The power of attitude and the ignorance of youth

I stumbled across a bunch of old photos when I was organising my house a few months ago. Out of all the hundreds (if not thousands) of photos spanning four decades, the ones that struck me the most were those taken in London - where I lived from 1992 to 1994. Such attitude.

I was 21 years young when I booked a one-way flight to the capital of our mother country, much to the distress of my parents. It was an impulsive decision made in attempt to escape my circumstances at the time (which I don't want to get into at this stage).

I had gone to a travel agent one morning to make an enquiry, and had the ticket booked and paid for by that afternoon.

When I returned home to inform my parents of my impending departure, their concerns for me were obvious. "What are you going to do when you get there? Where are you going to live? How will you find a job?" "Isn't this a little too sudden?" "Are you prepared?" were some of the many questions fired at me.

My answers were plain and simple. "I'll get there and make it up as I go. I'll find a place to live. I'll get myself a job. I'll work it out."

Within two weeks of that conversation, I was off.

I arrived in London after having spent a fortnight in Los Angeles with my gorgeous friend Gabriella, who was studying acting in Hollywood. We had an amazing time in sunny California, which was a stark contrast to what I faced in the UK - a place and population that was cold, miserable and overly grey.

I HATED being there and invested in many tearful ISD telephone conversations with Gabri, postulating ways I could return to LA without a green card or money for an airfare. I went so far as to drink a gazillion Diet Cokes per day in order to win a trip to La-La land, but to no avail. Gabri assured me that I would fall in love with London as she had done years before.

She was right. I did fall in love.

It all began on a sunny spring day when I found a room advertised in the 'Loot' for £50 a week (all inclusive - bargain!). I turned into Waller Road in London's South East, hopeful that this might be the place I'd be calling home. I was greeted by the funkiest music my Top 40 ears had ever heard and the cheerful face of DJ-in-the-making Alan, one of the six students that occupied the quintessential London terraced house.

After a brief tour, I became the seventh roommate and my world would completely transform. It was a turning point in my life, one that has carved me into the interesting albeit quirky person I am today. If it weren't for my 'I'll be alright' attitude that partnered my youthful ignorance, I'd have never had the courage to purchase that one-way ticket in the first instance.

Yes it was all a little too sudden, and no I wasn't all that well prepared... but I did find a place to live, I got myself a job and found lots to do. I made it up as I went along and I worked things out.

Nineteen years later I find myself reflecting on the person I was back then. I'd like to borrow some of that youthful ignorance and attitude to get me through a sticking point right now. Is that appropriate or is it like a mother borrowing her young daughter's jeans? I guess it depends on the jeans. Hmm.... perhaps that's another blog post.

Until tomorrow, let the power of attitude and ignorance work for you now as it did back you know when.

Grace xx

PS. I still love London and the amazing people I met there. It'll always remain as a sacred place in my heart for all the personal growth that occurred there. If I were a butterfly, London was my chrysalis.

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Rising water

One of my many quirky behaviours is looking at Melbourne's water storage supplies after each downpour.

Patrick thinks it's hilarious and can't quite understand my obsession.

Well, it all started just over a year ago. I recall watching a news report in June last year announcing Melbourne's water storage levels were in crisis. The levels had plummeted to an all time low of 25.9% and I distinctly remember feeling a sense of panic.

"Oh my goodness, what would we do if we ran out of water?"

Imagining the real life implications of such a catastrophe must have set off some primitive warning system and from that moment on, I have been somewhat obsessed with seeing the water storage levels rise.

Interestingly, my fascination in this subject has led to a healthy appreciation for rain. In the past, rain had the capacity to reduce me to a miserable psychopath.

This might have something to do with an incident that happened when I was six or seven years old. A family friend forgot to pick me up from an abnormally short school day and I was left standing in the rain for hours. By the time the teachers were finished their afternoon meeting and noticed me sobbing at the front gates, I was wet through to my undies. I've detested the rain ever since. Not surprising really.

I have long tried to appreciate the rain by telling myself stories like, "It makes the grass grow and the flowers happy" or "I love the sound it makes on the tin roof" (might have helped if I had a tin roof) - I even told myself that a rainbow (aka upside down smile) couldn't come out without the rain. But truly, nothing helped... until now.

Okay truth be told, I still don't like the rain, but I am excited by it. A paradox perhaps, but I am finding that the more it rains, the more excited I become. Now before you send the dudes in white coats to come and collect me, please let me explain.

What I begin to feel after prolonged and or heavy raining periods is a sense of anticipation. I simply cannot wait to go online and see the water storage numbers rise (it's a bit like watching the dollars rise for a charity fundraiser). Too much excitement.

Well today, I had the biggest thrill I have had in a long time. We have got over 40% water storage - the most since October 2007. Just thrilling. Okay, perhaps you'd better call those dudes in white coats.

Until tomorrow, do whatever you have to do to turn something you detest into something exciting.

Grace xx

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Brake Down

So here we are in a Lambourghini tractor workshop located in rural Victoria (I didn't even know Lambourghini made tractors), with our car jacked up.

We (as in Patrick and the tractor mechanic) are trying to find out what is causing an unhealthy grating noise when we apply our newly installed brakes.

I am sitting on my suitcase listening to the rain fall as I type on my laptop. Literally on my lap top.

In short, "Houston we have a problem."

Since embarking on this road trip two days ago, we seem to be encountering quite a few such problems. It's almost like the universe is deliberately halting our attempts to reach Adelaide this weekend.

Our first stall occurred in Apollo Bay when Patrick ran into bike trouble. He was putting together our friend's new Malvern Star MTB when he was challenged by the new 2011 model gear shifters. Long story short, a 10 minute job turned into a half-day affair.

We hit the road about five hours behind schedule only to be hindered a few hours down the road. We saw the aftermath of a head-on collision between an Italian stallion and a 4WD (SUV) full of Spaniards. Luckily there were no deaths or (obvious) serious injuries, however there was serious memory lapse in one of the victims who asked for his watch every two minutes. We did what all good samaritans do. Stopped, called emergency aid, warned oncoming traffic with flashing hazard lights and kept everybody calm until help arrived.

After standing in the wind and rain for over two hours, we did a handover to a policeman who took over the show and we were free to go.

We were both shaken up and decided to call it a night at Hotel Warrnambool - a very cool pub with sleeping quarters that have been funk-fully decorated. Our room was above the live band and despite being tired, we could not sleep with our bed vibrating to the jazz music. So we logged onto our computers to discover that our gorgeous friend Jo had a baby boy 10-weeks before he was due (we were actually going to Adelaide to surprise her for the baby shower on Sunday - but looks like she trumped us in the surprise stakes).

The band stopped after midnight and we finally went to sleep in what must have been the most comfortable bed in the world. Reluctantly, I arose this morning to start a new day, which has ultimately led to me tapping away to A Flock of Seagulls singing "I ran, I ran so far away" followed by John Farnham's "Give me a reason" - what do you think the universe is trying to tell us?

Until tomorrow, learn to slow down, pause and see the lighthearted moments in the moment - despite having reasons to run away.

Grace xx

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Life's a Beach

The difference between life being a b*tch or a beach is often determined by one's flexibility, attitude... and two letters.

Take my recent India debacle. What started out as an act of spontaneity, born out of the spirit of generosity, quickly turned into poop pie.

My first thought was that I was on the wrong path and that the universe was conspiring against me. Truth is, I was impatient. Instead of waiting till I had firmly secured the visa in my hands, I took a risk - albeit a calculated one.

When it blew up in my face (the plan, not the visa), I got into such a spin that I really believed life had just turned into a b*tch.

Two days later, I find myself in sultry Penang spending quality time with a couple I have known and loved since I was fifteen years young. They are the parents of Project Grace 2010's No.1 commenter and winner of the Eiffel Tower key ring - Mr. Garrie aka Top Gun Tenor.

While I may not be in India doing the groundwork for the humanitarian project I aim to launch in 2011 (still can't say more than that), I am recharging my batteries and feeding my soul (not to mention my taste buds - the food here is AMAZING) on an island that is famous for its beaches.

So in the end, being flexible of mind and positive in attitude helped turn my annoyingly frustrating and somewhat stressful situation around. Oh, and the two letters that determine the difference between life being a b*tch or beach, are what you repeat to yourself over and over, and OVER again... O, K.

Until tomorrow, remember that all is OK even when you think it's not.

Grace xx

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Repackaging

Yesterday I woke up with a brainwave...

"I'm going to change the way I view my time at the gym," I announced to my husband.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't like referring to gym as Jim and that I'm off to have an affair. It was funny in the beginning, but it doesn't work for me anymore. Plus, I like it when you come along with me."

"Then we'll have a ménage à trois," he said triumphantly - lightly chuckling at his jest.

"No. That's not it. You see, I really like the way I feel after the gym. I ALWAYS leave feeling better than when I arrived. It's just getting there that's the problem," I continued...

"It's like an obligation, something I have to do - and that's not inspiring to me. I need to repackage what the gym means to me so I am inspired to go. When you're inspired, you don't need to motivate yourself because you're itching to do it. Self motivation is draining. Being inspired is the opposite - it's energising. Instead of having to coax yourself to start, you're having to force yourself to stop... or at least pace yourself. That's how I want to feel about the gym. "

"Geez it must be hard being you," he interjected.

"It IS hard being me," I sighed. (That's before I had my 1% breakthrough)

I took the time to reflect on my attitude towards being active as a child. I was always outside playing. From the moment I returned from school it was off with my uniform, complete any obligations (or negotiate deals) for my 'get out of jail free' card, and I was out the door quicker than you could say "Have you finished your homework?" We played till sunset and begrudged the familiar call of "Kids, dinner's ready!"

It didn't stop there. Every wedding, family BBQ or staff Christmas party I was running around with cousins or newly made friends till I collapsed (usually under the table at the feet of my mother). I remained sedated till being carried upstairs and laid to bed (occasionally I would awake when our car reversed into the garage, but I adopted a charade so I could get a free lift to my room - very naughty).

Kiss chasey, tiggy (aka tag), backyard cricket, football, roller skating, riding bikes, British bulldogs, elastics, down-ball, hopscotch, skipping rope and 'mothers and fathers' (the latter probably the least active, but the most creative). I couldn't sit still for a second.

So, with this in mind... plus knowing how good I feel after I've been to the gym, I have now repackaged it as 'Play Time'. That's what the gym is for me. It is PLAYTIME - Woohoo! And the best thing about it is that I don't have to finish my homework before I go. Now that I am an adult (well, that's what my age indicates), I can choose to have my playtime before I start my obligations - isn't that fabulous?

So far, so good.

This morning I leapt out of bed and asked Patrick (my husband), "Do you want to come out to play?" to which he declined. Then I ran off (literally) and played anyway. Right now, I am feeling as happy as I did when I was that little girl who ran and ran and ran till she faked being asleep on her Dad's shoulder.

Until tomorrow, may you repackage whatever it is in your life that needs a new attitude.

Grace xx

Life's Gift

Do you ever have moments when you feel like you're the luckiest person in the world?

You're appreciation for life paints a smile that's angelical. You sing praises all round in a voice evangelical. You cannot hide, the feelings inside and keep searching for words that end in an 'elical'.

That's how I'm feeling today.

After a wonderful evening last night with two girlfriends that I've known and loved since high school (hi Jaala and Sam!), followed by a fabulous day having lunch with my family... I am feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

Sometimes we need to stop worrying about things we have to do in the future, or lamenting over things we have done (or haven't done) in the past... and just be present in the now.

Having a great time with friends and family helps keep us in the present moment. For we all know that the present is indeed, life's gift.

Until tomorrow, may your life be full of 'elical' moments.

Grace xx

ps. The photo was taken 18 years ago when I lived in London.

pps. When I'm happy I break into song, rhyme or limericks... and yes, I did just make that up based on the photo (I read your mind).

An APPLE a day keeps the doctor away.

Today I am going to go on an outing with my gran in-law... so I'm keeping it brief.

We are heading towards the coast to get a much needed soul-lift.

Something about the sea that makes us both feel good - it'll be our 'apple' for today.

That got me thinking about all those wise old sayings our elders say, like 'An apple a day keeps the doctor away' ... and here's what I came up with - Grace style.

Appreciation and gratitude is the best possible attitude. Always look for at least one thing to be grateful for each day - a healthy attitude equals a healthy life.

Practice patience. Whether you're in a queue or running late, nothing's worth being irate. Patience really is a virtue - aim for it daily.

Pleasure's found in purpose. Find purpose in everything you do and pleasure's bound to follow too - promise!

Let it be. Allowing something to just be, is certainly to set you free. The Beatles sang these "words of wisdom" - make it your mantra.

Eat well. Nourishing your body, nourishes your soul - so grab yourself a salad bowl. With this in mind, redefine what a 'treat' is - for me it's Meg's big salad in Ubud, Bali.

Until tomorrow, may you continue to be the apple of my eye!

Grace xx