Memories are funny things, but not as funny as self-help books

The Monkeys are here of course. By that I mean accentmonkey and her husband, Mr. Monkey. So there's been a lot of sitting around in the sunshine (after work for me) having a beer and shooting the breeze about everyone and everything going on in Ireland.

Nostalgia rules.

And then out of the blue yesterday, a friend of mine from college turns up on Facebook. We figured it out last night; I hadn't seen her for over six years.

She hasn't changed ONE LITTLE BIT.

She has a converted ambulance called Bessie that she camps in.

Of course she does. I expect nothing less than a converted ambulance.

Except maybe a converted fire truck.

I'm sure that's on the To Do List.

Tor always had the best To Do lists.

I wonder whether Albert the Stationwagon and Bessie the Converted Ambulance would get on?

Probably, their owners always did.

Anyways, it brought back a lot of memories of an apartment we shared on the North Circular Rd in Dublin way back in 1989/ 90.

The other hippie chick in my life, little sister, sent me a book for my birthday. A self-help book. I don't usually read them, but as it was a gift I did. It's called The Monk who sold his Ferrari, by Robin Sharma.

I am now very conflicted about said book.

There were a lot of very inspiring quotes in the book. None of which were written by Mr. Sharma, of course. The bits he wrote were very badly written. The premise of the book is that

1. We are all walking around with an illusion of the world created by the fact that we had to conform to our parents (and thereby other people) in order to feel loved.

2. That blindness prevents us from accessing our true selves, and consequently we all hurt and do nasty things to each other.

3. When we strip away the illusion and see the world as it really is, and re-invent our innocent pure selves, the Universe will reward us with abundance.

4. This takes a lot of effort: meditation, yoga, reading, journalling, massage, diet, walks in the countryside will all help to keep us healthy and work through the anger. Going to seminars is helpful too. (I assume Mr. Sharma does seminars).

5. Most people can't do this, but those who can live 'the biggest life possible'.

Mr. Sharma was a little sketchy on the details of the biggest life possible, but it involved appreciating nature and the people in your life. And service to mankind.

My problems with these books is that the people who are the main characters are always highly successful businessmen who have a crisis of health which leads to a crisis of conscience, and then realise (with the help of a shaven-headed guru who drives a Ferrari that they don't own) that if they are nicer people, they will get to keep their money and have a shiny soul as well.

I would like to read a book about a woman who works in a call centre in Windsor, for example, who goes home each evening to three kids, a useless husband and a mother with Alzheimer's, who gets totally fed up and leaves. When she opens her heart to the universe, she ends up being the next Martha Stewart (in income terms) and finds peace sailing the world in a flashy yacht that she doesn't own.

But it never works like that in those books.

I should write the anti-self-help book.

It would help me work through the anger.

Anyways, I opened my heart to the universe last night and the universe responded by dumping two inches of rain on my yard this morning, and made me get up at 5.30am to drive Himself to work so I could have Albert for the day.

I didn't even get to admire the sunrise, as it was too foggy.