Cat out of the bag

Tonight I watched Catwoman for the first time.

Sure it's been 6 years since it was released, so you'd be forgiven for thinking that I'm a bit behind the eight ball in the movie watching department.

Truth be told, I may have never seen it had it not been in a stack of DVD's loaned to us from a gorgeous friend whose birthday it happens to be tomorrow (you know who you are, happy birthday me-2).

True to the superhero genre there's a moral to the story, which you may have known but forgotten because it was so long ago since you saw, heard or read about the film. So I'll bring it upon myself to remind you.

Catwoman is revived from death by the breath of an Egyptian temple cat (I don't think it's a true story) and is given a second chance at life (my bet is that she has seven more chances if she blows it), along with a few superpowers like moving at lightening speed and climbing up walls (I'll try and stop interrupting now). She frees herself from a metaphorical cage that bound her in her former life so she's free in her new life.

In some way, Catwoman reflects us all. We have desires to free ourselves from what binds us and death prompts us to take action (usually fear of death, near-death or death of someone near us - not actual death then revival by cat's breath - the latter is somewhat unusual).

In 2004, after two close family deaths, Patrick and I resigned from our jobs and embarked on a 355-day trip around the world. No cat's breath, but death did change the course our lives.

Back to Catwoman.

The movie highlighted something we can all relate to. We have many facets, which fall into two distinct sides - the good and bad (some say there are three, the ugly - but that's ANOTHER story, ahem, movie). According to Catwoman, the key is to accept all of who we are for only then can we be free - and with freedom, comes power.

This reminded me of a post I did some time ago called The Gemini Within - do you remember? (feel free to read again and refresh your memory). Since writing that piece, I have been more accepting of myself and as a result have been feeling more free. I guess now I just have to observe when the 'power' kicks in.

Until tomorrow, remember there are life lessons all around us - even in
6 year old films. Now set yourself free and find your power! Meow. Purrrrrrrrr.

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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Sunday Sentence

"Even if you can't sing well, sing. Sing to yourself. Sing in the privacy of your home. But sing."

- Rebbe Nachman of Breslov

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Saturday Quiz No.7

I am so excited about today's quiz. It came to me last night before I went to bed and I just couldn't wait to get up this morning and create it.

So here it is... Saturday Quiz No.7

Please insert your answers in the comments section below and the winner will be announced next week. Everyone welcome to guess - go on, have a go!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Our last quiz, Saturday Quiz No.6, ran for two weeks and concluded with three concurring answers. Yes, all three of you correctly guessed "Home Sweet Home" and the winners were:

1. The clever (and glamorous) CS Joyce
2. Scrapbook extraordinaire Diana Kennedy
3. The mysterious 'kirajmartin' whom I'd love to know more about

All three of you have won a virtual escape to a mountain top spa retreat that you can visit whenever you close your eyes. It smells of cedar and alpine flowers and each room has a view of snow-capped mountains with a glacial lake in the foreground. Just stunning. You can curl up with a book or get horizontal on the imaginary comfort top king sized bed - deluxe!

Until Monday, have a soulful Sunday.

Grace xx

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Dog rescues dog on highway - or does he?

I came across an extraordinary video today where a superhero of the canine species, risked his life to save a fellow pooch... or so that's what I thought.

When I went to locate the video on YouTube, I came across two conflicting stories.

One documented that the rescued pooch was in fact already dead, whereas another stated that he survived the ordeal.

More than anything, I want to believe the happy ending. However after watching the video several thousand times, I think the lifelessness of the body says it all.

Then it made me wonder - does the ending make any difference to the heroic act of the super pooch? Are we so addicted to happy endings (courtesy of Hollywood blockbuster movies) that we will misconstrue tales, or blatantly lie, in order to make a story worth telling? Is this what we do when we recount stories to our children? And if so, is that okay?

So many questions.

Have a look at the two versions of the story below and let me know what you think on the comments section below. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Video #1 - The first one I saw

Video #2 - The second one I came across on YouTube

Until tomorrow, share your thoughts freely and without the need to lie.

Grace xx

ps. I have no idea whether the dogs are male or female, but saying 'he' sounded so much better than 'it'. The next animal story will be a 'she' (like the cat's mother) to balance the scales.

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The first sign of insanity

Have you ever heard people saying that talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity? Then a wise guy might add "It isn't the talking to yourself you have to worry about, it is the answering yourself back."

Well tonight I learned that talking to yourself is not as poco loco as 'they' would have you think.

We attended a rather fascinating sports psychology seminar this evening and discovered the importance of self talking. It can either be good for you (positive self talking) or bad (negative self talking).

I had a huge lightbulb moment when I realised how often I berate myself for not being perfect (remember how I grew up thinking that 99% equals fail?)

I habitually make negative (bordering abusive) comments towards myself when I fall short of the mark. Apparently this kind of carry on is not useful for achieving goals (or happiness). Nor is not uncommon for overachievers.

So with this new insight into my psyche, along with skills to counteract the ill effects of such self-abusive comments, I am ready willing and able to take action. It's time to switch the inner dialogue from auto pilot to manual, and take over the helm. With Captain Grace Champion at the wheel, I'll be turning that damaging negative chatter to a positive reinforcing weapon of mass construction. You just watch this space.

I am quite excited by the thought of what potential this new way of being could unleash... but then again my current state of excitement could also be attributed to the sound of the rain falling (see yesterday's post if the latter comment makes absolutely no sense to you).

Until tomorrow, be rest assured that talking to yourself is not a sign of insanity so long as you keep it positive - and agreeable.

Grace xx

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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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