Changing my mindset

In my pursuit of finding myself, (yes, I'm still as lost as Paddington Bear but without the label), a book was suggested to me called Dying to be Me written by Anita Moorjani.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dying-Be-Me-Journey-Healing/dp/1848507836/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1359997497&sr=1-1

This book is a true story, written by a lady who had very advanced cancer until her Near Death Experience and subsequent thought processes cured her. 

Now, the scientist in me was a little skeptical about this at first but as I turned the pages I felt this was written by a woman who had indeed had something happen to her which was nothing short of a miracle. Her only reason for writing this down and sharing it was to tell everyone what had happened to her and to perhaps help people in the telling.

Now, I have to be honest, I am not a person who sits and dreams about lottery wins or eternal beauty miracles (gold leaf face cream...really?!) and nor do I care if people will think I am common/poor/unworthy of direct communication if I don't have a car with this years registration on it. 

I have always thought I should be happy with what I have been given in life and it's rather rude of me when thoughts creep in of wanting something different or more.

I don't dream big, I dream comfort sized.

However, I do have a small confession which I pause to make public. I cosmic ordered my other half. Yes, you read that correctly, but please read on.

There I was on a warm summer evening when my mind wandered by itself to a place of considerable comfort and joy where Colin Firth and Johnny Depp took turns to run down the beach towards me (and at one point towards each other...don't ask, I can't explain it either) and I happily passed a few minutes pondering on said images. Then I grappled with Johnny Depp to toss him out of my mind (Colin had left when asked, ever the gent) and I started to think about what I really wanted in a man. 

I had heard about cosmic ordering and I knew if I was to succeed I had to be precise and believe in it totally. So I mentally wrote a list, correcting a few things as I went along (he didn't really NEED startlingly blue bedroom eyes, did he?) and I came up with a list of things I really felt I would be very content with. 

And then I took a breath and said out loud exactly what I would like and when he was to be delivered by (I omitted the type of courier, I didn't want to be picky) , thanked the Universe profusely and left it at that.

Now the Universal Powers That Be have a sense of humour, very like mine I believe, as in the period before final delivery I was sent some samples of manhood who were dodgy to say the least. 

I even ventured into Cougar land but decided I did enough babysitting already and so I didn't bother going there again, thank you very much, so kind but no. 

It really wasn't panning out well and I began to feel slightly short changed and over taxed, monetarily and emotionally.

With one day to go before my cosmic delivery deadline, my confidence and belief was starting to waiver. Had I foolishly bought in to this Cosmic Ordering malarkey too much? Had I sat back and believed I deserved something too good for me? Were the male specimens laid out before me really all there was on offer?

And then he appeared. Well, actually he had been right under my nose since around the time of the ordering process but I just hadn't noticed. At the end of our first date I realised this rather gorgeous man was ticking some very clear boxes on my mental list and here I am, several years later, still cheering loudly at my very good fortune and speaking words of gratitude for what I have found. 

So you may think I would have cosmic ordered with great abandon ever since, right? It worked so let's see the menu, yeah? 

Um, nope. 

Not an order since. Not even a small starter or apperitif. 

Why? I didn't want to appear greedy. I have been tempted when times have been difficult but I have resisted. I just couldn't do it. Didn't think I deserved it. 

Then, I read Anita Moorjani's book. I realised it was actually okay to ask for help. It wasn't greedy or selfish to want things. It was like a bit of a weight had been lifted. That might seem strong but it is true for me. 

This woman gives you permission to love yourself in a healthy way. She has a story to tell which needs to be heard by all of us. At no point does Anita TELL you what to do or think. She makes it clear from the beginning she is re-telling exactly what happened to her and you are to make your own judgement.

I thought it was going to be a bit too hippy happy clappy for me. It wasn't. It was inspiring. And passionate. And she gave me a lot to think about. What happened to her is nothing short of a miracle. A real one.  

If you lack confidence, feel guilty or feel in need of permission to be YOU then read this book. You won't regret it.

No, of course you don't look stupid with a piece of glowing plastic in your mouth...honestly!

Well, I have looked at the weather and decided I am no longer going to stand in the cold with the outcasts, puffing on our sticks and pretending we find the miniature summer house with hard seats charming.

I am going to try and quit smoking. Try. It's not that I don't want to because I do. Fag ash Lil is so last year.

Of course, a sure fire way to bash the ash would be to get pregnant again, as I have always given up instantly I know there is a baby brewing in the pot.

Hmm.

However, the thought of changing nappies and breastfeeding again only serves to have me begging for a pack of 20 and a vodka to go.

So I have bought an electronic cigarette. Yes, I know. Shh.

It's looking at me now from the bedside cabinet, winking at me as it straightens its tie and strikes a pose.

I have read the instructions carefully and believe I am sucking correcting to the full benefit of both of us, my nicotine habit and it's battery life.

But it is a learning curve.

I sit here chewing furiously on a piece of normal minty gum in the hope it will distract me from the fact. And the fact is, I really want a cigarette.

I may mention this again, in say three months, but this isn't a 'let's give up smoking, sing songs and hold hands' blog, its merely a warning my nerves have been hacked and I could go a little crazy over the next few days.

Do you know, it MIGHT be easier to go for the pregnancy option, fed up with this gum chewing already!

The Art of Letter Writing

When was the last time you put pen to paper and wrote a letter to a friend simply for the pleasure of doing so?

I came across a talk by a lovely lady called Hannah Brencher on the fabulous TED talks http://on.ted.com/dMT2 where she tells the story of letter writing to strangers and expresses the pleasure she and they got from the experience. Personally, I think this is a fab idea. It's all too easy to write an email and send it but there is something special about holding a letter in your hand and reading it whilst enjoying a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit.

All too often, the letter box goes and all that appears are bills, junk mail and more junk mail. How nice to go to the door and find someone has been thinking about you enough to grab some paper and a pen and write something just for you. Better still if they have popped a couple of photos in with it which you can frame straight away without fighting with your printer (that last bit may just be me but the flipping thing drinks ink and is always empty when I want to use it! Ha!)

So take some time out from technology, buy some beautiful paper and start creating for someone you care about, they will love it :)

Science: A Dying Art?

I took a biology O'level because I had to choose a science when I took my options at school many moons ago. I decided it was the least of the three evils of physics, chemistry and biology and it would 'do'. I also had a fear of maths and broke out in a sweat at the mere sight of an equation.

Then I started climbing big hills in Britain and that all changed. I had a need to find out how those hills got there, what was underneath them and what was above them. I breathed in the air and the explorer inside me came out and started to ask questions. Suddenly science didn't seem so bad as I was motivated by a need to 'know'.

Years later,  I have a heavy interest in geology and astroeverything and, if I had my time again, I would probably be found dangling at the edge of a volcano or maybe even trying to be one of the lucky few who are involved in space exploration.

A lot of young people these days seem to think science is for 'nerds' and not enough of them are getting interested in scientific careers. We really need this to change. 

The BBC have helped to make space related science accessible to the general public with programmes such as The Sky At Night and Stargazing. The latter being helped by presenters like Professor Brian Cox who appeals to many for his knowledge and also his...presence (sorry, Professor!)

NASA always has something going on to try and peek interest (at the moment they need help with the solar panel longerons on the International Space Station..complicated stuff but they have lots of other things going on too!) and this has been helped by a few Near Earth Objects being...well, near. At the end of 2012 there was, of course, concerns by some the world was going to end and an assumption it would be from an impact of some sort. It didn't happen, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this, but this and other recent events has brought space related sciences firmly back in the public's eye and this can only be a good thing and something to be built on and encouraged.

I heard the education authority was thinking of reducing funding for science related courses in schools in the UK, due to the costs involved. I am hoping this is a rumour.

We NEED our teenagers to take an active interest in the sciences, we need the progression. There is so much more to learn and discover, on our own beautiful planet, (in the oceans in particular) and out there in space in our solar system and beyond. We must encourage our children to want to discover and to ask questions. They are our tomorrow.

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On a bit of a sad note, I noted today the Royal Institution is putting it's building in Mayfair up for sale. 

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-21069749

You can add your voice to those trying to save it by following this link http://savetheri.wordpress.com

It's Just A Heap Of Metal...A Heap Of Junk Metal Now

It could only happen to my dear OH. I say this with a fondness and deep appreciation for his little escapades, which I still find endearing, albeit through gritted teeth.

My OH is a man of many talents, he works many hours to provide for our huge family and is still the most attractive man on the planet in my eyes. That said...

In July 2012, it was decided we needed a second car as my OH changed jobs and needed one for work. He duly went out and panic bought a bit of an old banger called Rusty. It reminded me of a sketch I once saw where a similar car reached the traffic lights only to fall apart, its four wheels rolling away from the scene to fetch a strong coffee each and grab a bit of a lay down. It was a rust bucket of the highest oxide but the petrol cap, I was assured, was sound. He seemed to think this of great significance and so I bowed to his greater knowledge and let it go.

A mere 12 weeks later and it gave up the ghost. The door did indeed fall off at the traffic lights, (I kid you not) and he limped home like Fred Flintstone with a look on his face which begged understanding. The car was taken away, to be as crushed as his ego.

And so I did something rather silly. I let him use my car who I had affectionately named Horace after my grandad (dependable, loyal and trustworthy)  until we could afford another to replace Rusty. Several scrapes, chips, dents later and Horace had finally had enough. With a war cry Mel Gibson would have been proud of, Horace danced on some ice and threw himself at another car. I wept over his bonnet and with a final tearful farewell sent him to the same scrapyard as Rusty. That was five days ago.

Four days ago we bought a new car. This time it was a Ka. The petrol cap was rusty, which I took as a good sign, the ying and yang of car purchasing or the faint hope of better things perhaps? My dear OH was enthusiasm itself and assured me it was the right car. The man from the garage backed this up and I ignored the garage man's quips about women not knowing anything about cars because this woman doesn't. And so he bought it, insured it, told work he was coming in that evening and set off for work at the appropriate time. He turned two corners, found a patch of ice and...yes, quite...totally wrote off the car he slid into and did untold damage to the one he was driving.

Three days ago we bought a new car. This time it was a Ford Fiesta. He went to the garage to look at it and decided it was the one for him. Excellent condition, economical and a pleasant colour (!!) I can't tell you about the petrol cap, I didn't ask. He agreed to go back the next day to pick it up and told work he would be in. He insured it, took it to work and managed to bring it home in one piece.

Tonight there are several inches of snow predicted...I'll get back to you.