Sarah Wilson

I debated whether to post this (a Sex and the City 2 tirade)…

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I saw, I left, I’m still reeling.

Because this is what ones wears in the desert...
Because of course this is what ones wears when strolling in the desert...

This weekend, I parted with more than two hours of my existence and $5 to see the SATC2 movie here in New York. It offended from every angle and I fear writing about the experience is adding oxygen to the bonfire of crass consumerism, woeful colonial arrogance and destructive relationship messages that is this creation.

But there are some important things to be said on the matter.

* It’s off-kilter: I think right now Americans do not want to see themselves represented as crude spenders (every scene all four of them are wearing new outfits, one more decadent and showy than the next) and arrogant tourists.

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this is the nutrition course I’m studying (plus a cool plan to donate $500 to charity if you enrol too…)

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In February I started studying to become a health counsellor with the Institute of Integrative Nutrition in New York, via correspondence. Name someone big in nutrition and I can safely say they’re probably lecturers at this place…Deepak Chopra, Joel Fuhrman, Sally Fallon Morell, Mark Hyman, etc.

I’ve learned things like: Eat melons alone or leave them alone (they digest so fast that if you eat anything else with them, digestion is retarded…leading to gas). There you go, hey!

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Also, always soak brown rice overnight before cooking. It gets breaks down the phytic acid in the husk, which when ingested regularly can leach zinc and other vital minerals from your system.

Anyway, I’ve managed to strike up a deal where if anyone reading this decides to enroll in the course, too, and they mention I referred them, INN will hand me $500, which I’ll donate to OzHarvest.

OzHarvest is a wonderfully authentic Australian charity run by Ronni Kahn (who meditates in the same group as me) that collects excess food from restaurants and cafes and delivers it to those in need.

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sunday life: mindful eating

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This week I eat mindfully

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Now here’s a thought: what if all those folk who take photos of their every meal and post them on their blog/Twitter/Facebook were actually onto something? I’m sure you’ve seen them about. I was at lunch recently and watched a table of six whip out their iphones as their food arrived, repositioning the Maldon salt pot artfully and angling the lighting all Petrina Tinsley-like.  In a flurry of thumbs they then tweeted the images on to their cyber followers replete, no doubt, with foodie-ese captions (“River Café-inspired mascarpone-stuffed chook with intriguing heirloom tomato smear”; “Well, if those toffee shards don’t take me straight back to 1992!”).

I’ve previously found such faddish behaviour bewildering. But this week I discerned a point to it all. Fastidiously honouring your food in this way is mindfulness in action.

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How to start a book? Write drunk, edit sober.

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I’ve just started a book. As in, writing one. I’m not quite sure how this came about. But as with most thing in my life, they’ve happened while I’ve been doing other things (I’d never even read Cosmopolitan before I became editor of it). Anyway, contracts are signed. I’m off.

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How do you start writing a book? If you’re not writing a book, you might ask, how do you start a big project with multiple layers of complexity and emotion involved? I’ve been seeking an answer for a few months. There’s some common thinking out there, in case you’re wondering. Principally: don’t worrying about the perfect start; just… starting. Vomit forth ideas. Let them unfurl in a mess. Be messy with it. Be loose. Use butchers paper. Get fired up. Creative. No holds barred. Have no structure, no semblance of order.

But don’t edit.

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a sneaky trick for pushing back emails

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You go on holidays. You come home. You have 2937498237 emails in your inbox. Your heart sinks. True?

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The funny thing about this, though, is that when you start wading through them, about 80% are actually redundant – miraculously (!!) the issue or request has either been sorted by someone else or dropped off, deemed not so critically urgent, in your absence. Or the sender of the email actually pauses for half a second and realises they can answer the issue/request themselves. Der.

I’m away for a few weeks and this time I tried a new tactic.

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you look hotter on a bike

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So, I’m here in New York. And it’s bloody hot. I woke at 5:30 am in a sweat and ran around Central Park. I’m staying right on the park – my bed overlooks it. The truly divine thing about New York  is that when it’s hot everyone is out on the streets…and lots of them riding bikes, which is just lovely. The city is slowly becoming very bike friendly. My mate Bec is meeting me today in Bryant Park, riding from Brooklyn. Unreal.

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Dressing for bike riding is an interesting challenge. I personally like to push the parameters. I ride mine around Bondi in heels and skirts, if required. My style and my wardrobe work around cycling. Everything I own is stretchy (in part because I don’t iron). I buy handbags that can sling over my shoulder along with my bike lock. I wear a lot of shorts. Or pants/jeans under dresses. That kind of thing.

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sunday life: in which i learn the beauty of not being right

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This week I choose to not be right (and find beauty in a field beyond right and wrong).

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Ever been stuck in a toxic relationship rut? I mean really stuck.

Perhaps it was with a spouse, a partner, or your boss or neighbour.  An issue arises, they react aggressively, you react just as primitively to their reaction, and so on and on in a spiral of right versus wrong.  Soon, you’ve both sunk into a festering quagmire of codependent hurt. You might know better than to descend like this; perhaps you’ve had therapy. But each time the scab’s knocked off the wound, you retaliate like an old lizard. You’re that stuck.

It’s rotten, this quagmire. Blame and shame turn rancid very quickly. And the detritus of old pain gets awfully sticky and suck-holey. So it’s hard to leave, or to shift the energy in a new direction.

But what if there was another path?

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new york i love you

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I’m off to New York this morning. So posts will be a little thin for a bit. Perhaps.

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I’m off to New York to interview a few people for my column and to start writing my book, which will all happen in the New York State Library (the one in which Carrie was meant to get married to Big in the movie; and where they filmed Ghostbusters….and countless other movies). Seems bizarre to travel all that way to sit in a library. But I reckon it’s going to work. spaceball new york i love you

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I love New York. It’s a place where things happen. And where you can extend yourself.  Everyone tries to put their finger on why the place gels, including Alisha Keys and Jay-Z.

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would you take the free money?

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Earlier this week a bank ran a social experiment with a money tree (but it doesn’t grow on them, right?). It pinned thousands of dollars to a tree in the city and then filmed how people responded. In many respects it reflected what goes on internally for all of us when dealing with anything to do with money. But it also shows how assumed behaviour can be distorted when we’re faced with blatant generosity.

The PR who put on the stunt sent me a few observations which made me smile:

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Mumbrella: on being a media whore and a square peg in the Masterchef hole

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The below popped up on Mumbrella today. If you’re in media, or interested in media, you should definitely subscribe the newsletter. Apart from anything else, Tim Burrows, who runs the site, is one of the industry’s good guys. Knowledgeable, kind, fair, smart. He’s also a wonderful example of what I talk about in the clip … Read more