Rock n Roll and the Emergency Oxygen Mantra

There are times in life when I just want to bust loose and let my hair down.

In my former life, that would have meant a big night on the fun juice and murder on the dance floor. However as a borderline teetotaller, letting my hair down means getting out my air guitar and thrashing it out with full constipated facial expressions.

If I were to really break loose, I'd climax by trashing an imaginary hotel room and skidding across a polished floor on my knees (I have indeed mimed outrageous rock concerts with minors, wigs, sans intoxication and with tears of laughter - oh yeah, rock n roll baby).

This desire to burst out into imaginary mayhem usually happens after a spell of feeling constrained. You know - like being a 'good girl' (or boy) by saying the right things, being sensible, highlighting what you 'should' do and defining what you need to do - all the things that mess with your head, kill your spirit and essentially have you feeling dull.

I know, I know, I can almost hear you say "but you've just been to France, Germany, Switzerland, Singapore, Malaysia and done a road trip along the Great Ocean Road, PLUS you've got India (and Bali - I haven't told you about that yet) on the horizon - how does dull enter your vocabulary?"

Truth is, dullness creeps in if I let it.

Having been brought up in a culture where pleasing others is a sure way of avoiding guilt, I find that over time I revert back to this way of being. After all, it is my default setting (you might recall I wrote a post about this called 'Why is it so hard to put yourself first?').

My default setting, when activated, has ways of dulling me. It slowly kills off my mojo and dampens my spirit. It turns me into something I don't want to be. I have discovered that overriding my default setting is like someone learning to write with the opposite hand. Each time they go to pick up a pen, they habitually reach for it with their default hand - therefore they must consciously choose the new hand each time.

For those of us instinctively wanting to put others in front of ourselves, we have to remember the in-flight emergency protocol (which is rapidly becoming my mantra). It is essential that we fit the oxygen mask onto ourselves before helping others. Yes, I know I've said this before and I'm saying it again for all that are hardwired to guilt. We have to repeat this over and over and OVER again so we 'get' it.

I know for one thing, I am a much better person all round when I am not dying inside - and I'm sure that those who surround me are also grateful. If not for my joyfulness, enthusiasm and energy, it'd be because they no longer have to put up with my bad imaginary rock concerts.

Until tomorrow, reduce your need to bust loose with the emergency oxygen mantra.

Grace xx

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Mission Defrostible

A few years ago, we inherited a 1970-something bar fridge complete with lovely faux woodgrain exterior.

Bordering between funky and f'ugly, we were delighted to welcome this vintage addition into our bohemian abode.

Over the last few years, our inheritance grew a rather spectacular iceberg.

What started out as a 'frosty bit' soon took over the entire top left corner until we could no longer close the door.

The funny thing about all of this, is that it all seemed to have happened overnight. One day we could close the door and the next day we couldn't.

We set to work on defrosting our little brown box by leaving the door open for 24-hours. However our chilly weather, combined with our crappy heating, meant there was very little defrosting to be had.

So this morning, it was time to bring out the big guns. My Turbo 1500 hairdryer. Yeah baby.

As I watched the monster iceberg melt away I couldn't help thinking that what I was witnessing was a metaphor for what many of us do to ourselves as we navigate our way through life. Sadly, some of us develop so many layers over time that we just get lost (just as I did prior to Project Grace 2010 - and my ice-cube tray prior to the Turbo 1500).

Whether we wrap our bodies in fat or our hearts in ice, the layering process is slow and barely noticeable. Bit by bit, one day at a time, we have the capacity to create a monolithic barrier that impedes our ability to do up the top button of our trousers or shed a tear when we hurt someone we love. Ultimately, it costs us our happiness, freedom of self expression and our sense of self.

If we're lucky, we'll recognise this as a 'malfunction'. At that point, we can get to work on melting away our barricades. It doesn't matter whether we opt for the patient 'slowly-but-surely' method or take the express 'it-has-to-happen-NOW' approach, so long as we alter the conditions and do what we need to do to restore ourselves - just like your's truly... and my little brown fridge.

Until tomorrow, be sure to melt away whatever's obstructing your life.

Grace xx

PS. Just for the record, I've taken the patient 'slowly-but-surely' approach for longer lasting results [ting] (That was supposed to be a sound effect. Now imagine that with a white sparkle reflecting off my smile and you've got me summed me up).

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Passing the Torch

Some years ago - a decade actually - I was in charge of promoting the Sydney 2000 Olympic Torch Relay in the South Australian country town of Gawler.

It all came about after volunteering at the Gawler Visitor Centre under Brian Sambell, who is now the town's Mayor (oh yeah, I know people in high places - don't you worry about that).

The aim was to raise community awareness and get people involved in nominating local heros to be community torchbearers. It was a great project and I enthusiastically embraced it.

In order to start the ball rolling, I suggested to my then boyfriend (now husband) Patrick to nominate his grandmother Lil Ruffle for the first story. Lil (aka Gran) is such an inspiration and I intend to dedicate an entire post to her. In the meantime, let's just say that she is 86 years young and still cycles on the road for over 100km (62miles) per week.

Patrick was happy to be my 'guinea pig' and his nomination for Gran was my first media story, complete with giant publicity photo, to be published in The Bunyip newspaper. It was a personal victory for me, but what followed was more than I could have ever anticipated.

Gran was selected to be a community torchbearer at the age of 76. Her goal was to run the entire distance (500m / a third of a mile) while holding the 1kg (2.2pound) torch high above her head. After 6 months of focused training in all conditions, she did it with ease - and was consequently televised on every news channel.

This morning I was passing the torch en route to the kitchen when it caught my eye. Though it has been standing there tall and proud ever since, I'd stopped noticing it and its significance. This time, however, it stopped me in my tracks and I began to reflect.

To be honest, I'm always on the lookout for blog fodder and this torch shone like a beacon today... most probably because IT IS a beacon.

I thought about how the torch came to be in our lives, its symbolism and what it has manifested. For a start, it was a dream come true and a just reward for an unsung local hero. Gran's friends flew over from Canada to watch her carry it, the family of four generations came together to celebrate it and Gran, eventually, got to own it.

The torch represents how the spark of an idea carried through can change the course of one's life and the life of those connected to them. It is also a potent reminder of how each person carries a flame that when touched, can ignite the flame of another - and to me, that flame is inspiration.

Just like passing the torch in Gran's kitchen, we erroneously walk past those that harbour inspirational flames that could potentially light up our lives. These people are our spouses, children, parents, grandparents, neighbours, family, friends and colleagues.

Until tomorrow, take time to reignite your flame with the flame of those around you.

Grace xx

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Well, well... well (the sequel)

I've had time to ponder since yesterday's post and it seems you have too.

Here are the responses I've received thus far:

1. Remind ourselves how blessed we really are... far better to focus on the positive and count your blessings if you want to fill your well
   
   
2. Ride your bike, it fixes all the world problems one pedal stroke at a time
   
   
3. What if you dont have time to ride your bike... and you know how blessed you are but you still can't shake it off?
   
   
4. Dig a hole... go outside, grab a shovel, dig a hole and plant something... spending time in the sunshine, nurturing a small patch of earth and making a investment in your future is an exercise in hope

Firstly, THANK YOU!

Now for my responses:

1. Reminding ourselves how blessed we really are is being grateful for having a well in the first instance. Counting our blessings is also useful. We could do this literally by having a container that is our 'well' (i.e. jar or empty ice cream container) and then write our blessings on scraps of paper (recycle) and fill the well one blessing at a time - I like it!
   
   
2. If one has a bike, is capable of riding and loves it, then brilliant. If not, then one must find an activity that is engaging and fulfilling. For me, it's being playful and creative for fun (as opposed to being creative for work). This morning I chose to colour in the well. I was completely absorbed, in the moment and most importantly I was using a part of my brain that doesn't get as much exercise as the other side that does all the thinking and worrying.
   
   
3. I also have moments when suggestions 1 and 2 don't work for me. This happens when I am in serious 'drought'. What I is I tell myself that every drop is progress. You know how a dripping tap can fill a sink? Same thing. One drop at a time, or as No. 2 suggested, "one pedal stroke at a time". I also look at what's emptying my well faster than I can fill it and takes steps in addressing it.
   
   
4. Spending time in the sun (without falling asleep and burning to a crisp, but that's another story) is brilliant for filling the well with vitamin D and increasing serotonin production. Nurturing something to grow in a patch of dirt sounds lovely, though I don't have a patch of dirt where I'm living right now, but am now considering adopting a plant next door.

Once again, thank you for your contributions.

Until tomorrow, keep filling the well and mend the leaks.

Grace xx

Lighthouse

Remember my little boat metaphor? Well, there are times when I'm sailing on life's ocean when I don't know where I'm going.

I bob up and down aimlessly wondering how did I get here and where am I going to. The most bizarre thing is that I cannot pinpoint when and where I went off course.

It's times like these I need a lighthouse.

Lighthouses are a solid pillar of strength, firmly grounded and emit homing beacons for those that seek it (much like the light at the end of my tunnel).

Friends are like lighthouses. They remind you where you've sailed from and facilitate in navigating where you're heading to. They have the uncanny ability to shed light on subjects, enabling you to see something from a new perspective. They are the guiding light that we seek.

Tonight I bumped into such a lighthouse. Someone I have known and loved since I was an awkward, pimply-faced teenager. Seeing her filled me with instant relief and sense of comfort. I returned home with a knowing feeling that all will be well.

Until tomorrow, spare a loving thought and gratitude for all the lighthouses in your life.

Grace xx

Emotional Zits

WARNING! This is gross and may cause stomach upset. Proceed with caution.

When I was a teenager, my youthful skin was covered in blemishes (zits). Some were mature, others were ripening just beneath the surface, and then there were those I called 'blind' pimples.

The latter often took a while to be discovered. They weren't 'obvious', just a slight pinkish tinge to the skin. They may have felt swollen to touch, but were generally invisible. I probably would have never noticed them if it hadn't been for the PAIN. They were by far, the worst.

I would spend hours in front of the mirror 'dealing with' my pimples. It provided me with enormous relief once the pressure was released. The blind ones were intriguing, intensely painful and required the most patience for they weren't going anywhere till they were 'ready'.

Not wanting to cause you to puke all over your computer, let's just say that blind pimples were always met with several confrontations over a few days - the first attempts where just warm ups for a huge grand finale.

My Mum (we say mum not mom) would berate me for 'ruining my skin' but to me, the post extraction redness was worth the effort. While I might have looked worse off immediately after squeezing, I felt so much better - at least until the next batch were ripe for the picking.

Then one day, in my early 20's, they were all gone. Forever. I might get the odd zit here and there at certain times of the month but for the most part, I had clear skin. Even to this day people comment at how smooth and lovely my skin is (sounds like I'm doing an infomercial doesn't it?).

Project Grace 2010 is turning out to be a lot like bursting emotional zits. Some have been easy 'pops' - ah, relief, and it all goes away. Others have been like the dreaded blind pimple. First you discover it, you feel it growing underneath the surface. It throbs and it hurts but you can't stop fondling till it develops a head. Then you become determined to eliminate its contents, and continue with focused intention until BANG! It finally explodes, thus leaving you with an enormous sense of release (literally and metaphorically).

It can go two ways after that; 1. Vanish into nothingness, or 2. Swell into the biggest dermatological monster you have ever seen. You need to let it rest a while before launching the final attack.

Well my friends, it turns out that '99% equals FAIL' was not only a Top 10 hit in the last 30 years, but is also a classification '2.' blind pimple. As my posts indicate, I've been fiddling with it for a few days and instead of disappearing, it is swelling. I can feel the pressure of an enormous eruption brewing under the surface. I can feel that it's only a matter of time before the grand finale.

If you've read this far, here's a second warning: Next time you check out Project Grace 2010, make sure you're wearing a raincoat.

Until tomorrow, may you whittle away at your emotional zits (if you can stomach it) and you too can have clear skin.

Grace xx

My life as a boat

Today I was a tourist in my own backyard.

I spent the day with my gran in-law, who is visiting from Adelaide. We headed for the coast and our only plan was to let the day unfold before us.

The journey took us to the Bellarine Peninsula, south west of Melbourne. It's a place often bypassed by eager tourists (myself included) rushing towards the Great Ocean Road.

The day was perfect. Brilliant blue sky, water like glass and golden beaches that twinkled in the sun. It was heaven.

I brought my camera to snap a few memoirs, when I came across this boat (pictured above).

The image took my breath away. This small vessel bobbing on the water reminds me of us, our human experience... and a story I often tell myself.

We are birthed (or should I say berthed?), and our great voyage begins.

As we sail through life, we experience the full spectrum of what it is to be alive. The grey dull days and wild tumultuous storms soon make way for blissfully calm moments, where life is beautiful and time stands still.

When we find ourselves in the midst of a tempest, we have to remind ourselves that it is transient. Hold on. The clouds will part and the sun will shine. In the meantime, ride the waves and weather the storm.

This is something I came to repeat many times over when I encountered my own 'Groundhog Day'. I felt stuck in the treacherous Cape Horn, whose notoriously hazardous waters are dubbed to be a sailors' graveyard. My little boat metaphor became my mantra to keep Mr. Grim Reaper at bay.

And you know what? The skies did clear, and the waves did calm. As a result, I have become a better sailor and skilful navigator. I manage to dodge more storms today than when I was first at the helm and with each new day, I become wiser.

And another thing...

I learned that no matter how dinged up we get along the way, there's always a safe harbour we can pull into. Our holes can be plugged, the damage repaired and the weaknesses reinforced.

I've also come to the realisation that Project Grace 2010 is such a harbour. Maintenance and repair work is currently underway in preparation to celebrate 40 years sailing.

Until tomorrow... may you sail safely, avoid the storms and take time to explore your own backyard.

Grace xx

PS. I'm particularly touched by this post as I (and a number of people I love) have been directly impacted by depression. There are many worldwide initiatives to help people deal with this debilitating condition. Whilst my 'little boat on the seas' metaphor was (and is) a valuable self-coaching technique, it was not the only means that got me through. There are many safe harbours out there so please seek them, reach out and take time to heal.