Soul Searching at Sunshine Beach

If you've been paying attention, you might have realised I was at the beach yesterday (that photo was the main clue).  Well, from Wednesday to today - hence the need for the personal hotspot mentioned on Wednesday as well.

It's school holidays (yay!) and, while I had a hankering to visit northwest Australia (I feel a pull in that direction at this time of year), I chose to stay closer to home.  I was going to go with a friend from work, I found and booked a place at Sunshine Beach (after the visit about 10 days ago), and then the friend got sick.  Instead of having a few days of beach and shopping, then, I thought it was about time I took stock of my life.  This is something that: a) I feel I should do more regularly, and b) I suspect most people do more regularly.  I felt this was required as: a) I haven't been all that happy this year, and b) the main protagonist in the book I've been reading (rather similar to myself I think), went through a similar part of life.  I haven't done this for a long, long time, and definitely never spent a holiday doing this.  Rather worthwhile, though.

I won't bore you with all the details.  In short, I noted some things about my life that I like, some that I don't like, some that I need to accept, and some things I can do to keep the good things good and improving, and to improve the not-so-good things.  The process is by no means complete - I might need an Escape Day next week to feel I've had enough thinking time.  I am armed with a To Do list, though.

Other perks of this trip:
Thanks to south-east Queensland's integrated ticketing, free transport there and back.
The beach instantly makes me feel better (which made it slightly harder to get started on the soul searching, but improved my mood and general outlook of life considerably).
Really fluffy towels.
Surfer o'clock.
A lot of beach walking means I am feeling super toned from the ribs down.
Saltwater and sand and sun.
Bad hair days are not so disastrous - I thought Thursday was bad, but then Friday happened.
Friendly accommodation staff.  This was possibly the most relaxed place I've stayed, I felt like I was just staying at someone's place.
The quickest way (and, I discovered a little belatedly, the safest) to the nearest shops was along the beach.  It's a tough gig, this one.

Wednesday's photo:

Sunset from the north end of the beach.  I left it a little late for getting back though.

Thursday's photo:

Getting all arty just after sunrise.

Today's photo:

I found a little creek leading to the beach.  This morning it was so peaceful and undisturbed.

Movie #19 - Hugo

I must warn you, I didn't watch the whole movie.  When I got home yesterday evening, my parents had already started watching this.  They filled me in on what I'd missed (not heaps) but I also had to watch it like a normal person.  No stopping to write down quotes or anything like that - although I did keep scooting in front of the coffee table to where my phone was charging to take some notes.  So this is not the most in-depth reflection.  What I did find, though, were 2 distinct themes which connect better than I originally thought.  Machines; and dreams.  

Hugo, living in the clock of a Parisian train station, is literally surrounded by machine - cogs and wheels and things working and things needing to be fixed.  If he doesn't keep the station clock wound then he might be found out as an orphan; he also has a need to return his father's automaton to working condition.  Looking out over the city one night, he says to his friend Isabelle that he thinks the whole world is a giant machine.  And every machine has the exact right number of parts, never any more than is needed.  And if the world is a machine with the exact right number of parts, then I must be a necessary part - and so must you.  The hard bit, of course, is knowing what your part has to do for the machine to be able to work, what your purpose is in this grand scheme.  But it is so hard, sometimes, to remember we are all necessary, even when we feel unimportant and invisible, and even those people who make us uncomfortable or annoyed are also necessary.

One thing Hugo loves is adventure.  You know you're having an adventure if there's a chance you could get in trouble (good advice, there).  His father used to take him to the movies, and now Hugo will steal into the theatre to watch 'dreams in the middle of the day'.  This movie is populated with dreamers.  And not the sort of dreamers who just sit around and dream, but those who have a dream and do all they can to reach that dream, no matter how fantastic.  Now, some people might think that magic tricks are unnecessary; movies are unnecessary; art and music and poetry are all unnecessary.  But if anyone has a particular talent for any of these things - and, as we know now, we are all necessary parts of the giant machine that is the world - then any of those things must be necessary.  This is rather topical for Queenslanders right now, as some of our state-funded school music programmes have just been axed.  Not happy, Campbell.  Everyone has a natural inclination towards something, and everyone's inclination is a part of the greater whole.  Knowing that this is partly autobiographical of the life of the director, Martin Scorsese, makes it even more pointed - all those kids stealing into the movies, acting their dreams, could turn into famous movie directors of the future.

Aside from the machines and dreams, the support-part of the station inspector, played by Sacha Baron Cohen, is delightful.  So plodding, so stereotypically police, but giving love advice to his superiors - I'd watch this movie again just for that.  And such a different role for this actor that I had to look up who he was (always a good sign).  There wasn't as much information on the music that was used, which I would have appreciated as it was really well done. 

Today's photo:

The afternoon light in here in the winter warms my heart.  Especially when there is a whole stack of fruit in front of the window.

Movie #18 - Frida

I watched Frida last week, over 2 nights, and very much enjoyed it.  It would have been very annoying for anyone watching this with me -  I take notes when watching movies now, and so a 2 hour movie can take substantially longer.  It has taken a bit to digest Frida though, a process I suspect will continue for some time.  Right now, it's still unfocused in my head so I'm hoping writing this will help it settle.  I wonder if watching this movie is totally different for non-creative types?  Well, it must be, as everyone sees things differently depending on their situation.  It would be interesting to be someone else though to see this movie from a different perspective. 

I like seeing things.  I've noticed that if there is a lot of dialogue, I notice less visually.  (Incidentally, I just watched the episode of NCIS which includes the line from my sub-heading; I've also been reading a Jasper Fforde book which includes descriptions of the RealWorld from a BookWorld perspective - the narrator is amazed at how much detail is in the backgrounds.  I was on high alert for backgrounds while watching the show).  While there was a lot to absorb aurally, the visuals were so well done in Frida.  Which is a good thing for a movie about artists.  The way in which Frida's artwork was incorporated into the movie was seamless and so clever, and the camera work - mwah.  Actually, the first thing I noticed was the setting.  One of my favourite authors is Isabel Allende, and the setting, particularly of the parents' house in Mexico City, was just like looking into my mental image of many of Allende's books. 

There were four things about the messages in the movie that stood out for me.  1 - relationships.  2 - why we do art.  3 - life isn't perfect, it's how we live it that matters.  4 - you can achieve as much as you think you can achieve.

1.  Seeing the way marriage is approached - from a Mexican, Communist, artistic, early 20th century viewpoint - was interesting.  Especially for someone who is artistic, single, and who plays at weddings.  Frequently.  I know that relationships can work - my parents are still together after more than 4 decades, and I have other couples in my circle who look like they'll be together forever.  But I'm single, and I have many couples in my circle who have not remained together forever.  And, playing at weddings, you can get very cynical.  Aside from the soppy vows and princess syndrome, if cracks are evident to outsiders on the wedding day, it doesn't bode well for a long and happy life together.  Not to mention the statistical likelihood of divorce.  There were a few lines in this movie that caused me to pause and write down the quote.  The first was at Frida and Diego's wedding, from a Communist Party guest: "Marriage is, at worst, a hostile political act, a way for small-minded men to keep women in the house and out of the way, wrapped in the guise of tradition and conservative religious nonsense.  At best, it is a happy delusion, these two people who truly love each other and have no idea how miserable they are about to make each other".  In this current climate, it's probably not quite so much the first option - although it's not out of the question - and I would hope it's not really too much the latter.  But I guess it depends on your choice of partner.

Frida entered into this marriage fully aware of her new husband's character.  She knew he was a womaniser.  Early on, she asked her father "What do you think is important for a good marriage?" "A short memory" is his reply.  But, after one of many 'indiscretions', which happen too often to be slipped under the rug of a short memory, she says she cannot love him for what he is not.  And, she loves him (sometimes, in that very passionate borderline love-hate way).  Women, of course, see love and fidelity differently.  We want to find a Leon Trotsky (maybe not with the affair-with-the-artist bit, but nobody's perfect), "someone who's willing to sacrifice a little of his own pleasure instead of hurting the woman who loves him".  The fact that Diego comes back to her late in life and is true to the end made me cry, to be honest.  How lovely - but how frustrating!  Maybe creative men can only be true when they've had all their (extensive) running-around time.  And what that means for me... it can be a little disheartening.  But, moving on.  I'm going to jump to numbers 3 and 4 here.

3.  Even though Frida had a challenging life - a traumatic accident, a life of physical pain, a philandering husband, being an artist - she really lived.  She really loved.  (4) - She set her own goals, based on her own ideas for her life.  Doctors telling her she would never walk again did not stop her from walking again.  Society saying young women should marry and reproduce did not stop her dancing a tango with another woman (and more...), marrying late and not having any children (except for one who died at birth).  She lived her life and endured much more than she thought she could.  There were some things that seem to be universal, though.  Infidelity hurts.  The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.  The kitchen is the best place to get to know someone, and cooking is a great way to bond, even if it's with your husband's ex-wife who is living upstairs and still cooking him breakfast.  Our hopes and expectations are two different things: we can hope to marry someone who will be faithful, but if we expect it we will be disappointed.

2 - I could really identify with Frida's drive for art.  My most productive practice sessions, and inspiring or passionate performances, all come from emotion.  As someone who has a generally ordinary life, this can be a bit of a drag.  But that need to turn to a creative outlet - a bit like the 'pensieve' that Dumbledore uses in Harry Potter - is such a huge part of life, a natural reaction.  How do non-creative types deal with heartbreak???  And not just as a way to deal with what life throws at you.  "If you're a real painter you'll paint because you can't live without painting, you'll paint til you die".  Of course, this also comes with the existential angst with which I am well-acquainted - "My little paintings can't mean anything to anyone but me".  On one level, there is little purpose in what we do - at least, in terms of furthering humanity (we're not curing cancer or anything) - but there is something to be said for creative expression which connects us and makes us feel.

Writing this has helped the digestive process, as hoped.  Accept others for who they are, with all their blessings and faults; live your own life the best way you can; live as much as you can; do what you are driven to do and you will have lived your life well; happiness and fulfillment are not the same thing.  And, perhaps, make sure you can cook.

Nearly forgot the photo for today:

Winter sunlight hitting the last pear and lemon in the bowl.

Movie #17 - Life As A House

I was given the impression from one person that this was a totally cringe-worthy chick flick, but obviously the person who loaned it to me thought it was a worthwhile watch.  So I began not really knowing what to expect.  Seeing the 'R' rating gave me a little shock, but it was nothing overly outrageous.  Some pill-popping and teenagers being teenagers. 

This movie made me cry buckets.  'Sweaty eye syndrome' was suggested, but this was more along the lines of 'sweaty because I've just run a marathon barefoot over gravel' syndrome, so I'll just admit I bawled.  More than I have in a long, long time.  But in the middle of a teary part, something would happen to make me laugh, so I think I could watch it again and enjoy it.  (There are some really funny lines).

There was so much in this movie.  How to make something of your life, even with only a few months to live.  What makes us happy.  How to make our kids happy and productive people.  How do you know who you are?  How we relate to our parents, how we see them and judge them and react to them.  Even though the movie was made about 10 years ago, it is so pertinent to today.  More on that soon.

The family situation reminds me a bit of the 2 movies I've seen in the last year about school killings.  A house which is more magazine than home, and a father who is more absent than involved.  And a lack of hugs.  Not so apparent in the other movies (Beautiful Boy and We Need to Talk About Kevin), I only really noticed it here because the youngest child is so free with giving hugs.  When he gives an unsolicited hug to his dad, the dad finds something that the boy needs to fix (wash hands or do homework or something like that).  On the subject of physical contact, one scene really struck me.  In the earlier part, the main character, George, is in hospital and his nurse touches his forehead.  He comments that he hasn't been touched in a while and the nurse is surprised.  "Everyone is touched by someone who loves them", she says.  That is taking so much for granted.  There have been times in my life where I've been without physical contact for weeks and weeks, and only when a student has given a spontaneous hug that the drought has been broken.

This movie also highlighted the connectedness of our lives.  We see a family extended through divorce and remarriage.  As the house gets going, neighbours start to chip in and by the end there are about 20 people at work.  The Problem Neighbour is persuaded not to stop progress of the house as he is unfortunately connected to Sam (the 16-yr-old son of George).  Another neighbour - actually, if I say there are decades of neighbourly interaction I think that will be enough.

Rules, boundaries and risks.  Such a fine balance that is needed.  Children need boundaries, guidelines for what is ok and not.  But when does a boundary become a box?  George had been restricted by his father's ideas for his whole life and only when he has merely months to live does he pull down those walls (literally and figuratively) and make his life his own.  Although his death is terribly sad and so frustrating now that he's making good connections with his son, how wonderful that he had this forewarning that he didn't have long, and the courage to do what he needed to do with his life.  Not all of us get this chance, or the vision to see past the walls put up around us by ourselves and by others.  We need boundaries, but we also need to take risks.  If we don't take risks we don't grow and are again restricted in our lives (just like me ice skating yesterday), plus we don't develop the resilience needed when life deals us a surprise blow.  As I said, just as pertinent now as 10 years ago, if not more so.  Navigating what's ok and what's not, believing in our kids and protecting them from the horrors in the world but giving them the skills to deal with life on their own - I'm sometimes amazed that people manage to turn out well-adjusted at all.

How do we know who we are?  As a creative person, this question has plagued me for many years (closely twinned with Does my life have purpose?).  Sam says, "I am what I say I am", and this is in some ways such a true statement, but in other ways such an unhelpful statement.  I am what I say I am (provided my actions correspond), but how do I know what to say?  I can say whatever I want, but how do I know which version of me is true, and how do I stay true to myself?  How can I build my life to be as Me as I can?  And how can I still be happy?  It seems the key to happiness is to do what we love - which seems like such an obvious statement, but how many of us ignore this and do what we think others want us to do, or do what will make others happy instead of ourselves?  When Sam finally starts to help with the house (against his wishes, but a useful task) he finally finds some self-worth.  Partly because his dad didn't give up on him, but made him stay there for the summer to do something useful with his life instead of wasting those months with a friend.  And how blokey, for them to bond over pulling down a building (it reminded me of the episode of The Simpsons where Lisa thinks she's losing her smarts, and Homer and Bart are delighted by a tv show of buildings being torn down).  Even more, by the end Sam has grown as a person so much that his last act is so selfless, so mature, so right, correcting his grandfather's misdeed. 

So now I need to ask myself: am I happy?  am I doing what I really love?  am I building a house (metaphorically) that I love and is me, or am I building four walls around me that are restricting my life?

The Why

I am very much a creature of habit.  More so, perhaps, than most - I score very highly on the Autism Spectrum.  However, in 2010 I said 'Yes' to a challenge and my life changed for the better.  The circumstances of 2011 required me to draw the security blanket of habit closely around me - my resolution to make a new recipe each week was the only attempt to assuage the tedium - and by the end of the year I could tell things were not as brilliant as they could be.  So, here I am trying to make my life better, or at least more varied, by trying to do as many things as I can differently.  They may not all seem big things, they may not all feel like big things, but I hope to stretch the boundaries of my comfort zone and enjoy my life a little more.