Today was a day for me to practice the anti-anxiety exercises that I am reading in this book called Guérir le stress, l'anxiete et la depression sans medicaments ni psychanalyse (Curing stress, anxiety and depression without medication or psychoanalysis, in case you couldn't decipher that one.) With a title that makes such lofty promises, it's no wonder that the book was a bestseller in France last year and seduced me quickly. In it, psychiatrist David Servan-Schreiber teaches a method he calls cardiac coherence, which involves learning how to regulate your heartbeat patterns to reduce the physical impact of stress and other emotional traumas. Basically, it is a lot of breathing deeply and thinking happy thoughts, explained through highly technical language. Today I decided to stop reading and put this method into action.

Test 1: The pool

Water forced up my nose by overly splashy swimmers, kickboards thrown at my head by maniacal children, zigzagging old men who often backstroke right into me, housewives who hang out in the middle of my lane having conversations more suited to cafés, swerving around couples making out against the wall, men in Speedos that keep "accidentally" brushing against me. This is what I am up against at the municipal pool on a crowded day. Normally I let out at least a few grumbles of disgust, shoot a few evil looks, and occasionally happen to kick a little too hard, splashing (or, in extreme situations, kicking) oafish obstacles. Today I was a better citizen, thanks to cardiac coherence! Of course without all of that nervous energy I tired out a little earlier than normal, but I was impressed with my patience!

Test 2: The metro

Public transit—as much as I love freedom from the chains of car ownership—has always been a major cause of stress for me. I am a little claustrophobic and really don't like touching strangers (or worse, having them touch me.) Today, I became determined to shrug off the eat or be eaten attitude that I picked up in NYC (which involved intricate plans to steal a seat from slower moving commuters and violently fighting against the male wide-leg syndrome.) Not anymore. I want to be nice again. This world doesn't need any more assholes. And even if it keeps me from "getting ahead," in this world, I would rather get one smile from someone than a dozen looks of disgust. I don't know if I actually was able to control the rhythm of my heart or not, but I did get a smile and a "Merci!" from a girl who I made room for in an overcrowded car, so whatever I was doing seemed to work. I so desperately want to shed my uptight disposition for a cool one! Someday…somehow…

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Other than that little experiment, my camarades de classe and I found a great tea house (or Salon de Thé Littéraire if you want to be fancy) next to one of the buildings where we have class. It is called the Le Fourmi Ailée (8, rue du Fouarre, Paris 5e). We have already decided to become regulars there. But now I must run. We are going to the cinema to see Blueberry, which opened here yesterday. I will let you know what I think tomorrow! Stay tuned…