Gemma & Rose

Starting to blog is a strange thing. It's really putting yourself 'out there', not only making your writing public, but also your thoughts, observations and opinions. Scary stuff. And as public as it is, it's also sometimes difficult to get anyone to take the time to read posts. There's a lot competing for everyone's attention out there. 

But I love reading other people's blogs, almost as much as I like blogging. It's helpful to hear what's going on in other's heads and it's a great way to get all sorts of useful and interesting information as well. As a former journalist I know there's lots of expertise and creative thought hiding out under people's metaphorical hats, and I think it's damn nice when they take the time and make the effort to share of it freely with others.

Along that vein, I'd like to introduce two friends who have recently set up their own blogs: Gemma & Rose. 

Gemma is originally from Liverpool and started her blog to write about living in London, specifically chronicling 52 things she has always wanted to do or see in this great city. As she so eloquently puts it:

After a 2014 which zapped my energy levels, it was time to take a stand. I was growing weary of the endless stories from friends and colleagues (often from far off lands) of places they had visited in London, which as a native who moved to London six years ago I still hadn’t done. It was time to redress the balance. It was also time to do those things I keep wishing to do but always seem that tomorrow would be a better day.

You can find Gemma blogging at: www.gemma.london

Rose is an American expat (like me!), but she lives in Paris. I'm totally jealous as I've always wanted to live there. She writes the blog Paris, Pittsburgh and More. Rose recently wrote a post about her own experience with refugees -- an insightful and interesting piece that starts with the sentence: One of my best friends is a refugee. You won't be disappointed when reading her story.

If you are as taken with Paris as I am, or think it's the most romantic city in the world (sigh), I'm sure you'll enjoy reading her thoughts and comments on life there.

In her own words: I started my blog in a "now or never" moment, and I'm having a lot of them lately! The defining moment came when Taron told me about her blog. It's been something I've been wanting to do for a while, especially after reading Gretchen Rubin's "The Happiness Project" last year. I'm being forced to live larger, experience life more fully. As far as happiness goes, it's way up there with dark French chocolate!

If you have a blog and I don't know about it yet, please do tell me. You can comment below or you can email me at mindbodyandscroll [at] yahoo [dot] com. Happy reading!

Photo credit: Hyper-real via photopin (license)

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Hamburger Helper

When I first moved to London, my flat mate Emma and I would spend hours talking about the differences in language between our two countries. Both being countries, in which, allegedly, the same language is spoken.

I've lived here for so long now that I don't really notice the differences as much anymore. I speak 'English' English more often than not (as opposed to 'American' English), writing 'loo roll' on the shopping list and always using 'trousers' to describe those things you wear on your legs. I don't even realize anymore when a word or phrase isn't said in America.

"What does 'dodgy' mean?" one American friend said to me.

But then, sometimes there's still a comical language moment. This happened recently in the context of discussing 'Hamburger Helper'. I was watching an American T.V. show with a friend when a box of the 1980s instant cooking mixture was shown.

"What is 'Hamburger Helper' anyway?" she asked.

I tried to explain that it was a powder alongside dried noodles that you add to mince meat to make it into a different kind of dish.

"There are different flavors," I tried to explain the mysterious food, and it was much harder than I thought it would be. "I think there's an Italian one that's supposed to taste like lasagna."

She looked at me blankly.

"So what does it have to do with hamburgers?"

And then I realized the confusion. Americans often call ground beef (mince meat to Brits) hamburger meat, sometimes even shortening it to 'hamburger'. So a product that is marketed to Americans using the word 'hamburger' would also bring up connotations of the meat used to make a hamburger, as well as the completed sandwich itself.

Whereas to Brits, the word 'hamburger' means only one thing: the alleged main staple of the American diet.

By the by, whenever we do have a barbecue, guests are often shocked that I make my own burgers. They don't realize how easy it is. So here's another use of the phrase 'Hamburger Helper' -- it can refer to me if you want a lesson in how to make your own burgers from scratch.

Photo credit: slider bar madness : hamburger macro, upper market street, san francisco (2013) via photopin (license)

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Meditation For Dummies

I've been flirting with the idea of meditation for a long time. A few years ago I even bought the book Meditation for Dummies. It's wasn't half bad -- I just wanted some sort of introduction that would explain what it was and how to do it.

If you have no idea what meditation really is, you're not alone. The way I like to think about it is a practice in quieting down the monster in your head. The voice that rails at you all day long, worrying about things, telling you off, creating drama, and just generally keeping you from a nice, enjoyable existence.

For many years I've read lots of books about quieting down this voice -- from self-help authors such as Richard Carlson and Eckhardt Tolle, to books written by Buddhist monks and scholars. And it has always made sense to me intellectually. But part of me always knew that until I actually got into the habit of sitting my butt on a cushion (or a chair) and practicing it on a regular basis, I would never really know if there were benefits.

This year, I've done just that. Since March, I've been meditating for 10 minutes a day. And I have to say, it's really making a difference. Lots of research is being done at the moment on meditation -- and so far it shows that it can help everything from sleeping patterns to depression and anxiety. What really has won me is how the research shows that there is true plasticity to our brains -- we can change our thought patterns. Or, I suppose, learn to see them for what they are.

But in addition to research, what has helped convince me is hearing other people's stories about how it has helped them. Experience -- even if it is just one person's -- can be compelling.

So if you've ever wanted to know more about meditation, but think it's not for people like you, I have the perfect book for you to read. Skip Meditation for Dummies and read a book written by American television journalist Dan Harris, called 10% Happier: How I Tamed the Voice in my Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge and Found Self-Help That Actually Works -- A True Story. 

In addition to providing great insight into meditation, its history and how it can help, it's also a fascinating memoir. Harris admits that he long associated meditation with "bearded swamis and unwashed hippies," so if you're skeptical, this book just might be for you.

Note: I was also amused that I had no idea who Dan Harris was, because his television career took off after I left the U.S. So I actually had to google him to see what he looked like, even though he's an anchor on Nightline!

Photo credit: Buddha statue in meditation pose, robe, blue, concrete, Lake City Way, Seattle, Washington, USA via photopin (license)

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The Iconic Red Phone Box

I've been thinking a lot about my first year living in London as I work on my book based on this experience. There was a very sad episode (which has definitely made it into the book), that took place on the Fourth of July during that first year.

It involved a call home to my family, who were all gathered together at our lake house, and they passed the phone around to all say hello to me. By the time the phone made it to my Uncle Doug, who I think was the last person to come to the phone, I was hysterically crying. But the weirdest part of this story is that I made the call from a red phone box with a calling card because I was at a party that day -- in Richmond, of all places. (It was this century, I promise.) 

So you can imagine my shock when during last week's bank holiday weekend the Hub and I took our new bikes to Richmond for a ride along the river, and on our way back, right before we crossed over Richmond bridge, I stumbled on what I think was that phone box, right in front of me. It must have been one of the ones that got saved -- it's so rare to actually see them these days. 

And I had just been reading that scene that very morning, even though I had written in months ago. Talk about foreshadowing.

If you had told me back then, when I was on the phone crying, that my future self would eventually be riding by and would no longer feel like the loneliest person in the world, I would not have believed you. 

It made me think about the way life works like that. When you're down in the dumps and things feel like they will never get any better, maybe it's good to think about those times when things were really rough and how they eventually passed. How you hung in there and felt sad or scared or jealous or embarrassed -- and you had to go and cry in a phone box -- but then things were O.K. again. 

Who knew a little bank holiday bike ride along the Thames could be so philosophical?

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