winged men and women in white, (FYI- I hope mine's a guy in white tights who works out all the time), will be there to bail us out when we really need it).

But again, that's not the point.

For those of you who have been reading this blog, you'll know I don't subscribe to any particular religion (or their formal rituals), but I do take bits from different spiritual belief systems and incorporate them as I see fit.

This fits. And I used it on my birthday.

What I like about the first website is how the main page explains how different cultures/religions of the world acknowledge different levels of 'being'.

If not specifically 'spirit beings', then at least something resembling a hierarchy (either within us or without) which either assists us, or helps us aspire to become God-like.

It could be angelic beings, devas, or even our own internal system of chakras whose activation leads us upwards on a path of spiritual ascension.

But chakra activation seems awfully complicated to me.

And I really suck at meditating.

God knows I've tried.

And I'll bet my crystal rosary the Big Guy spent all his time either laughing at me or shaking his head in disbelief at how easily I give up, (or how every time I try, all I can think about are grocery lists, how I should be going to the gym more regularly or how wish I was having sex instead).

Yeah, it's BAD.

But that's okay, cuz I have my own Angel, and nobody can take that away from me.

The thing is, I'm not psssss-ychic. I don't see shit.

Nor do I hear things. Or know things. I have an intuition like everybody else, (which I've frequently ignored and suffered because of it) but that's not the point.

I like to think of angels as valid and real because it makes me happy to do so.

And the fact that the Kabbalah has this down to a science, pleases someone like me to no end.

All I had to do was plug in my D.O.B. and WALLA!!! Angel city!

Suddenly, I had someone (or something - I hear they're adrongynous), that I could put a name to and address when I have a question (or when I'm pissed, or happy or depressed, or need to beg for a favor).

It was perfect.

So I wrote Damabiah a letter on my birthday.

In my next post, I'm going to share a little bit of that letter with you and the simple process that was my b-day ritual (which I promise does not involve any five-pointed stars on my living room floor surrounded by thousands of burning candles or the blood of defenseless animals).

Until next time...
Happy Angel hunting!

The importance of rituals - Part I - the general idea

Rituals are the cornerstone of our civilization.

And what's more, we are surrounded by evidence of ritualistic functions all around us. They appear constantly in our day-to-day lives and their importance cannot be overstated.

Whether we are aware of them or not however, is another matter. We partake in most rituals because it's a social expectation.

In other words, we do it, because that's what people do.

We all know the big ones - birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, funerals...

These 'official' proceedings mark beginnings, endings, and offer signposts when dates pertaining to other memories fail us - a practicality more valuable with each passing year.

Unrelated events surrounding the date of someone's birth, death, marriage or even divorce are remembered with greater clarity because of them.

They're like the markers of our lives.

But those are just some of the ones that denote us as a civilized species.

There are other rituals that bind us even closer and serve a multitude of functions from acknowledging our interdependence to expressing milestones of personal growth.

These rituals are void of pomp and circumstance yet are no less vital in the grand scheme of things...like;

Going for coffee.

Funny as it sounds, I learned this from a brilliant English prof I once had. And to prove his point, he simply said:

"Think about it. Nobody says, 'Do you want to go for a soft drink?', they say, 'Let's go for coffee' because it's one of our rituals. It doesn't matter if you go for beer or if one of you has tea instead. That's not the point."

Suddenly, I knew what he meant. And it was one of the most significant learning experiences of my life.

In that moment, I realized the true significance of rituals and their importance in our society.

I understood that rituals are a collective standard by which we connect with one another. It means far more than its outer shell reveals.

For instance,'Going for coffee' really means:

'Let's catch up', 'I want to talk with you', 'I need to see you', 'I miss you' and 'I care'...

ie: 'Let's connect.'

Our lives are filled with these.

We have 'movie night', 'date night' - specific times we set aside regularly for doing things with certain people that give our lives meaning, yet don't actually have any impact on our careers or finances.

But they impact us on a personal one.

And then there are things we do, just for us...

These rituals are all about us honoring the relationship we have with ourselves - and perhaps even the Universe...

When we have a birthday, or graduate from a course we might get a haircut or a 'new look' to mark the beginning of a new era. Why not stay with an old look? Or wear that gorgeous dress we already own?

Because we honor the new. We are making a statement with our choices about where we've come from and where we're going.

And sometimes it works both ways - to mark the good things, and to put the past behind us.

We'll get a new look after we've dealt with a bad break-up as a sign that we are ready to begin anew...

We get new shoes for a hot date (or to forget the old one), find a new outfit for that important party (where someone we want will be there or perhaps someone we don't want to see), get a manicure, or buy a new shade of lipstick.

When we decide to quit smoking or join a gym, we don't do it randomly.

We pick a date, mark the upcoming event and count down the days.

Who quits smoking on a Friday?

Nobody.

Chances are, they picked a more significant date like:

... the first of January... at the beginning of next month... on my birthday... as soon as the holidays are over... when I'm finished this project... after my last exam... or even... on Monday - the start of the week...

Whether we are aware of it or not, we turn the things that mean something to us into a ritual.

Today, I cut my hair and colored it. Normally I would have done it in time for my birthday but I was too sick to bother. And I did it myself... as I always do.

It's part of my ritual...

But for all the rituals we participate in - every single one of us - we often neglect the introspective ones that count the most.

While we're busy with our new looks, our obsession with dates, and our long-term plans, sometimes, we forget that our own birthdays and the end of each year are also a time for personal reflection... one done without the fanfare of cakes and candles, parties and alcohol...

(Not that I'm against a good party or consuming alcohol)

All I'm saying is it's important to implement personal rituals that are specifically designed to help us grow in awareness of who we are.

And that means formally acknowledging where we've been, where we are, and where we want to go in life...

and next time, I'll share what it is I did for twenty minutes on my birthday and what I plan to do on New Year's Eve.

And just remember, there are no rules...

It's whatever floats your boat...

Kingsman Jackpot Bingo, Bernard Callebaut and random thoughts...

Some people go shopping on Boxing Day.

Others, well, they have more 'family' to visit, more turkey to gobble up, and more bevvies to consume.

And if you're Ukrainian, the party's only just beginning.

But me?

I played Kinsman Jackpot Bingo.

Yep. You heard right.

I think it might be the oldest Bingo game in Manitoba. Maybe THE WORLD, because as y'all know, I had a birthday just yesterday and that officially makes me old as dirt so I know these things.

(Unless dirt is new, then that just makes me a liar.)

In any case, I was four numbers away from a full house and a two thousand dollar jackpot. That is, until some jackass called in and claimed the prize.

(Cheater)

But then again, I hear that happens all the time. (Being four numbers away that is, not the cheating part).

That would drive me crazy week after week. I would develop a tick.

And although it was fun watching my Dad find and stamp his numbers like a bingo sharp-shooting champ while yelling "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT LAST NUMBER AGAIN"??? every single time, I was worried.

Not for him. He's got life down pat.

But for me.

Yep it was fun.

But it's also Saturday night.

I should be out. But I'm playing bingo.

I am however, still recovering physically from something in my chest that's acting like a recently divorced relative pretending to visit for the weekend while they're dragging 3 suitcases and two trunks through your front door.

It feels like it's never leaving. And it's wiped me out. So Bingo was right up my alley.

Don't get me wrong. Being sick doesn't bother me. Not going out doesn't bother me. Oh no, it's far worse than that when you're a control freak.

It's not having the choice that's irritating me.

I feel the way a shopaholic might feel following a nightmare that all the stores are closed on Boxing day.

I'm not well enough to leave my place for a couple of days. It's in my best interest to stay put. And really, I like staying put... when it's self-imposed and not externally, like from some stupid bronchitis.

pshaw.

But yesteray was grand...

Dinner was fab... French Seafood boullabaise... enough shrimp preceding to satisfy a beluga whale, and Mexican Payaya which is a combination of seafood, meats and saffron rice.

I always want to call it Mexican peyote, but that's a drug and we don't do that in my family.

Although it might spice things up during Kingsman Jackpot Bingo. But I digress.

I confess I have this tendency to call things by wrong names. It's becoming a problem...

Like... I call Bernard Callebaut chocolates Maurice Chevalier chocolates as if the terms are interchangeable, which somehow makes me think I should be reading mentally stimulating material more often as I think my brain is getting lazy.

And I refuse to say the name properly because I like the one I chose better.

Like I said, I'm a control freak.

And for those of you unfamiliar with Bernard's chocolaterie (as I was until about two months ago), here's their website:

http://www.bernardcallebaut.com/

Worth trying to be sure, but frankly, if I had to pick, I'd rather buy shoes at Winner's for fifty bucks than spend it on something that's going to make me gain the weight I'm constantly trying to lose.

That's just cruel.

The truth of the matter is, when I get a box of them they don't last the day.

On top of being a control freak, I have no self-control...

And I'm whiny.
And i'm down on myself today.

But it's all good because tomorrow is a new day and I'm going to talk about the importance of ritual. I always do something on my birthday and again on New Year's. Similar stuff... most people don't understand the significance of ritual.

It's the mark of a civilized society... and I'm going to explain why...

A demain...
for now, I'm going to dream about Maurice Chevalier and the wonderful chocolates he makes.

xox