In my brother's latest blog post (Travelling With Gershom), he ponders our interactions with strangers - when people we don't know strike up a conversation with us how do we react? Do we engage them or do we nod and make a quick escape? Maybe the stranger shared way too much information - do we recoil?

My reaction is usually a negative one, especially if there was a bit TMI involved. In general, I tend to walk around thinking people are idiots. Maybe this is something I should work on ... I don't think it's conducive to my crunchy granola aspirations.

My brother's wife suggested that when strangers talk to us we have an opportunity to brighten their day. Hmmm, interesting. She's right. Why not spend an extra two minutes at the corner store and respond to the shopkeeper ... why not add something to the conversation instead of trying to think of a way to politely end it?

I think I'll try this. And maybe if I approach it genuinely, without the sense that I am humouring the stranger or sacrificing my time, I might just get something out of it ... the good feeling of making a connection with a fellow human being. Reaching out and engaging with a stranger could prove to be a very positive and uplifting experience ... as long as the stranger doesn't act like a bloody idiot.

The road to Biddydom and all of the swell stuff that goes with it has led me down the path to guided meditation. I take a few moments each day to listen to a podcast, courtesy of the Meditation Society of Australia. I have been doing this for a couple for months now and, like a hippie version of one of Pavlov's dogs, I instantly "go deep within my soul" on hearing a male Australian accent. A trip to Australia would spell disaster for me as a surfing lesson with a young blond surf dude would surely end in my drowning.

Through these meditation sessions I have trained myself to focus ... no longer does my mind wander to the grocery list, or to my imaginary life on the Yorkshire Dales. Instead, I concentrate on my breath and "breathe in the infinite peace of the spiritual universe".

I was a quick study at this meditation stuff. I thought I had it in the bag. Until I came to class twenty-six, a lesson ironically titled: Listening.

The dulcet tones of my Australian guru floated out of my super-cool burnt orange iPod ... wait that was very un-hippie and superficial of me, let me rephrase that ... the dulcet tones of my Australian guru floated out of my nondescript portable media player and into my ears and I immediately felt a sense of calm. I hung on to his every word as I sunk deeper and deeper into the inner depths of my soul:

"Listening is the foundation of change. Listening keeps us young and flexible - not listening makes us stagnant and unyielding."

I hear ya, mate. Stagnant and unyielding. NO to stagnant and unyielding. Ohm.

"Listening to others is the first doorway to flow of love between you. Listening to oneself is the doorway of infinite flow of love within and between all things."

The love is flowing. Infinitely. I am deep within myself. Ohm.

"For us to truly listen the first thing we must do is make ourselves quiet. Noise is all around and inside us there is a cacophony of worry and doubts and fears ...."

Yes I must make myself quiet ... wait ... did he say cacophony? Wow. That's a word you don't hear everyday. Cacophony. I like it. CaCOPHony. CacophONY. I must look that up later, get the actual definition. I know it means a hubbub of sound but I really like reading dictionary definitions of words. Who writes dictionary definitions anyway? It must be the best job in the world if you are a lover of words. I have a great job too ... being home with the youngsters is very fulfilling. Oh, that reminds me. I better not forget to help the Big Youngster with that French homework tonight. I wonder what cacophony is in French. I'll look that up too. Do we even own a French-English dictionary? I'll just have to look it up on the net. Or I can go to Chapters to get one. Ooooh Starbucks! Skinny Vanilla Latte - Mmmmm.

"Thank you for giving us your time, we know it is precious and we're honoured you've spent it with us. Namaste."

Huh? It's over? Oh dear. I wasn't listening.

I turned off my super-cool burnt orange iPod and contemplated how I had failed at listening during a class called "listening". But was it really my fault? Casually throwing a word like cacophony into the middle of a meditation lesson? What was my Australian man thinking? Cacophony? What's next? Phantasmagorical? Serendipitously? There is no place for words like these in guided meditation - they are far too distracting. How am I supposed to find my pathway to enlightenment when words like that are not flowing out of my iPod but romping out of it, loudly and rudely into my doorway of infinite love???

I took a breath and scrolled up through the list of podcasts. Time to go back to class twenty-two: Anger.

I’m a wannabe hippie. I eat granola-topped pro-biotic yogurt every single morning. I am addicted to green and ginger tea. I practice yoga and meditation (my New Year's resolution to do so daily). I am currently on my on again-off again vegetarian diet … and nothing makes me happier than pouring some Omega 3 wild fish oil down the ol’ hatch … to maintain overall health and support cognitive and cardiovascular health.

Knowing of my crunchy-granola aspirations, good ol’ Santy Claus stuffed a Real Simple magazine in my stocking. The blurbs on the cover left me wanting more: feel calmer now, make dinner faster, make your clothes last longer, simplify your beauty routine. Sounded like a “simple living” magazine to me. Great – I looked forward to ideas on how to de-clutter my life and live greener. Well done, Santa, and how nicely this magazine will complement my other magazine subscriptions - Body and Soul and Yoga Journal. Hippie wannabe indeed.

I couldn’t wait to settle in and read the thing from cover to cover … but the conditions had to be perfect. I needed peace and quiet. I needed a big chunk of uninterrupted “me” time. So Real Simple sat under the Christmas tree, untouched. It was as if I was half starved to death with an amazing feast in front of me that wasn’t mine to have … I drooled at the sight of this magazine … but there never seemed to be time.

Then, the hectic pace of the holidays slowed. It was time. I filled up the bath, adding soothing lavender bath oil to create the perfect, calming atmosphere in which to discover how I could make my life outwardly more simple and inwardly more rich (the mantra of Voluntary Simplicity proponent Duane Elgin). Perhaps I would even learn how to make a blanket out of belly button lint.

I started to read. Seemed decent enough. But then I got to the simplify your beauty routine page – and – EGADS – they’re recommending disposable make-up wands to remove mascara clumps deftly from lashes! Plastic wands that you just chuck out every time you apply mascara?! I was beginning to wonder if I’d missed the point of this magazine. Maybe it should be entitled Living Conveniently because Living Simple, to me, conjures up a different idea as to the inside contents. Or maybe I’m just a dumbass.

The make your clothes last longer bit was pretty good, though, with handy tips on washing and storing clothes in order to extend their life. Perhaps the disposable mascara wand thing was just a little inconsistency. But then I moved on to make dinner faster. I was hoping to learn how I could grow my own vegetable garden on my front step or make one chicken stretch into fifteen different dishes to freeze for future meals. Instead I learned how to buy a frozen pizza and stick a few “at hand” ingredients on it.

Next was the fit your figure article. Apparently I am an hourglass. Apparently I could pull off a pair of high-waisted pants from Neiman Marcus for $225. I WANT TO BE OUTWARDLY MORE SIMPLE GODDAMIT!

The lavender did not work. Santy Claus now knows that reading Real Simple will not lead me down the path to hippie goodness, it will only lead me down the road to a landfill filled with disposable mascara wands … and that’s just not good for my inner chi.