Shopaholic to the Stars
Page 47
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All the spending-addiction programs were full when I phoned up, but that doesn’t matter, because this really nice girl, Izola, recommended a whole program of general well-being classes for me. The point is, everyone can work on their soul and inner being, because the spiritual muscle needs exercise like any other. (I read that in the brochure.)
I do self-esteem group on Mondays, Compassionate Communication on Tuesdays, The Transitive Self on Wednesdays, and this brilliant class called Tapping for Well-Being on Fridays. Right now it’s a Thursday morning, and I’m in Mindfulness for a Positive Life. At the start of the class, the teacher always says how hard mindfulness is and how it will take time to let go of the outside world, and we mustn’t be impatient with ourselves. But, actually, I find it easy. I think I must be a natural.
The group is quiet, and we’re all meditating on something in the room, which is what we do every week. Luckily, the people at Golden Peace are all really stylish, so there’s always something interesting to meditate on. Today I’m focusing on a gorgeous leather backpack in teal, which the dark-haired girl opposite me has slung below her chair. I want to ask her if they come in slate gray, but perhaps I’ll do that after the class.
“Brian,” says our teacher, Mona, in a soft voice. “Could you please vocalize for us your mindfulness journey today? What are you meditating on?”
I’ve seen Brian before. He’s tall and buff with quite a prominent nose, which is unusual in L.A., and he brings in a Starbucks, although I’m sure that’s not allowed.
“I’m focusing on the grain in the wooden floor,” says Brian, in a stilted voice. “I’m looking at the way the wood swirls around and ebbs and flows. I want to think about my ex-wife, but I’m going to push those thoughts away.” He sounds suddenly fierce. “I’m not going to think about her or her lawyer—”
“Brian, don’t judge yourself,” says Mona gently. “Simply allow your thoughts to return to the floor. Absorb every detail. Every line, every speck, every curve. Be in the moment. Try to reach a heightened sense of awareness.”
Brian exhales. “I’m in the moment,” he says shakily, his eyes riveted on the floor.
“Good!” Mona smiles. “Now, Rebecca?” She turns to me. “We haven’t heard much from you. How is your meditation going today?”
“Great, thanks!” I beam at her.
“What are you meditating on?”
“That bag.” I point. “It’s really nice.”
“Thanks.” The dark-haired girl smiles.
“A bag.” Mona blinks. “That’s different. Are you focusing on the texture of the bag … the buckles … the color?”
“The straps,” I say.
“The straps. Good. Perhaps you could share your meditation with us. Just … give us a stream of consciousness. Take us where your thoughts are going.”
“OK.” I take a deep breath. “Well, I’m thinking that those straps look really comfortable, but it depends how wide your shoulders are, doesn’t it? So then I’m wondering if I could try it after the class. And I’d prefer it in slate gray because I’ve already got a teal leather bag, but, actually, I might give that to my friend Suze because she’s always liked it, and she’s coming out to visit me. In fact, she’s arriving today! And then I’m wondering if they stock them in Barneys, because I’ve got a gift voucher for there, although I have also seen this really nice jacket for my daughter, Minnie, in the children’s department, which I want to get—”
“Rebecca, stop!” Mona holds up a hand, and I come to a halt in surprise. “Stop there!”
What’s wrong? I thought I was doing really well. I was much more interesting than Brian, with his boring old grainy wood.
“Yes?” I say politely.
“Rebecca—let’s remind ourselves of what mindfulness means. It means we bring our attention to the present experience on a moment-to-moment basis.”
“I know.” I nod. “My present experience is thinking about that bag,” I explain. “Is it by Alexander Wang?”
“No, it’s 3.1 Phillip Lim,” says the girl. “I got it online.”
“Oh, right!” I say eagerly. “Which site?”
“I don’t think you understand,” Mona cuts across me. “Rebecca, try to focus on just one aspect of the bag. As soon as you notice your mind wandering off, gently bring it back to the object of attention. OK?”
“But my mind didn’t wander off,” I protest. “I was thinking about the bag the whole time.”
I do self-esteem group on Mondays, Compassionate Communication on Tuesdays, The Transitive Self on Wednesdays, and this brilliant class called Tapping for Well-Being on Fridays. Right now it’s a Thursday morning, and I’m in Mindfulness for a Positive Life. At the start of the class, the teacher always says how hard mindfulness is and how it will take time to let go of the outside world, and we mustn’t be impatient with ourselves. But, actually, I find it easy. I think I must be a natural.
The group is quiet, and we’re all meditating on something in the room, which is what we do every week. Luckily, the people at Golden Peace are all really stylish, so there’s always something interesting to meditate on. Today I’m focusing on a gorgeous leather backpack in teal, which the dark-haired girl opposite me has slung below her chair. I want to ask her if they come in slate gray, but perhaps I’ll do that after the class.
“Brian,” says our teacher, Mona, in a soft voice. “Could you please vocalize for us your mindfulness journey today? What are you meditating on?”
I’ve seen Brian before. He’s tall and buff with quite a prominent nose, which is unusual in L.A., and he brings in a Starbucks, although I’m sure that’s not allowed.
“I’m focusing on the grain in the wooden floor,” says Brian, in a stilted voice. “I’m looking at the way the wood swirls around and ebbs and flows. I want to think about my ex-wife, but I’m going to push those thoughts away.” He sounds suddenly fierce. “I’m not going to think about her or her lawyer—”
“Brian, don’t judge yourself,” says Mona gently. “Simply allow your thoughts to return to the floor. Absorb every detail. Every line, every speck, every curve. Be in the moment. Try to reach a heightened sense of awareness.”
Brian exhales. “I’m in the moment,” he says shakily, his eyes riveted on the floor.
“Good!” Mona smiles. “Now, Rebecca?” She turns to me. “We haven’t heard much from you. How is your meditation going today?”
“Great, thanks!” I beam at her.
“What are you meditating on?”
“That bag.” I point. “It’s really nice.”
“Thanks.” The dark-haired girl smiles.
“A bag.” Mona blinks. “That’s different. Are you focusing on the texture of the bag … the buckles … the color?”
“The straps,” I say.
“The straps. Good. Perhaps you could share your meditation with us. Just … give us a stream of consciousness. Take us where your thoughts are going.”
“OK.” I take a deep breath. “Well, I’m thinking that those straps look really comfortable, but it depends how wide your shoulders are, doesn’t it? So then I’m wondering if I could try it after the class. And I’d prefer it in slate gray because I’ve already got a teal leather bag, but, actually, I might give that to my friend Suze because she’s always liked it, and she’s coming out to visit me. In fact, she’s arriving today! And then I’m wondering if they stock them in Barneys, because I’ve got a gift voucher for there, although I have also seen this really nice jacket for my daughter, Minnie, in the children’s department, which I want to get—”
“Rebecca, stop!” Mona holds up a hand, and I come to a halt in surprise. “Stop there!”
What’s wrong? I thought I was doing really well. I was much more interesting than Brian, with his boring old grainy wood.
“Yes?” I say politely.
“Rebecca—let’s remind ourselves of what mindfulness means. It means we bring our attention to the present experience on a moment-to-moment basis.”
“I know.” I nod. “My present experience is thinking about that bag,” I explain. “Is it by Alexander Wang?”
“No, it’s 3.1 Phillip Lim,” says the girl. “I got it online.”
“Oh, right!” I say eagerly. “Which site?”
“I don’t think you understand,” Mona cuts across me. “Rebecca, try to focus on just one aspect of the bag. As soon as you notice your mind wandering off, gently bring it back to the object of attention. OK?”
“But my mind didn’t wander off,” I protest. “I was thinking about the bag the whole time.”
