Child's Play

Another busy day and another short blog post. Only this time I'm aware of the pitfalls that follow too many shallow posts.

I could have skipped a day, however I've come to value the importance this daily practice has on my general well being.

So here I am with full awareness. Knowing the worthiness of daily blogging and the dangers of prolonged superficial posts.

As I settle into being a quadragenarian, consistency and balance are two attributes I've come to value above all. They are not only the hallmarks of a truly superb wine or single malt Islay, they are also the ingredients for a livable life.

Which brings me to the title of this post.

This afternoon I popped into visit my 3 year old niece who was playing in her watery sandpit. I couldn't help but marvel at her joy whenever she mastered the skillful maneuver of pouring water from one vessel into another without spilling a drop. This seemingly simple act required a consistent and balanced action, which she improved with each attempt.

What I had observed in fact was a metaphor for life, and that mastery is nothing more than child's play.

So with that I'll leave you with today's sign off...

Until tomorrow, may your journey into mastery be as fun-filled as child play... and as delicious as an Islay.

Grace xx

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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Honouring those at Stage IIII - Depression

Today's Sunday Sentence

Whenever someone sorrows, I do not say, "forget it," or "it will pass," or "it could be worse" - all of which deny the integrity of the painful experience. But I say, to the contrary, "It is worse than you may allow yourself to think. Delve into the depth. Stay with the feeling. Think of it as a precious source of knowledge and guidance. Then and only then will you be ready to face it and be transformed in the process."

-Peter Koestenbaum, Philosopher

Sunday Sentence

"What you are is what you have been, and what you will be is what you do now."

- Buddha

The fabric of life

Why do we celebrate birthdays and anniversaries every year?

Granted, there are some cultures that don't celebrate them, however I can only speak for myself and on behalf of those like me.

What is it that we are really celebrating?

As years go by, I care less for gifts and more about those I choose to share these celebratory times with.

To me, these annual celebrations are a cause for reflection. It's like stopping midway trekking to look back and see how far you've come. It's not about reversing or dwelling in the past, a few pensive moments are quite enough.

I love to create experiences where we can (justifiably) put our world on pause and fully indulge in the present for such occasions. By creating special moments, we honour the historical happenings of our lives.

We are no less important than those we dedicate a minute's silence to.
Remember that.

We're often reminded to stop and smell the roses - but in reality, how many times do we do that? Our annually recurring celebrations are wonderful opportunities to pencil in some time for ourselves and those we love. If we can't stop to do that, then we really are walking past the most fragrant rose garden without taking so much as a sniff.

Since I started purposefully creating special moments in honour of celebrations, I have noticed that with each passing year the memories become cumulative.

It's like decorating a piece of fabric with beaded embroidery. Each day is a stitch and on the 365th needle, a new sparkly bead is added. While each bead is beautiful in its own right, it's their clustering that make them really spectacular. What's lovely is that they're all joined by a common thread - and that is the fabric of our lives.

Until tomorrow, may you continue to decorate your fabric and infuse it with the sweet perfume of roses.

Grace xx

It's not about the paper

I'm about to get ready for my cousin's wedding this afternoon, and it's stirring up some feelings...

I love weddings. I love how they bring out the best in people (and marvel how they also bring out the worst, though usually that's leading up to the big day).

I love to see what the bride is wearing, the bridesmaids, their flowers, hairstyles, accessories, shoes and most of all, the ring!

I must admit, I'm not quite as enthusiastic about eyeing the guys - unless of course they're outstandingly amusing, stylish or cheeky... or break into a dance as they head down the aisle (see video below, again if you've already seen it).

Aside from aesthetics and dances, I love how weddings bring out emotions and connect people. They often become mini reunions, which is a far more preferable than catching up with long lost loved ones at funerals.

I think weddings are often scoffed at, perceived as an obligation or inconvenience - and I think that's sad. Weddings are not only a celebration of the union between bride and groom (or bride and bride, groom and groom wherever applicable), but they celebrate love in general. Parents look at their children with pride, children return the gaze with gratitude and siblings, friends and family honour each other with nostalgia - it's just beautiful.

I remember thinking marriage was just a piece of paper until, of course, I went through it myself (for real). There's something potent about declaring the way you feel about your intended spouse in front of those you love. It's like shouting your feelings, dreams and promises from a mountain top for all to see and hear. It takes courage, and that in itself is worth celebrating.

Perhaps I'm getting all warm and fuzzy because Monday (12th April) marks seven years since Patrick and I shouted from our mountain top - though technically it was a hill - a lovely one at that, in Tasmania, and we stood under an enormous tree (pictured above). Apparently there's an itch associated with that (the 7 years not the tree), but so far so good.

There are two journeys associated with this union; the one leading up to declaration day, the wedding, and the other is what happens after - the marriage. While the aim of the wedding is attaining that piece of paper, I discovered that is not what marriage is about. Over time, the piece of paper fades into something like 'I've been there and have the Tshirt to prove it' - it becomes more a nostalgic reflection rather than a defining document.

I love both the wedding and the marriage. Just like any worthwhile journey, each takes focus and intention. It can be challenging hard work, but if you each push yourselves through the tough bits and get through the other side - the views are stunning.

To my cousin Peter and his bride to be, Angela - I wish you both a wonderful wedding and a fulfilling marriage.

Until tomorrow, may you never be afraid to shout your feelings from the rooftops... or hills, or mountains.

Grace xx

The most inspiring family I know

Yesterday my friend Ryan celebrated what he described as his 34th lap of the sun.

Though I must confess, he didn't do it all by himself; he was riding on the coattails of planet Earth that did most of the hard work for him.

Ryan and his clan are currently doing a six month sabbatical in Spain. This is not the first time the family have uprooted themselves from the comforts of their own home to experience life elsewhere.

In 2004, they relocated to Nanaimo (Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada) for a period of two years. It was during this time that I realised the only thing stopping me from being anywhere in the world, was me.

If anybody could find an excuse not to travel, it would surely be a family of four with two children under the age of six. What might appear as insurmountable odds for some, turned into comic challenges for these transient vagabonds.

At the end of their sojourn, they spent three months travelling around the north American continent in 'Wicket', their beloved Dodge mini van (aka caravan of courage). With tales of freezing overnighters in the back of the car (a result of boycotting overpriced holiday parks) combined with their staple diet of porridge (which Jesse fought against with dry retching horror), loaves of bread, roast chicken and ranch dressing, one might be inclined to ask "Why do all that again?"

The answer is simple: Adventure.

Life is made up of experiences, which transform into our most potent possessions - our memories.

When it's time for us to go - we cannot take our house, our cars, our jewellery, our 'toys' and our collection of worldly objects. All we are left with, and what we leave behind, are memories. Our memories belong to us and those we share them with. We cannot be separated from them, they are ours to keep. They cannot be stolen, traded or sold. They remain with us till our final hour.

To Ryan, Jo, Zach and Jess, thank you for being a huge part of my life. Our amazing adventures are now some of my most fondest memories. From our time together in Canada (namely Stobie Pole, Fengi and ice cream the size of babies heads), to our Nubsical journey with our buddy, Mr. Tingwell - not to mention last night's hilarious long distance video call (pictured). You guys rock and continue to be an inspiration to me. Olé!

And to you, reading this blog... be sure to create great memories, for they will surely be the most valuable treasures of your life. Start a new adventure today.

Until tomorrow, "¡Ándale! ¡Ándale! ¡Arriba! ¡Arriba!"

Grace xx

ps. If you want to follow this family's adventure blog, just click here.

BTW did you know that it's 17,310km (10,670miles) between Madrid and Melbourne? Our 'space age' technology never ceases to astound me;
N-V-T-S nuts!

Does every cloud have a silver lining? In memory of James Williamson

I'd planned to write a light-hearted upbeat piece after yesterday's pensive post.

I was looking at my current state of affairs, trying to find the funny side of having a parking ticket, overdue bill notice and a sink full of dishes.

No sooner did I come up with the title 'Dark side of the spoon' (which I thought was a stroke of genius) when I noticed Patrick staring at his phone, his face depleted of joy.

"James Williamson died at the Cape Epic" he said in a stunned, monotone.

"James? The same James we met at the Greek restaurant?"

"Yes, same James"

"WHAT????????"

Both in complete shock, our hearts sank. We were, and are, in disbelief.

Patrick and I met the wonderful, friendly, down-to-earth, sweet James one week before he was to fly to South Africa to compete in the Cape Epic. We were moved by James' gentle and joyful nature, vowing to catch up with him when he returned (you know when you meet someone special and say "I'd like to be friends with that person" and then imagine how you would form such a friendship? Well, that was our experience with James).

James (it's so hard to say) was 26 years of age and editor of Enduro magazine. He'd been a World Champion mountain biker, which I only found out today after Googling the cause (which is still unknown - he was unable to be roused by his team mate in the morning). James was so unassuming I had no idea he was a champion, and yet I'm not surprised that he was.

James was so, so, so lovely... and so, so, so young.

What I want to know is, does every cloud have a silver lining?

As much as I've searched, I just can't seem to find it today.

James was excited about his trip to South Africa, it was something he'd looked forward to for a long time. While we're expected to 'look at the bright side' of the situation and be thankful that he was happy and got to live out his dream, I can't help feel that this is all too premature. Someone so lovely is surely needed on Earth a little bit longer (if not a lot longer).

All I feel is sadness. Sadness and loss. Remarkable considering I'd only spent a few hours sitting across the table from him; such was the impression he'd left on me (I feel indulgent expressing my upset and cannot fathom what his girlfriend, family and friends are feeling right now).

Do we always have to see the bright side of everything? Can't we just be sad because some things are just plain sad. I totally appreciate how we don't want to get bogged by sorrow. I know we're encouraged to move on. I can see how being 'stuck' can play havoc with our lives. But surely it's okay to be sad when something like this happens, isn't it?

Sometimes I feel that constant optimism can be tiring and, to be honest, a little fake if we can't honour the times when things upset us.

While many new age dialogues are worthy of consideration, I question the subject of death. We're told that sadness comes from our attitude and the stories we tell ourselves. That by changing our meaning of death, we'd somehow change our emotional response to it. We're told there are cultures where death is celebrated - where are they? I've never seen them and wonder if it's all a myth.

What I have seen, are dogs lamenting over the loss of a loved one. I have heard their weeping wails, I have seen their long faces and I have felt their distress. I ask my self - is that because they have a negative attitude? Are they just responding to the stories they tell themselves? Do they need to change their meaning of death? My answer is - I think not.

I've concluded that it's okay to be upset by death. Dare I say, it's normal.

Sometimes, I think it's okay to not feel you have to be strong. I think it's okay to cry. I think it's okay to be sad. I think it's okay not to have explanations or answers. I think it's okay if things don't make sense. The secret is, not to get 'stuck' in the weakness, the tears, the sorrow, the unexplained un-knowingness and the senselessness.

There is a time for grief, a time for mourning, and a time for moving on.

To all the family, friends and colleagues of James Williamson, and to Niki, I feel for your loss. I hope your path to healing and resolve is swift. To James, may your spirit ride on forever.

Until tomorrow, a place in time where we assume we'll be...

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.

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