Encore what?

It appears that yesterday's post struck a chord with some of you, and for that I am delighted.

I received a number of encouraging responses, which did wonders for my mojo.

Then, unexpectedly, my confidence took a dive after having a head on collision with the following words, "I enjoy all of your posts ... however this is by far the best one yet."

One would think such a comment would set my self esteem soaring, and it did for a while. However the high was short lived. Just as one's body comes crashing down after the sugary rush of a chocolate bar, so too did my confidence after the sugary sweet words of that compliment.

What followed was an evening devoted to creating a follow up post that equalled or bettered the one before. This led to disturbing obsessive behaviours that had me frantically searching for ideas, inspiration, something (anything) that would make an apt encore. I looked everywhere except under my bed (which is full of shoes, so that might have been a good move).

After six hours of such nonsense, I had nothing. It is past midnight and I STILL don't know what to write. Then I remembered the Aero chocolate bar advertisement ,"It's the bubbles of nothing that make it really something." So perhaps that's it. This post is about nothing.

So why did I come up with nothing today, when I really had something yesterday? Why did those words "best one yet" turn me into a fruit loop? Do musicians with No.1 hits go through the same madness?

Talking about No.1 hits, did you know that I wrote a song over two years ago and was told by a music professional that it had all the hallmarks of a No.1 hit? Did you also know that I haven't taken any steps into producing it? That's right - I've done nothing. Perhaps there is a pattern here - hmmmm...

Until tomorrow, I'd be grateful to you if you had any insights for me.

Grace xx

PS. It's just gone 1am here and Skippy the Bush Kangaroo is just starting. I can't believe it's still aired on TV - how fantastically retro is that? Oooooh the sexy helicopter pilot just crossed the screen, I once had a crush on him. Yay for Skippy!

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My Dad, my hero

Yesterday we celebrated Father's Day.

I realise how lucky I am that my relationship with my father has prospered over the years, though it was not always that way.

My father and I both share a strong will, which at times had us locking horns - especially during my adolescence.

Distance made our hearts grow fonder when, at the age of 21, I moved to London. During the second year of my stay, Dad came to visit me (pictured above) and we had a great time being tourists together. I found it wonderful to connect with him in a way that was foreign to me and made me feel 'grown up'.

At the end of my two-year sojourn, I left London to live in the South Australian country town of Gawler (between Adelaide and the Barossa Valley) for a further six years before returning to Melbourne aged 29. Being on the cusp of the big 3-0, I thought I was well and truly grown up (haha, how wrong I was). So you could imagine how utterly perplexed I was to find myself behaving like I was 15 again.

WHAT THE?

I distinctly remember looking into the mirror and asking myself "What are you doing? Why are you being like this?". Somehow I had regressed. What happened between London and returning home?

I figured that being in new surroundings was like a clean slate. There's no history, no triggers and you can create something new - a bit like building a new home. Find a patch of land and start from scratch.

However I had come home to a place that was steeped in history, old patters, triggers and reactions. My teenage behaviour was as shocking to me as walking into a house with original mission brown cupboards and lime green Formica bench tops - it was SO OUTDATED. I needed to renovate and refurbish my relationship with father.

From that moment I got to work. I started peeling off the wallpaper - the facade of what I saw my father to be, and revealed the human being beneath. I saw a little boy who grew up to be a man. I sensed someone who had dreams and disappointments, elation and sadness, courage and fear, loneliness and joy, mistakes and triumphs. Someone not at all too different to me.

We expect so much from our parents and I don't think many of us stop and realise they are just human beings. We are particularly unforgiving of their shortcomings, especially in relation to us, our family and upbringing. We expect them to be faultless, and yet we begrudge anyone else having such unrealistic expectations of us.

So today, post Father's Day, I'd like to make a special tribute to my dad.

Dad, thank you for not being so hard on me as I have been on you. Thank you for forgiving me, loving me and accepting me, despite my many erroneous ways. Thank you for giving me a second, third, fourth and fifth chance (and any more I may have missed). Thank you for enabling our relationship to grow. I am so proud of you, for all your inventions, your creative solutions and all that you have achieved. You are a genius, you are my hero, and I love you.

Until tomorrow, remember that your parents are human beings and we didn't come with an instruction manual.

Grace xx

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Sunday Sentence

"Fatherhood is pretending the present you love most is soap-on-a-rope."

- Bill Cosby

Today is Father's Day in Australia. Here's wishing all Dads a great day with lots of soaps-on-ropes.

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Saturday Quiz No.8

And now the moment you've all been waiting for - it's time for Saturday Quiz No. 8 [clap, cheer, roar].

After testing today's quiz on Patrick, he suggested that I give a few clues - so if it's too easy, please send all complaints to him.

The rules remain the same... please answer in the comments section below (if you're reading this on email, then you'll have to visit the blog by clicking on the heading).

And now for last week's quiz results...

leelee needed a few clues, which were provided by Liza and Garrie - the clue being Eliza Doolittle who was the character in My Fair Lady.

Then we had three correct guesses from the lovely Kirajmartin, whom I virtually met via an organisation for women with POF (if you need to refresh your memory what that means, then click here), Kmbspeedy, who is this week's mystery guesser (would love to know more about you) and fellow bloggess Diana Kennedy, who does amazingly creative and inspiring scrap booking.

All three guessed "The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain," which is what Eliza Doolittle practised repeatedly in the aforementioned film.

Congratulations to all three of you!

You've each won this week's über deluxe prize, which is a 100% virtual trip on a private yacht through the Greek islands. The trip includes Champagne sunsets after your daily relaxation massages, while your personal on-board chef prepares fresh gourmet meals at your request. This trip can be taken anytime you close your eyes, so waste not a moment longer and enjoy!

Until Monday, have a blissful Sunday.

Grace xx

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Bending over backwards & the art of flexibility

If there's one thing that I've learned this last decade is that it pays to be flexible.

Bending over backwards can be rewarding - it can win you a cocktail in a Fijian limbo competition (pictured right, and yes that is me circa 1998), not to mention give you opportunities in life that you could never have imagined.

Having flexibility means you can alter your course to navigate through life's opportunities, detours and roadblocks - however there's an art to it.

Excessive flexibility could translate into not having enough structure. It could pose as many problems as being too rigid. Questioning the degree of my flexibility, is where I'm at right now.

Have I been too flexible? Is my voyage through life's milestones taking much longer than it should? I will be turning 40 in exactly two months time and I am nowhere near where I thought I'd be at this age. No children, no career that I'm passionate about (though lots of little jobs that I am) and no place that feels like home.

Yet on the flip side, I have had so many amazing life experiences that I would not trade for the world. I have little possessions of value, yet my memory bank is rich with priceless treasures and so too are my photo albums. I am also surrounded by those I love and who love me - hence my heart is equally abundant.

I remember having an epiphany when I saw my grandfather in his aged care facility just a few months before he passed. He had nothing left. No possessions other than his clothes and a few photos, no occupation that he was passionate about and no place that felt like home. He did however, have his family, memories and stories. In the end, experiences and the people in his life accounted for more than things.

While I have no intention of departing this earth anytime soon, I am at a crossroads in terms of where I want to go and what I want to do.

On one hand I am completely intoxicated over the thought of being in Europe every summer to host cycling tours and visiting Asia on the way home. Yet on the other, I am wondering that if I don't have any children (my next option would be to pursue adoption), what will become of my maternal love and who will I tell my stories to? Perhaps you reading this blog will do.

Until tomorrow, be sure to find the balance between over-flexibility and rigidity... then tell me about it.

Grace xx

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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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The 4th Grace

Today is my favourite day of the year.

The 1st of September marks the first day of spring here in Australia (though someone forgot to tell the weather gods about that today).

There's something about spring that is promising, despite the weather. The days will become longer, birds will sing and blossoms will spring. Out of all the seasons, spring is the most optimistic and for that I love it.

The first day of spring also marks the birthday of one of my gorgeous and dear friends. I have just finished cooking her a wholesome meal and am taking five (or twenty) to write this piece. So forgive me if it's brief.

As I looked about the place for an image that would grace this day's post, I noticed a painting hanging on the wall. As it turns out the title of the work is 'The Three Graces' which naturally begs the question, who's the fourth? (doesn't it?)

Not having to look further past my reflection in the mirror, the fourth Grace is indeed me. So I whipped off my shirt and after a few attempts at acting naturally nude, we agreed this photo was the more candid (of course it is). Interestingly, the photo was number 333 (half the devil's number - should I be scared?)

Okay, I'm rambling and trying to tie all of this together into a masterpiece - so here goes...

If each of the Graces depicted on the painting represents a season, then the fourth Grace (aka me) would have to be spring. Since starting Project Grace 2010, I have blossomed. I am wearing more colour than ever before (that is, when I'm actually wearing clothes - though the beads do give a good insight into shades of coral that can be found on my threads).

I feel like I'm coming out of a long dark winter. The days ahead are promising and there is a sense of optimism in the air... just like spring.

Until tomorrow, may there be a spring in your step no matter the weather.

Grace xx

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