There’s something very melancholic and wistful about the changing of seasons – especially from summer to autumn, when everything just starts to….well….die.  With Spring  there is the earthy, mossy scented scattering of rain-showers, bringing with it the first green buds of life. The breeze comes calling with a little more warmth, promising sunshine and, to many hot-blooded heterosexual males out there, short skirts skimming the tops of lean (albeit pale) thighs.  But with autumn, the mood is more sombre.  The fresh scents of summer flowers, fresh-cut grass and grilling meat on charcoal bbq’s become muted by the northern winds that always seem to give a slightly frosty, metallic tinge to the nose.  The leaves that once created a green ceiling over streets and boulevards have now been converted to a multi-coloured carpet.  Now, I love the fall, in spite of the slightly depressing tone that comes with it.  Fall fashion always brings a smile to my face – the mixture of textures, colours that glow like embers, layering wools with silks, knee socks, open-toed booties, bright scarves….Autumn cooking is also a seasonal delight, with the apple pies and crumbles, pumpkin soups and muffins, butternut squash, root vegetables, slow-simmering meats in pressure cookers – ha!  Even the foodfare is dressed in fall fashion colours!  But I think what is probably most significant in a Naturopath’s world is that transition seasons call for Detoxification!  It is during this time that your body naturally starts to prepare for winter’s long haul of hibernation – it is during this time that it is best (both in eastern and western philosophies) to allow your body this chance to do a little bit of intercellular cleaning and give yourself a break from all of the things that summer patios and all-inclusive vacations do so well.  Fall is Detox Season.

Now it would be irresponsible of me to publish a detoxification programme on my blog for everyone to follow as each individual has unique needs, and detoxifications should not be taken lightly.  It isn’t about starving yourself in order to lose the beer belly – it’s about respecting your body’s organ systems and allowing them a temporary vacation from the excesses of the summer and being mindful of what you put (or not put) into it.  Not only is it about a clean diet in order to help clean out your digestive organs, but it’s about aiding the other organ systems to help flush out the toxins.  From your lungs to your kidneys, to your skin to your soul – these are ALL going to get rid of their shit.  Yes…even your soul, which brings me to the point of this here blog entry.  Beware the emotional detoxification that may occur during the physical detox.

Baggage.  We all have it.  We all deal with some of it, ignore others – some of us successfully shed a few pieces of luggage only to collect a couple of other key pieces.  It’s a constant battle to try to either dump it out so that you never have to carry it around again, or to hide it so that nobody else (including yourself) will see how absolutely f&*ked up you truly are, but no matter what your method of compensation, all your shit eventually comes to the surface.  Especially during a detox.  So be prepared for that really special side of yourself that seems to only make an appearance during Christmas dinners and family vacations, because I can almost guarantee that it will be triggered to come out again.  And when it does, acknowledge it.  Be present with the anger, the hurt, the pain, the fear.  Understand that it comes from a place of wanting to protect yourself.  But then try to let it go.  Much easier said than done.  I know.  TRUST ME, I know.  Six months of meditating in various ashrams in India, a divorce, a start-over in a new country, eloping, another start-over professionally, avoiding, crying, praying, yoga-ing, journaling, blogging, raging against anyone who tries to tell me what to do and I’m STILL dealing with the same.old.shit.  During that time I have found solace in running away, writing, wine, marijuana, music and a few relationships, both toxic and nurturing (friends, family and lovers) some of which i’ve let go of, some of which i’m still clinging to.  But it’s a process – a lifelong one – one that will require more than a few more years of all of the above.  But if you take care of your body, it makes it easier to take care of your mind.  Detoxify.  Breathe. Then rinse.  And repeat.

One of my favourite terms that I have borrowed from a good girlfriend of mine is ‘’white wine werewolf’’.  You know…when you take advantage of one of the 12 sunny days that we have here on this island by scrambling as quickly as you can, after work, towards the nearest patio that is not absolutely heaving with other like-minded sun-starved vitamin D3 deprived humans, order a bottle of chilled white chardonnay and promptly guzzle the whole thing down with the help of one other girlfriend?  On an empty stomach?  And suddenly you are transformed from this intelligent, witty, normally quite kind and generous human being into a snarling, bitchy, dramatic, sometimes weepy monster who ends up either drunk-dialing an ex-boyfriend or picking a fight with your current partner?  Yup – you’ve got it – you’ve turned into the White Wine Werewolf.

I find that this werewolf rears it’s ugly hide about 3 days before my period.  Which, funnily enough, normally falls on the New Moon.  It’s often after a particularly dramatic row with my husband that I gather enough wherewithal to check on google to see where exactly we are in the lunar cycle.  It is amidst the flying plates and drifting innards of an expensive cushion that I momentarily grasp onto the shreds of my sanity and think to myself ‘’oh shitballs – am I getting my period?’’  And sure enough, it is either a few days before or on the night of the New Moon.

One thing I always say to my nutrition students is to never ignore the intense feeling, no matter how off the wall or out of character they seem, that bubbles up in the days preceding your menstrual flow.  According to many specialists in the field of female health, your menstrual time is your most intuitive – when you are most open to the universe and to your true feelings.  But with great power comes great responsibility: These feelings need to be explored honestly, with the intention of wanting to understand and grow, analyzed with a clear and non-judgmental heart.  Hopefully not through the lens of a bottle of pinot grigio.

Tonight is the New Moon.  And, yup, you guessed it ladies and gents – I have shamefully tucked the hairy wolf tail between my legs and realised that I have eaten the poor innocent heart, pride and soul of someone close to me.  To my latest victim, you know who you are – it isn’t you, it’s me.  Really.  And everything that I said in the heat of my lunar-soaked craze?   There probably is some truth to it.  There always is.  But it should have been delivered with love, not with the blind rage of a hungry caged animal.  Always know that the more painful my bite, the deeper the vulnerability.  And this animal hates being vulnerable.  But I will try to address the obvious hormone-induced anger that I have in my heart and focus that fire into something positive.  Like Biodynamic wine.

I know, I know, I suck at keeping a blog.  I started out strong, but then I fizzled in the end.  As my brother would say ‘’Strong execution, absolutely no finish’’.  And he’s right.

I apologize for the hiatus over the holidays.  I spent the past few weeks moaning and agonizing over the pros and cons of leaving my boutique-start-up-clinic (I like the way that sounds…) and being swallowed up by some large, corporate multinational behemoth of a spa (I have sold out – please see previous blog here). I have finally decided that stability, at this point in my life (and after the past 28 months of leading somewhat of a rock star existence) was exactly what the naturopath ordered.  With the New Year come new beginnings, and a bunch of resolutions that may or may not work out.  But hopefully, unlike this blog, there will be strong starts and an enduring loyalty to these personal commitments I have made. Here they are in no particular order…

a)    Vegetarianism.  Well, Mostly vegetarianism.  After two weeks in France with my in-laws over the Holiday season eating nothing but Fois Gras, Oysters, Lamb, Filet Mignon, Escargot, and more cheese than you could ever imagine with bottles of wine and champagne to wash all of that down (and believe me, I never thought it could possibly come to this given how much I LOVE all of those things) I swore to myself as I was straining futilely over the toilet for the 2^nd day in a row and seeing nothing but pathetic pebbles that rabbits would have scoffed at, that I would eat nothing but salad and pulses for the rest.of.my.life. Then, after arriving home and being confronted by two National Geographic magazines in a heap under our mail slot outlining the long lasting devastation of the Gulf of Mexico oil spill on our ocean’s wildlife (there goes canned tuna…aaaaand every other creature from the sea) and the ongoing destruction of all of our natural resources, I promptly lost my appetite for anything with eyes.  But I am going to be realistic, and nobody knows more than a naturopath about setting reasonable, obtainable goals.  I am not going to turn into one of those raw food vegans (egad – I still want to be invited to summer BBQ’s!) and there is no way that anyone can get in between me and a hamburger on Day 1 of my period, Period.  PLUS I am married to a French man (His response to my ‘’Cheri, I am turning vegetarian’’ was ‘’okay, that sounds great – I will join.  Shall we do lamb tonight?’’).  I am going to allow myself 1 day a month (you know which day!) that I can eat whatever I want from whatever species that roams this earth.  That still leaves 353 days of the year that I am going to make educated, sustainable choices about what I put into my mouth.  And if I make exceptions every now and again (Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving and my birthday) I am not going to beat myself up about it, because once you start placing guilt into your feeding regime, that’s when things go very, very wrong.  At least in my experience. https://www.vegsoc.org/

b)   Gardening.  Living in London is much like living inside a green house that keeps it’s internal sprinklers on 24-7.  It’s green and lush and for the most part, the weather is mild, but it’s very, very wet. Like…always.  When I was living in Toronto, rainy days were the perfect days to stay in your pajamas with a great book and a mug of tea, or a bag of maltesers and a movie, or a lie-in and naked time with your significant other.  If you choose rainy days to do those things here, you will be a fat slob, unemployed or pregnant.  Or all of the above.  In keeping with my ‘’save the Earth’’ rampage that I am on (see a) above) I have decided that tending my own garden will not only help reduce my carbon footprint, but will allow me to enjoy the rainy days as more than an excuse to stay indoors – but a reason to take advantage of the outdoors Without needing a garden hose and a sprinkler!  There are very few opportunities in large urban centres to be in close contact with nature – but as inhabitants of this planet, we cannot truly reach our full potential or thrive physically, mentally and emotionally without constant connection with the earth.  We city dwellers often forget that, and gardening is the perfect solution.  It reduces stress, it gets you outdoors and keeps you (somewhat) active, it is a sustainable activity and you literally do reap what you sow. In your own backyard!  I am no gardening expert (in fact, I am pretty good at killing all my house plants) but a dear friend of mine is an expert and has this lovely gardening blog that I find rather inspirational.  I have even started saving our compost so that we can make our own nutritious topsoil for the spring when I really start to get my hands dirty.  Check It: http://growingpeople.wordpress.com/

And if my garden fails, I’ll just blame it on her.  Or get her to come over and help me turn my thumbs green!

c)    Be Kind.  To everyone, obviously, but more importantly, to myself.  When you are raised in a borderline insane Korean family, being easy on yourself and being kind (at least in the traditional, Western sense of the word) was something that only happened on birthdays and at funerals.  Or if you were lucky enough to win a Nobel prize or get a full scholarship to Harvard (Princeton and Yale are okay – Oxford and Cambridge are too far away).  Something that bought your parents bragging rights to the other members of the Korean community.  Not to say that my family was downright abusive.  It’s just that there were very high expectations – and if my brother and I did not perform to the highest standard (as in, being number 1 in our class, mastering the violin And the piano, bartering for world peace with our autistic mathematical skills – you know…) then we weren’t doing our best.  To them, there is no concept of ‘’damaging the child’s self-esteem’’ with the constant belittling when coming home with an A minus (A-Minus?  Are You Letahded??).  Belittling is what you deserved if you did not live up to the expectation of being the best – since it was tacitly understood that they would not expect so much if they honestly did not believe that we were the Best.  However, what that has ended up doing is to make me become extremely hard on myself when things do not go my way.  As a result, it makes me hard on those close to me – and that just does not help anyone or the situation.  And so I have decided to try to re-wire the harsh critic inside of me that has developed from years of criticism from my parents.  I am going to allow myself the mistakes of being human, because that is what I am.  I won’t insult or blame myself when I make the wrong choice, gain a few pounds, have a messy house or kill the occasional houseplant.  I will be gentle and be kind to the imperfect sides of myself, and in doing so, be more tolerant of everyone else’s.

http://growingpeople.wordpress.com/

The Jig is up.  I have been grappling with the idea of either becoming a member of the ‘’stable job’’ community and accepting this full time position at this Wellness Centre that is scheduled to launch in April 2011 in central London, or staying with my own burgeoning (albeit small – boutique, let’s call it) clinic which is, like many start-ups, not as stable.  I am sure that many of you have been in this position before, whether it has been in the form of a career change or relationship break up – where one now has to decide which path to take?  When you are at the proverbial Fork In the Road, how simple is it really to listen to one’s gut and know, like Really Know in the ‘’my heart is telling me that this is the way because I had a dream last night and I woke up just knowing’’ way of knowing and make the right decision for you at that point in your life?

It’s not that simple.  In fact, it’s never really that simple.  I do agree that one does have to pay attention to their heart and their gut, the two largest emotional centres of the body, but one also has to create the appropriate connection between them and the head.  And I feel that for the majority, it’s either over-thinking and making a decision based on what they feel is logical and is expected of them (the head) or they jump in eyes wide shut without any thought to the consequences (the heart – Me).  The highway between those extremes is often closed to traffic and a decision is made that causes a pattern to be repeated in one’s life – either through being too cautious and worrying about how one will look to other people, or not being thoughtful enough and needing someone to bail you out when the fit hits the shan (again…me).  Either way, you end up unhappy.

So that was my conundrum – accept this job and give up everything that I had worked so hard to obtain on my own terms, or turn it down and continue to see where things go as they are?  Opportunity versus Freedom?  But is the stable job really forcing me to give up my independence or would it actually provide me with more options in the end?  Is working for myself really as liberating as I made it out to be given that my salary could be amazing one month and panic inducing the next?   Is this a test to see how devoted I was to my clinic or is this the Universe’s way of letting me know that my hard work had paid off and I am now being recognized for it?

Well, dear Readers and Clients, here it is.  I have accepted the job and I am choosing to see it as an amazing opportunity.  I have listened to both my head and my heart and after 8 lists of pros and cons and several conversations with each and every single one of my confidantes and respected colleagues, a month of sleepless nights and a renewed passion for journal-writing, I am going to be embarking on a new and exciting journey.  My own clinic will be put on hold indefinitely starting February 1^st 2011, but I will be transferring my current clients, if they choose to stay with me, to my new location in Trafalgar Square starting April 2011.

Will keep you updated with details as they arise.

Happy New Year, everyone.

The recent media attention in the USA surrounding the suicides of young gay boys who were being bullied about their homosexuality has made me feel as though I should at least take the time to write about something that affects all of us in every part of the world, not just in North America.

Being a self-proclaimed Fruit Fly (sounds much better than Fag Hag…I am NO Hag, ladies and gentlemen..) it angers me that I have to write this.  But more than the rage, the dominant emotion I feel is sadness.  Sad that in this day and age, people still have a problem with someone else’s sexuality.  Sad that it has taken several tragic deaths in order for this to galvanize a semi-global movement for equality.  Sad that this has been cited as a ‘recent pattern’ amongst Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgendered youth when in fact, statistics show that the rates of suicide amongst the LGBT community has Always been like this.  Sad that people’s children are bullying other people’s children to suicidal limits.  Sad that these children were not born with this sort of hatred towards LGBT individuals, but that they were Taught this intolerance in their own homes by their parents.  Children being Taught to Hate other children.

On the other hand, it’s encouraging to see how well the It Gets Better Project is being received.  Obama’s speech, although a bit flat and lacking the passion that I feel is needed by an issue as contentious as this one, came from a very good place – a place of tolerance, acceptance and Love.  And on some small scale, I hope that by writing my opinion, by showing my support of individuality, strength and Universal Love, this message will continue to be perpetuated.  To all my Gay and Lesbian brothers and sisters, thank you for inspiring me to live and love with fearlessness and with honesty.  And for having excellent fashion sense and a superhero tolerance for vodka martinis (extra olives…we like them D.I.R.T.Y).

Love.   A simple, universal emotion made intensely complicated by the stereotypical images we have attached so rigidly to that word.  A concept that excludes no one – everyone has been a giver and receiver of it, fallen victim to it’s thorns when denied it, been addicted to it, rejected it, praised it and scorned it and everyone undeniably Needs it.  For something that has no limits, no bounds, can never be drained to extinction, it is most definitely treated as though it is a nonrenewable resource, especially nowadays.  To be in the LGBT community is to have to be brave in order to Love.  To LOVE someone else.  And to be intolerant to the LGBT community is to say that you do not support Love in all it’s forms. In a world where true compassion and love is severely lacking between human beings, how dare we have the audacity to pick and choose what we deem to be the ‘’right type of Love.’’

I believe the late, great Bob Marley said it best.

‘One Love’

Peace out.

It Gets Better Project

I am a really really bad sick person.  I know that most of the time, we women have the pleasure of condescending to our male counterparts when it comes to being able to ‘’suck it up and take it’’ when inflicted with some sort of flu or cold virus.  We place cool caring hands on hot feverish foreheads and make chicken soup from scratch and bring our (lame) boyfriends/partners juice and rent DVD’s when they are feeling sick while inwardly rolling our eyes at the male body’s absolute inability to deal with even the smallest of sniffles without looking for someone to mother them.  Oh…shove a tit in it! I want to say at times when a large, hairy, mouth-breathing, congested crybaby asks for a belly rub.  And then….I hate to admit it, but shamefully, I join the ranks of these young soldiers in the sickness trenches.  I am a freaking whiny baby when I have a cold too.

Everything just seems Wrong in the world when your body is too weak to perform simple tasks without having it scream out against you, like eating, or going to the toilet.  The imbalance that one feels – like when one nostril is completely blocked and the other one is so clear that every inhalation feels like knives whizzing past your sinuses?  I am in awe of my friends who are able to go to work with a runny nose and a rattling chesty cough and a mild fever.  Why?  Why put yourself through that sort of torture?  Why Be A Hero?

Being a Naturopath, I feel I have a bit more leeway with my sick days and how easily I can cave when it comes to cancelling patients and staying home.  I cancelled my patients yesterday a) to avoid leaving the house and the warm confines of my husband’s track pants and b) because it’s just intelligent PR.  Who wants to see a dripping, nasally, sneezy, wheezy naturopath?  It’s like signing up with a fat fitness trainer.

I feel that in our society, one is made far too guilty for calling in sick.  I know that sometimes in life you just do not have the luxury of being able to lie in bed all day, not with deadlines and projects and bills to pay – I get it.  But sometimes that one day you spend in bed with a pot of herbal tea and the latest season of Mad Men will bring your healing time from a dragged out miserable (and not so productive) 2 weeks down to a 4-day recovery slot.  Sometimes it IS just worth it to do yourself a favour.

But how about those times where you cannot afford to miss work?  Well, make sure you have these things in your medicine cupboard at all times – powdered Vitamin C (Metagenics Ultra Potency-C Powder – 1000mg per quarter teaspoon – it’s potent stuff), a good quality Zinc (Biocare – 30 mg capsules), a good probiotic (BioKult – www.bio-kult.com) and tons of raw ginger, good honey (manuka if you can afford it) and lemon (organic, preferably).  What do you do with all of this?  At the ONSET of the sniffles, take about 4000mg of vitamin C – this potent antioxidant will help boost your immunity and clear out any toxins.  Then every hour, take another 1000mg until you start getting the farts (oh beware these farts – they WILL clear a room) or loose stools.  Then you stop.  Throughout the day make a HUGE pot of Lemon/Ginger/Honey infusion and drink as much as you want.  Lemon supports your liver to flush out the toxins, ginger is good for your lungs and is warming and honey (especially Manuka) is nature’s antibiotic and will help fight off whatever has invaded your body and made you feel like a heaping pile of steamy poo.  Keep hydrated, so drink lots of water too.  Take 2 capsules of the probiotics at every meal to help your immunity as 80% of your immune system is along your gut and without probiotics, no immunity.  Before you go to bed, take 60 mg of Zinc – another immune booster and cell-healer.  In the morning, you should feel about 60% – 100% better (depending on how early you started this regime) – enough to be able to make it through a day of work.  If you catch it early enough, botanical treatments such as Echinacea purpura or Red Korean Ginseng can give your immune system the boost it needs to fight it off before it turns you into a zombie.  Aconite 30CH homeopathically can also help – but only if caught at the Very Beginning – like when you start feeling like you’re About to turn into a blood-sucking zombie.

In the meantime, learn to listen to your body before it breaks down on you.  If you’re getting sick more than twice a year, or if it’s taking you more than a week to get over something, it’s probably high time that you change something in your life to support your immune system.  You can start by going to see your friendly neighbourhood Naturopath.

I recently flew home to attend my brother’s wedding and in the 3 weeks that I was visiting, two of my friends told me that they were between 8-10 weeks pregnant, and I had to visit another 2 babies that had been born in my absence.  Being in my early thirties, this should come as no surprise, both to myself and to those around me.  There seems to be this breeding buzz that affects almost everyone at our age, whether you want to or not and before you know it, it’s a feeding frenzy – when the majority around you is behaving in this instinctive way, you tend to follow suit.

But how much of this is instinct and how much of this is peer pressure?  Now don’t get me wrong – I think babies are cute despite their constant pooping and crying and insomnia at the most inopportune times.  The idea of creating something with someone you love, building a family, loving and nurturing this helpless ball of blubber is actually a nice one.  It’s their smell and their chubby bums that do it for me. But what is it about the very personal decision to procreate (or not) that suddenly becomes everyone else’s business?  I spent a good ten minutes (maybe 15) at my brother’s wedding being chased around the dancefloor (and bar area – the white wine made this conversation bearable) by certain family members asking – no, harrassing me about when I was going to start trying.  This relative of mine actually told me that it was my DUTY to have a baby.  “This isn’t about YOU” she said.  “This is about your Family.  Think of your parents.”

Huh??

I have done a lot of thinking about this.  It’s hard not to since everyone around me seems to be popping them out at a ludicrous rate.  And I can see the appeal.  Really, I can.  But how about the appeal of not having one?  Being the auntie that swoops in when the parents need a vacation and having a laugh with the kids?  The woman who has extra cash in the bank because she hasn’t spent it on nappies, baby furniture, a station wagon, football uniforms, music lessons, and can therefore give amazing presents to the little guy/girl (or herself)?  Um….here’s a good one.  Sleeping In?? Oh, how about this classic one….having more than one vodka martini at a time?  Or the one that is true birth control to me – potentially f**king someone up so permanently and irreversibly because I might be unfit to be a mother?

I am not saying that I’ve made my decision to have or not have children.   But I want to weigh out the pros and cons of both options.  Sounds pretty unromantic, I know, but it IS my life.  And it’s not like I can return this thing once it’s born.  But I also recognize that I am not getting any younger.  And I know that saying ‘’I’m just not ready’’ is a moot point because when is one ever ready for children and the permanent way in which they completely and totally alter your life?  And every full moon, the thought of sacrificing an animal for the fertility Gods and having one too many rum and limes and throwing on sexy underwear and throwing caution to the wind with my husband does cross my mind, but it’s fleeting (well, the animal cruelty part.  Game On for everything else!)

The Baby Debate is not over.  Not by a long shot.  And you would probably laugh if you saw that right beside my liquor cabinet is my Folic Acid.  In the meantime, dear Family, I love that you want me to create a bunch of mini-me’s but please…Give me some Space to get knocked up Accidentally on my Own accord, eh?

As a Naturopathic Physician, one of my favourite things to ask my patients to do when I need for them to quantify certain things, like stress levels or pain intensity, is to put it on a scale of 0 – 10, ten being the highest intensity.  If I were to put ‘’Moving’’ on that scale, it would definitely be about a 0 for enjoyment.  I think that packing up your life, moving large awkward pieces of furniture, twisting one’s body to contort around narrow staircases and sharp corners in order to squish your futon frame into your new home or discovering that the vinyl’s that belong to your husband that once brought you great joy are WAY too heavy to lift more than 25 at a time and thus making you (temporarily) curse the day Marvin Gaye was born (and the birth of disco, jazz, reggae…well, music, really) is about as enjoyable as violent diarrhea on a 10 hour bus ride in a third world country.  It gives me the sweats.  And not in a good way.

We have just moved into our new flat in East London.  It’s a gorgeous flat, with high ceilings, steps away from adorable boutiques and vintage stores, organic markets and great Thai food, and with just enough council housing and gang-related violence to feel a little more ‘’Real’’ here in the east end.  But the amount of time After moving in that passes before you are actually Formally Moved In still astounds me.  And we are nowhere near Formally Moved In.  You know how excited you get when you move into a space that has that extra room?  The very room that you and your partner giggle with glee about when dreaming up all the possibilities it holds?  Yah, you know that room – the ‘’it could be the office’’ or ‘’think about the number of guests we can finally have’’ or ‘’the hobby room’’ or ‘’music room’’ and all it ends up being for about a year after you’ve moved in is Storage?  The “we don’t know what to do with this shit so let’s put it in here and deal with it later’’ room?  It is almost as if having that extra room gives one permission to hold onto the stuff that is not needed anymore.  In fact, that is probably the one thing about moving that I CAN appreciate – the downsizing and throwing stuff out/giving it to charity part of it.  There is nothing more satisfying (at least to me) than filling garbage bags full of things that you no longer need and then donating them to Oxfam or any other local charity shop.

So, what can one do in order to deal with the torment of being in transition?  I could get all metaphysical on you and say be in the moment, live in the now, let go of your worries, appreciate what is here – but NONE of those things are remotely possible for me if I’m covered in sweat and dust and surrounded by boxes.  But what I CAN recommend is to give yourself a reward at the end of it in the form of an alcoholic beverage and a wholesome meal.  And what better way to get yourself settled into a new home than to have a fridge full of wholesome, organic produce that is delivered straight to your front door!!  Abel and Cole and Riverford Organics are just two of the many organics box delivery services there are available in and around London.  There are also organics produce pick up schemes in many of the boroughs in London where everything is grown locally.  Growing Communities in Hackney and Islington is one that is well organized and also has a farmer’s market in Stoke Newington on weekends.  Eating a home cooked meal is probably one of the only ways I can feel some semblance of normalcy and routine when I’m in transition.  Oh…and shoes.

www.abelandcole.co.uk

www.riverford.co.uk

www.growingcommunities.org

I am obsessed with my vagina. This statement may come as a shock to you, the reader, potential client and/or fan, but for those who know and love me, this is pretty much my M.O. After receiving a letter from the NHS telling me that my last smear showed some ‘mild abnormalities’ and to come back in for another smear, I cannot help but be constantly thinking of what’s going down (even more than usual) in the dark confines of my ‘love box’. Or, as the French so eloquently call it….La Chatte. Meow.

Why do we put ourselves through the discomfort of allowing a person who is not your lover (or might be, but that’s none of my business) look deep into the confines of your kitty kat? Two words. Cervical Dysplasia. This is something that approximately 12 out of 20 women experience here in the United Kingdom. It means that there are some abnormal cells in your cervix that should be monitered and may, if left untreated, lead to something more serious. And yet, they still only allow women to have smear tests done once every three years. Where I came from (Toronto, Canada, to be exact) one had the privilege of marching into their GP’s office and being treated like a finger puppet once a year. And not from the age of 25, like it is here in Londinium, but from the age of 18…or from the age you first had sexual intercourse – whichever came first. Ladies, get a smear test done every year. Pay for it privately if you have to. You only have one La Chatte. And she’s high maintenance and will serve you (very) well if you are good to her.

So, what am I going to do to treat this dyskaryosis (dysplasia is the term used in Canada and the USA) you ask? I am pulling out ALL of my naturopathic tricks, nutritionally, supplementally AND emotionally. Alongside my supplemental regime, I have recruited a juicer, significantly cut down the wheat and dairy in my diet, cut down my alcohol consumption (we naturopaths are functioning alcoholics….or potheads…take your pick. Usually both..) and am also looking into the emotional events in my life that probably contributed to the current state of my cervix. Being stranded in a foreign country while going through a divorce was not one of the highlights of my life (although it definitely made me a much stronger and more grounded individual). Many of the issues surrounding my previous marriage, my relationship with my family, my running away to London, my relationship with ME definitely involved my 2nd Chakra (www.myss.com). For those of you ladies out there who have been in the same situation as I find myself, and for all of you fellow females in the world who may find yourself here at some point in the future, remember to know thyself. Healing doesn’t just come from what you eat and how you treat your body physically, although that does play a large part. How you treat yourself emotionally plays an integral role in our physical health – much more than we all would like to admit. Love yourself. Respect yourself. Honour yourself and others with whom you have relationships, casual or intimate. Most importantly, be honest with yourself. Be prepared to examine all the parts of you, your shadow sides, with scrutiny, with humility and with Love. Only once you have faced your weaknesses can you know them – and only when you know them can you learn from them and grow. This dysplasia is simply sending me a message that it’s time to take a closer look at the role I played in the past two years of my life, and come to terms with it. Watch This Space.

Chakra Link – www.myss.com

Feeling slightly depressed at the moment. Not quite sure what is bringing on this feeling of emotional malaise. Everything in my life is amazing. I have an unbelievably sexy husband who lives life with the kind of fearlessness that makes me believe that everything will always be all right, I live in one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world, I am surrounded by kind-hearted and interesting friends and I would say that I am fortunate enough to laugh on an hourly basis. The Full Moon is not for another few days, so I know it’s a bit too early for me to be feeling the pre-menstrual blah’s. Perhaps it’s not about looking for a reason for why someone as privileged as I am should not (or is not allowed to) be feeling this way. Perhaps it’s just about accepting that sometimes, you can have one of those days, and that’s okay. I find that way too many of us are avoidant of our bad emotions and more than happy to find the next quick fix to the good ones, no matter how temporary (and they are always temporary) they can be. Which often leads to unhealthy patterns of seeking instant gratification, whether it be retail therapy or a martini. The most valuable lesson I learned while I was traveling through India in 2008 was that everything is temporary. It was during a Vipassana meditation course that I embarked upon in Dharamsala – ten days of complete silence (if you don’t count the screaming voice in your head desperately looking for ways to either drive you insane or get yourself out of the prison grounds) and meditation and self-reflection. And everyday I was reminded in every evening lesson that all things come to pass. At first I found those words irritating, like being told ‘’I told you so’’ by someone who always seems to know better.

But WHEN is the pain in my leg from sitting in the same position for the past 4 hours going to pass? And when am I going to get over the anger I feel towards my past relationships, past decisions, past past past past…

anichaaaa anichaaa… all things are temporary…

AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

And now, here I am, 2 years later – in an emotional place worlds away from where I started when I first moved to London. And the one thing that got me through was knowing and believing that This Would Pass.

So, I guess tomorrow will be a new day. And if I’m in a better mood, then great – and if not, that’s okay, because it won’t last forever. It can’t rain all the time. In the meantime… chocolate.

Link:
www.dhamma.org