Your Second Life Begins When You Realize You Only Have One

by Raphaelle Giordano

  The results were surprising: four approaches in twenty minutes! The first two gentlemen told me I had a lovely smile. The third invited me for a coffee. The fourth gave me his card and asked if I’d like to go on a date. Needless to say, this did wonders for my self-esteem! I reveled in this proof of my powers of seduction. And I dropped a small positive anchor, to help me on gray days in the future.

  At the office, my change of attitude did not go unnoticed either. For fun, I adapted my role model according to the situation. Sometimes I became Steve Jobs, which made me much more confident. At others, I was an athlete like Serena Williams, with a calm strength that could overcome anyone and anything. It became a game for me, and I was amazed at the effect it had on my mind-set and my office life. I was so much more grounded that it seemed to make my colleagues respect me, whereas before I had been the butt of their often sarcastic jibes. The effect was enhanced further because my transformation was accompanied by an unusual enthusiasm for work, which in recent months I had been finding boring, not to say nauseating. This change of course was thanks to more advice from Claude, who recommended that I adopt an attitude of “acting as if”: a psychological technique that consisted in acting as if this job was the most exciting in the whole wide world. “Get out of it everything that’s even the slightest bit interesting. You need to live life at four hundred percent instead of wallowing in your dissatisfaction and hoping that a solution will drop from the skies,” he had told me.

  For several days I had worked my socks off, smiled right, left, and center, and my boss was among the first to notice.

  “Camille, I haven’t seen you like this in ages. You’re full of energy at the moment, and I like it! Are you sure you don’t want to go back to working full-time? Think about it—it could be really good.”

  I could hardly believe it. I was coming out of my shell and being praised to the heavens at the same time. Not only was I flattered, but I was triumphant. It felt like a kind of revenge against the boss who had been undervaluing me. And yet, was it what I really wanted?

  Despite that niggling doubt, my increasingly positive attitude continued to spread through the office. Even Baldy was looking at me differently, and the idea that I had brought him up short after all the smart-ass comments I had had to put up with from him felt really good. But the new Camille did not want to waste time gloating. The new Camille had promised Claude to undertake all the exercises he was proposing, and one of them, as he reminded me in a text, was that I should look beyond appearances: “Everyone deserves a chance. You have to suspend judgment and any preconceptions. I challenge you to approach someone you’re not keen on and get to know him or her better . . .”

  Really? I had about as much desire to get to know Franck better as I had to shoot myself. When I recalled how often he had given me a hard time, I felt more like keeping my distance forever. But getting to know him better was one of the boxes to tick in my Promises Notebook, and “not kept” was not an option.

  So one Thursday morning I took the bull by the horns and went over to his desk.

  “Hi, Franck. Do you have any plans for lunch? I thought we might get a bite together—it’d give us time to talk about things.”

  I could feel a wave of amazement travel round the whole open-plan office. No one wanted to miss this. I saw Franck cast a sideways glance at our colleagues as though to gauge how they thought he should reply. In a wonderful display of solidarity, they all buried their heads in their screens.

  “Ah, oh, yes, why not?” he finally managed to stammer.

  And so we found ourselves eating lunch together. He had steak tartare, I had salade niçoise. The tables had been turned: he was shifting in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. Whereas normally he always tried to get one over on me and poked fun at me without the slightest qualm, he had now been completely floored by my unexpected gesture. Masks were coming off . . .

  I tried to relax the atmosphere by smiling like a good friend and praising him for his talents as a salesman.

  “I’ve never told you this, but I admire your technique. I’m not surprised you’re the number one in the team.”

  This compliment made him blush. I’d never seen him do that before.

  “Camille,” he replied in a gruff voice, “I haven’t always been very kind to you . . . and I’d like to apologize. You know how it is, you want to show off in front of your friends and you get caught in your own trap. I just want to say that I’ve always thought you were very brave, working such a high-pressured job at the same time as bringing up your son.”

  Now it was my turn to blush. So our defenses were breached by a shared smile, and the rest of lunch was far more pleasant. Franck was passionate about model aircraft, and his eyes gleamed like a child’s when he spoke of making his own miniature planes. He also admitted that sometimes he felt fed up with work as well. He thought he had gone as far as he could but couldn’t summon the energy to look for another job. We ended up talking about our families, and to my surprise I learned that he had been divorced the previous year and how hard it had been for him, particularly being separated from his children.

  “I’m sorry, I had no idea . . .”

  “I haven’t told anyone in the office.”

  It was my turn to see him in a new light, and I felt a bit ashamed that I had judged him so hastily and superficially. His sarcastic comments had probably been a way to shield himself and keep us at a distance, to disguise how raw his emotions were. It just showed how wrong you could be about people when you didn’t pay proper attention or take the time to understand them. Now that I had scratched beneath the surface a little, I found that this colleague whom I had always seen as a prickly hedgehog was in fact a sensitive and rather engaging guy.

  We left the restaurant satisfied with our conversation.

  “It’s been good to talk to you,” he said simply.

  “Yes, I had a good time. Should we do it again?”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  He unleashed a broad smile.

  This was another thing I saw for the first time that day: Franck’s smile.

  nineteen

  I hadn’t been so nervous since the oral exam at the end of my degree. I was in Claude’s office to take stock of the progress I had made over the last four months. Yes, it had been four months since I started out on what I liked to call my Butterfly Program. I still had the chrysalis stuck to my body, but the metamorphosis was under way, and I already felt like another person. It seemed to me as if I had lived those four months more intensely than all the previous five years! I could feel an incredible renewal of energy and a sharpening of my intellectual focus. Claude would probably explain this phenomenon as resulting from endorphins and other hormones, boosted thanks to positive thinking, smiles, and the feeling of taking charge of my life again.

  Claude greeted me warmly.

  “How are you?”

  “Good, thank you. I think things are moving in the right direction.”

  “Great. So we’re going to assess how far you’ve achieved your objectives. How does that sound?”

  “All right by me.”

  “Let’s start with the things you’ve done. Have you brought your Promises Notebook?”

  “Yes, here it is.”

  Nervously, I handed him the little spiral notebook. Among the boxes I had ticked: “Smile at ten people at least every day”; “Take greater care of myself and of how I look”; “Choose an image/style that highlights my personality.”

  “Great progress, Camille! Congratulations.”

  But there was a box I hadn’t ticked: “Lose ten pounds.”

  “Let’s take a look at that.”

  He pointed to a bathroom scale and waved me to get on it. I swallowed, nervous of the result.

  “That’s one hundred forty-two pounds. You’ve lost eleven pounds. Well done, Camille. Now you can tick the box.”
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br />   I was so proud of myself! I’d finally shed those extra ten pounds.

  Claude continued to examine my list.

  A box that was ticked: “Do exercises wherever you are.”

  Another one: “Develop your love life.”

  “You’ve put that down as ‘ongoing.’”

  I cleared my throat and explained: “Yes, I’m trying different things, but Sebastien doesn’t yet seem a hundred percent convinced.”

  “That’s only normal. All these changes must seem extraordinary to him. Keep going, I’m sure it’ll work.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “What about the Positive Notebook? Have you been keeping it regularly?”

  “Yes, here it is.”

  Claude leafed through the book where I had written down my recent pleasant memories:

  My rose bush has produced a new bloom.

  Board game with Adrien, a real bonding moment.

  Successful lunch with Franck, my former office nemesis.

  Four men came up to me because they found me attractive.

  Treated the whole family to a delicious home-cooked meal.

  “Camille, I have to say that I’m really proud of you. I think you deserve this . . .”

  Opening a drawer, he handed me a pretty little box with a ribbon that I recognized by now. I was so pleased to open it and find a new charm: this time it was a green lotus. I added it to the two others on the chain. Another level! I’d been awarded a green belt in changing my life . . . This was getting serious. I smiled calmly and sensibly—the smile of a person who had matured a lot in a very short time—but inside it felt like Carnival time in Rio! I wanted to run out into the street and hug the passersby. I was as happy as the day Adrien got an A+ on his exams. I could have downed a bottle of bubbly!

  Claude brought me back to earth.

  “You’ve made a good start, but there’s still a long way to go. I suggest we work for a moment on your next set of objectives. Is that all right?”

  I agreed.

  An hour later, we read out together the steadily lengthening list:

  Continue to adopt positive techniques to increase a state of Zen and harmony.

  Continue to work on relationship with Sebastien.

  Set boundaries with Adrien but work toward easing tension between us.

  Clarify the new project for work. Study its feasibility and the ways to make it happen. Start carrying it out.

  I couldn’t help giving a deep sigh. To think that only a few moments earlier I had been jumping for joy . . . Claude saw how discouraged I was and said, “Don’t give up, Camille. Remember the saying ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day.’ Keep focused on each task, every mission.”

  “Thanks, Claude. Really, thank you for everything you’re doing for me.”

  He shook my hand warmly, visibly pleased at my progress. How many people would work so hard to help someone like this with no guarantee of being paid? Frankly, I thought he was crazy, but I had to admire him for it.

  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 floa
ting 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: