Sarah Wilson

I like this idea…British scientist Sydney Smith wrote a letter to an unhappy female friend in the early 1800s. It listed 20 things to do to be happy.

you can just tell they like each other

I liked his comments on friends, points 6 and 7:

6. See as much as you can of those friends who respect and like you.
7. And of those acquaintances who amuse you.

It’s a good delineation and formula, don’t you think. So much can grow from an interaction if the foundation is simply “they like me, they get me”.

For me, when there is this is the energy between me and my closest mates, I become more likeable.

Do you find when you’re with a “friend” who you sense doesn’t really get you, you misbehave?  I have an old friend who has it in her head that I don’t have time for her and posits my life as pretentious and “too Sydney”. So, of course I find myself really unreliable in making time for her. And with a fake tan whenever I see her (or at least looking like I have one).  I mirror her expectations of me.

On the acquaintance front: sometimes I just crave the skim-the-surface-flirtatiously interaction you can have with someone you don’t really have a lot in common with, but who has a light energy. The interaction is very now. Very much about the sport of communicating.

So, a few days ago I gave my account of coping with thyroid disease . Now I’ve asked some experts who I’ve encountered along the way to share their experience. And some advice. It’s certainly helped me…

I've used this pic purely because she's wearing the same kinda glasses as me!

But before I do – just quickly – a random thyroid factoid someone once presented to me:

Most people with Hashimoto’s (and perhaps other auto immune diseases, too) suffered some sort of trauma about 18 months prior to the onset of symptoms. I’m not sure how backed-with-facts this is. But whenever I ask sufferers they totally agree. It fits my story. How about you?

But now, to the lovely Angela Hywood…

This week I go streamlined on a single-speed bike

You might’ve noticed everyone’s into “simplifying”. It’s very recessional chic right now. People from all walks are chucking stuff out and packing up what’s left to go live in Bali. Or on a goat farm. Luxury car manufacturers and banks are flogging simplicity in their advertising slogans and a new self-help genre has spawned showing us how to consolidate our remote controls and live without a waffle-maker.

Admittedly, I’ve previously ridden this altruistic bandwagon myself, decluttering my books and hosing out my email inbox. But I’m now wondering if “streamlining” isn’t a better way to go. “Simplifying” tends to have a certain The Good Life vibe to it, don’t you think – a bit grubby, earnest and requiring a fulltime commitment to composting. When, let’s face it, most of us could relate to Penelope Keith when she’d look over the fence in despair at her neighbours’ muddy mess.

Simplifying is about reversing our erroneous ways, uprooting our lives and ridding ourselves of things. Which is kind of sad and harsh and really hard to achieve. Streamlining, however, is gentle. It’s about shaving off excess, and perhaps steering the boat a little to the left, for a more flow-y ride. It’s a smooth, glide-y ethos for life, and an elegant aesthetic. No gumboots required. Yes, streamlining makes life better. Of that I’m sure.

This thinking started a month ago when I looked over at my dual-suspension, knobbly-tyred mountain bike in the hall and thought, what a cluttery, clumpy contraption you are!

healing auto-immune disease: wear good red socks for this long journey!

I’ve been promising this for ages: a rundown of what I’ve done to get on top of my Hashimoto’s (hypoactive thyroid disease), and to throw in some advice from practitioners I’ve turned to for help (to follow in subsequent posts).

A few things first:

* If you don’t have auto-immune disease, you’ll still find this interesting. IMO, auto-immune suffereers are the proverbial canaries down the mineshaft. Our symptoms are signals of what our lifestyles are doing to all of us, a reflection of the over-toxic, hyper-adrenal, sugary, sleep-deprived, anxious lives we’re living. Again, IMO, Auto-immune disease types have particularly sensitive systems – for a whole range of reasons (hereditary, trauma-related) – and so we tip over the edge more easily.  The rest of the world should see us as nifty warning beacons and heed our lifestyle tips!

* The below is advice I’d give to myself, if I could go back two years, to avoid the very bumpy journey I’ve had to ride toward a better understanding of the disease. I’m not giving advice to anyone else. Really, I aim only to inspire you to ask questions and find what works for you. And that’s the thing – there is no one cause or fix. Also – and this is the blessing – in the searching for your own answers, you come to learn a lot of really important stuff about yourself…that you’ve wanted to find out for a long time. Which is why you got sick…. More on this below. Finally, I refer directly to Hashimotos, but much of the thinking applies equally to other AI diseases.

* Feel free to send me your tips and I’ll post them as well.

OK, so here goes. I’ll do it as a Q and A for ease.

The other night I was having dinner with my mate Helen. We met about 16 years ago in Canberra, when she was starting out as a Channel 7 news reporter; I served her coffee at the this place in the city and was doing a political internship at the time. We then crossed paths briefly when she was deputy editor at The Sunday Telegraph and I was on Sunday Magazine. But we’ve mostly dined together, rather than work together.

The other night we were talking about not drinking. I’m obviously doing FebFast.

it was hard to miss, really...

Helen’s not drinking because it’s a ritual she does each year. At dinner we almost fell off our stools we were so chuffed to be able to go out and not drink. We were beaming from our livers. Anyway, she had these thoughts on the matter….

Three years ago I decided to give up the booze in January for six weeks.

The decision followed a particularly busy few months socialising in the lead up to Christmas and the start of a very busy new year. So I decided to test myself and check out the life of a non-drinker which I have always suspected was rather dull.

I like the gentle melancholy of this new blog unhappyhipster.com. It does little more than run arty shots of hipters* with smart captions.

I guess it’s taking the piss. But it doesn’t really poke fun at the people. No, I think it’s more about reflecting on our fascination with this quiet, ephemeral aesthetic. And loneliness.

This week I happily and surely go sober.

You see, I’m the ambassador for FebFast, an initiative that invites Australians to go sober in February and raise money for a bunch of substance abuse charities.

If you want to join my FebFast team go to this link…here! The password is detoxme. We’re currently the leading team, so you might as well back a winner. My MasterChef crew have joined, as have a bunch of writer/magazine/actor mates. Stay tuned in February. They’ll be sharing their sober thoughts here.

It started when I attended this charity cocktail event.  It was a thoroughly ra-ra affair with much champagne flowing to keep conversation loose and women vertical (without the numbing effect of booze, I swear, we couldn’t stand as long as we do in heels). However, I wasn’t drinking.

When you don’t drink you confuse people.

This is a new addition to my blog – food I like. From time to time I’ll flag a new food/food discovery that does good things – ethically, environmentally and nutritionally, or just in a makes-me-happy-when-it-sets-off-a-salivary-explosion-in-my-very-being kinda way.

First up, is Loving Earth’s organic, raw chocalate (slogan: healthy, sustainable, fair). I eat it as a twice-a-week treat after lunch. It melts in your mouth and feels like a food stuff, not a guilty indulgence. Where to buy it in your state? Click here.

Five things to like:

1. the rawness bit: the cacao beans are not roasted, keeping the phytonutrients intact. Raw chocolate has twice the antioxidants of its normal, processed cousin.

2. the fact it contains no sugar (or dairy) : it’s sweetened instead with wildcrafted agave nectar, a type of cactus. It’s low-GI and is OK for diabetics and hypoglycaemics and people like me whose stomachs flare up from the white stuff. In fact, all the ingredients are superfoods, including the Himalayan crystal salt they use.

Just now I ate flaxseed tortilla chips with three anchovies drizzled – or is it draped? – over the top. And a cucumber. Which confirms the rumours: I’m an eccentric eater.

But one thing I’m rather conservative about, or at least consistent with, is my tea. Twice a day I make a pot of green “Queen Peony” tea in this teapot and drink it from this cup (cast your eyes below).

I bought the pot in New York 15 years ago; I love rubbing the little booby things. And I love that the frog makes no sense.

The cup and saucer, I found at the dump about 20 years ago (in Canberra, a company has scavenging rights at the main dump and on-sells cool stuff they find amidst the nappies and paddlepop wrapper; my housemate worked there and I got a discount!). And I’ve been obsessed with green tea for years (honestly, it gives a far more dignified jolt of energy than coffee, and it’s so good for balancing your digestion).

I find comfort in this ritual. I talked about this yesterday. I’m a bit obsessed by the value of ritual at the moment. I used to think I hated it. My mum always said I needed to tame my manic mind and restless legs with ritual and I’d tell her that sounded boring. But now I can see that it creates moments of special pause in your day. A retreat from haphazardness. And when you own it as your own, you can like yourself a bit for the quirkiness of it all.

Muriel Barbery picks up on this in her friggen amazingly astute and philosophically delicate novel The Elegance of the Hedgehog. You can order it You Know Where. The main character sits down to tea:

“I know that tea is no minor beverage. When tea becomes ritual, it takes its place at the heart of our ability to see greatness in small things. Where is beauty to be found? In great things that, like everything else are doomed to die, or in small things that aspire to nothing, yet know how to set a jewel of infinity in a single moment?

The tea ritual: such a precise repetition of the same gestures and the same tastes; accession to simple, authentic and refined sensations, a licence granted to all, at little cost, to become aristocrats of taste, because tea is the beverage of the wealthy and of the poor…. Yes, the world may aspire to vacuousness, insignificance surrounds us. Then let us drink a cup of tea. Silence descends…”

Ok, that’s enough typing for now.

…down at Bondi, a quick sand run and a float in the ocean, looking up at the sky and getting into the right mood for the day.

This has been my routine for years. I’ve watched one woman, in this time, get pregnant and – bounce back again – twice!! There’s the over-tanned older lady who sand shuffles in a bright bikini with a matching hat. She always matches. And waves. I feel her happinss as she shuffles past. There’s the Russian body builders whose veins bulge at the neck. Dr Chris Brown is a regular. The Bondi Rescue boys always sing out encouragement. I’ve even had two blind running dates (sweat, sand, lycra and a 6.30 rendez-vous…anyone else up for it?)

This is my community. When you have a routine, you can tap into a community.

Routine can also make life simple. Each morning I wear the same green shorts and this red hat (it’s about seven years old now). I don’t have to think about what I wear. I dress and run. I don’t have to think about what makes me happy. This routine does. I just gravitate to it each day and I start my day happy.

This morning I ran into these cheeky kids (Deb and Sammy). Eugene from Aquabumbs took the pic. If you go to his site you’ll also see my mate Stu, who’s in my ‘hood, too.

“It’s the people that you meet, when you’re walking in the street…”.