twenty

I went on doggedly applying Claude’s advice, day after day. By now I knew by heart what I needed to do to get myself into the virtuous-circle column. But as he often said, the important thing was not to know but to do! He was always praising the benefits of regularity and tenacity.

By the end of the fourth month, I had the impression that I had crossed a critical threshold: I was beginning to really appreciate my new way of living, eating, moving, thinking . . . I was on the brink of reaching the famous mind/body reconciliation the Asian teachings so insist on. The few minutes I spent every day on exercises and stretching had put me back in touch with my body. A body that, somehow, I had not really been living in until now. I ended up enjoying the exercises and even looked forward to how they made me feel.

When I walked in the street, I tried occasionally to imagine my body as a hyphen linking sky and earth, to feel myself as part of a great totality rather than as an isolated entity lost in nature. I became aware of just how cut off I had been from my feelings. But from now on I was determined to live in the present. Gone were the days wasted in going over and over the past or in torturing myself about the future. It was so relaxing!

I also began to realize the role that nature and fresh air could play in my physical and mental well-being. Having grown up surrounded by concrete and pollution, I had convinced myself I didn’t like nature. But I’d had entirely the wrong impression of it, imagining millions of tiny crawling or flying creatures lying in wait in vast, silent green landscapes that promised the epitome of boredom. Getting in touch with nature again brought me unexpected comfort. I would never have thought I could absorb so much energy from its marvels.

One day Claude decided to introduce me to ikebana, the Japanese floral art that aims to relax and calm the spirit by creating a silent dialogue with nature. We set out for a walk in the country armed with clippers to gather plants. Then, under his watchful eye, I had fun creating a “floral poem” that combined a subtle balance of shapes and colors.

Whereas before I never had time to be still, now I spent several minutes each day in front of the Zen hearth that I had built. Inspired by the Japanese tokonoma, it was an alcove decorated with a kakemono scroll painting, an ikebana floral composition, and several symbolic objects: a candelabra, a statue, a work of art. I had found the perfect spot for it, a small, previously unused corner at the far end of the living room. I placed a long, plain vase on the floor to put my ikebana creations in. On the wall I hung three different-sized cubes. Each of them contained items to inspire and motivate me: the first had a laughing Buddha and next to it a pretty postcard with the inscription “To do what you love is freedom; to love what you do is happiness.” The second had a beautiful candle and my three favorite books of the moment. In the third were a family photo of the three of us and a small statue of the venerated Hindu god Shiva, often presented as “the auspicious one.” A few soft, brightly colored cushions on the floor encouraged a contemplative break from routine.

Whenever I felt stressed out, I treated myself to a few moments of peace in this corner, staring at the candle flame until I was almost hypnotized by it.

This change in my philosophy of life sustained me from within. As the weeks went by, I felt a great deal less anxious, less agitated. I also became aware that in the past I had tended to focus on my disappointments. No wonder I was chronically out of sorts.

Claude had suggested an antidote to this negativity: to find room every day for a few “moments of gratitude.” And so I got up each morning with a “thank you” in my head and went to bed each night with the same thought. Thanks for having a healthy son, having a roof over my head, of living in a country at peace. Thanks for having a companion alongside me to love and support me. I even got into the habit of giving thanks for less important things: a steaming-hot cup of coffee in the early morning, an apple tart shared with my family.

I also took to heart the idea of taking care, every day, of the people and things around me. Taking care of a plant, an animal, of yourself, of your loved ones, but also of everyone you met on your way who might need it. “You only live insofar as you give,” Claude had quite rightly said to me once. He had also sent me a book of the Dalai Lama’s thoughts to nurture my new mind-set. He had taken care to underline some passages with a marker.

A few phrases in particular stayed with me, such as “By encouraging altruism, love, tenderness, and compassion, one discourages hatred, desire, or pride.”

Such ideas had always resonated with me, but in recent years, out of laziness or carelessness, I had let them slip. The secret was never to stop acting on them. To think of them every day. If you don’t, you quickly resume the default position of making no effort. And bad habits along with it.

I also liked this quote: “Some people see the mud at the bottom of the pond; others gaze at the lotus flower floating on the surface. The choice is yours.”

This seemed to me a good illustration of the different ways people view life. Little by little, I became aware of what makes for happiness: becoming involved—in a loving relationship, a family, work; it didn’t really matter what!

As for what gives life meaning, it now seemed to me that it involved getting to know how to give the best of yourself based on the qualities that made up your true identity. Be good at what you do and be good to others. Wasn’t that the key?

Some might object that they are not good at anything. That in fact they are bad at everything. By now I was convinced that such people simply have too many toxins in their mind-set. The good news is that it is perfectly possible to detoxify your mind and reveal your potential for development. Everyone has good qualities. The trick is to identify them, then help them flourish. This will give you the essence of what is best in you.

All this was going through my mind when I received a message from Claude that echoed my own thoughts:

Good morning, Camille! Your tasks for the coming three weeks: positive thinking, autosuggestion, and meditation. You need to practice these every day if you’re going to reprogram your mind-set. You’re going to be busy! But it’s all in a good cause, isn’t it?

I sent him a text in return: Why three weeks?

He replied immediately: That’s the shortest length of time it takes for change to take root and become a habit.

Together with this he had sent me a small package. I rushed to open it. Within some bubble wrap was a kind of glass jam jar. It looked nice but for some reason made me wary. Inside it, Claude had inserted a scroll of paper. I unscrewed the top and took out the message. It ran for two long pages:

Camille,

Here is your swear-jar . . . It will be a kind of store to prevent wallowing and negative thoughts. You are to put a euro in the jar each time you have a pessimistic idea or say anything unconstructive. I can only hope you don’t end up with a fortune in there!

I can’t repeat this enough: positive thoughts have a real impact on your body and your psyche. Some very serious studies prove it. Here’s one example, an experiment carried out under scientific conditions. They filled two containers about the size of a dessert plate with the same amount of earth. Then they planted twenty-three grass seeds in each of them, with the same amount of compost. They put them in a greenhouse next to each other to make sure they would receive exactly the same amount of sunshine each day and enjoy the same temperatures while the seeds were germinating.

The only difference was as follows: three times a day, each of the researchers took turns to sit in front of both containers. In front of the first, they said very negative things, attacking the seeds verbally: “Nothing will ever grow here, nothing is going to happen, this will never produce grass, I really don’t think this soil is fertile. And even if it does grow, I’m sure it’s going to wither and die . . .” In front of the second pot, they behaved completely differently: they were confident and said nice things. They were very positive about the seeds germinating and the possibility of seeing grass grow: “I can hardly wait to see these seeds sprout—it’s going to be great! The weather is fine, the temperature is perfect, that’s going to help as well. I’ve got green fingers, everything I plant is a success.”

Three weeks later, a photo of the two pots appeared in Time magazine. I hardly need tell you that from the first pot, which had been exposed to the negative comments, only two or three feeble shoots had sprouted. The second, on the other hand, was covered in a dark green grass, deeply rooted in the soil and already robust and tall. I’m sure you’ve understood my point, Camille: our words give off vibes. Our attitude as well. If they have such an amazing influence on seeds, just imagine the effect they can produce on people! That’s why we have to pay as much attention to our inner dialogue as to our comments to others. Why not make a start today?

Hoping to see you soon,

Claude

I was impressed by the example he had given me and more than ready to try to change. But I sensed how difficult it would be for me, as I had for so long been in the habit of expressing the negative rather than the positive. Claude had warned me: just as the athlete has to train every day, so reprogramming one’s thoughts demands tenacity and effort. Not to mention being vigilant all the time, because it’s so easy for the mind to slip back into the bad old habits if you’re not careful. I promised myself I would be extra vigilant and put the jar on the bookshelves in the living room where I could see it easily. I even decided to see if the men of the family would play the game as well.

Adrien really liked the idea.

The next morning, Sebastien emerged from the bedroom, clearly grumpy after a night without much sleep. He went over to the window.

“God, look at this weather. It’s so depressing.”

I didn’t even need to say anything: Adrien did it for me.

“Dad! One euro!” he cried, delighted to have caught his father out.

Sebastien started to protest but quickly stopped when he realized that the more he grumbled, the more money he would have to put in the jar.

“No, no, no! OK, I won’t do it anymore, I don’t want to end up completely broke.”

And he went over to give his “guardian of the positive” a big hug.

As for me, I tried every day to practice “positive thoughts and attitude.” To alter the way I put things. To make them not negative but positive. To make them not passive but active. A real mental somersault!

I had printed out a short fable that Claude had sent me and that I often reread. It’s the story of a man who goes looking for a wise man to learn from him.

“Tell me, you who are so wise, what is in your mind?”

“In my mind there are two dogs, one black and one white.

“The black dog is full of hate, anger, and pessimism. The white one is filled with love, generosity, and optimism. They fight all the time.”

His disciple is rather taken aback.

“Two dogs? Who fight each other?”

“Yes, almost all the time.”

“And which one wins?”

“The one I feed more.”

It was clear that for years my thoughts must have been much more like a large Doberman pinscher than a pretty little Maltese puppy. Well, I’d just have to adjust the canine register of my mind. In a manner of speaking.

Claude added another principle to my already long list, one that came from the Emperor Augustus’s favorite adage: Festina lente, or “Make haste slowly.” It seems that like many other people, I habitually confused speed and haste. In recent years I had spent my time doing everything quickly and badly, living like a fly caught in a jar, buzzing around, beating my head against the glass walls of life, and not allowing myself the time to sit back and take stock.

So I urged myself to live life more slowly. To refuse to accept the tyranny of the fast lane. To act, of course, but not to give in to useless pressure. To understand the huge difference between good and bad stress.

I was putting this into practice at work when I received a fresh message from Claude. He was suggesting yet another mystery rendezvous the following Wednesday. At an address in Charenton-le-Pont. All he said was that I should bring a swimsuit and a towel.

A swimsuit? But there was absolutely no way I wanted to go swimming!