Bells and Bobbles in a Tree

bell and bobbles in tree

 

 

Seems to me that spring is one leaky affair. Weather wise we’ve have three rainy days  to each one fair day. Makes of very damp grass. Also make very green grass. And thats’ the country we live in. Green. Wet green.


crazy pic of lilies

 

 

I’ve decided to dedicate the next number of years to understanding sound therapy and it’s influence  on our state of being. My dear friend Wendy Doman from Crystal Blues Healing and Teaching in San Felipe Mexico suggested that look again at this. When I arrived in Ireland in 2000 I was looking for teachers but found only charlatans

.Time passed rapidly and at the end of 2014 Wendy and I were have our weekly skype chat .She suggested that I go check out some more places and people that have course. She said that she just had a feeling about it and now might be the time to bring the correct teacher  my way.. . Days later I found a site called “The Colour of Sound Institute” .

Somehow it all fit.

energy gongs

 

Its been a very special…..and I must write.. no I will write more about this because its’ been life changing.

Table of Bowls
arhhh… ( oh.. i can barley sling a line together..)   Madness really….must write..can’t write…whats with this??

nevertheless…..

Thanks for clicking in

always eileen

 

 

 

And now a Full Moon months later….

I can see that if I truly want this blog to be read I best do more to keep it active. Well, right off the bat I’ve undermined this cause it seems to me I actually don’t want this to be the definitive blog from the heart. It’s more like a Lucky Dip Blog from the big toe…..                    I come in, I swish about, I leave and not return for .. well in this latest case..5 months…….whooo. close up on pink ring   Not to say that my life this year has been boring, it’s been anything but boring… in fact it’s been so not boring that I’ve been shy about writing .Writing this blog.. not shy about writing…heck no….I have reams and reams of foolscap  filled and making themselves useful as doorstops. Its just….because I don’t control this site I had to almost hate writing on it.. but I’ve had the site for so long… long like… way back when Word Press was something NEW  and you CRAZY and you had to pay for it. I got this site because the webmaster at the time was fresh and eager and cost me nothing. Nothing is exactly what I have gotten from the site ’cause the”master” own it.  I understand that he makes a small but not so bad yearly cheque from the site. And me… I can’t afford to by him out… Can’t afford to let it go. sunset in grey skies     So … what to do, what do to do…….or as they say in Ireland .”.Fado.. fado……” ( Which translates as …”A Long Time Ago…”.)  It would be the beginning of a story….. right.so…..

Fado Fado…..A long time ago.….There were no right or wrong ways except doing nothing. Doing nothing was definitely the most unpleasant thing that could occur. So she tried to avoid that. She tried to do something. Discovered that if fact it took very little effort to achieve the state of actually doing something. And in this case she wanted to feel better in herself, in body and in her heart.There were goals but she really hated goals more than she hated diets.

What she wanted was to feel the great way she imagined she would feel once she had achieved the weight, the look, the style, and the jobs that she craved. It became a slight obsession. Instead of thinking about what she would be like WHENEVER she lost the fat , she’d pretended for as long as she could, that she was exactly the way she wanted to be.

“They’re’ not warts, they’re beauty marks….It’s not a size 20.. it’s a size 2 plus infinity.”

IMG_0001 (2)

(It’s not a cat a in a coal bucket…it’s Bob in a metal chair)

She went on like that for the last 5 months. Since the January New Moon right up to the May Full Moon.

Fooling herself gladly.

“Life is hard enough,” she thought, “without giving myself a hard time. I prefer to feel good. I prefer to feel beautiful.  I prefer the magic of my mind than the dullness of criticism. Everyone is only too happy to tell me what I’m lacking. I can’t be bother listening to their untenable idea of what perfection is. It’s all a fad, it’s all a joke. Ultimately only I know whats best for me and my fat cells. And I love my fat cells. When they’re ready to go, ready to release themselves down the yellow stream of life, thats fine and dandy with me. In the meanwhile, it feels good letting myself feel good. That’s all there is to it.”

Purple flag

 

What is beauty to her is not beauty them.

Good thing she just a little passed caring about them, whoever they claim to be…

 

Thanks for clicking in.

Hope to write again soon,

but…huh.. no promises babe.

No goals.

Feel better now? Good.

always, eileen

Enter the New Moon…places pleases

It’s the 20th of January 5am….the whiteness of the night seems to have waken something more in me .

we’re past the winter though she’s still very much at home. And where I am there is a thick memory of water as the snow keeps falling.

A new moon is on the horizon. A good moon. A transformative one.

 IMG_0001

This month has presented itself well for me.

I performed in The Devil’s Spine Band Show at the Project Arts Centre on the 18th  My first Dublin stage appearance.

I secured my place in the Colour and Sound Institute.

And I apologized for a pear shaped evening 4 months ago.

Recorded a Sam Larkin song .

Submitted writing to contests.

Laughed until it really hurt.

This a list,a reminder,a tally shall we say. It doesn’t speak to the trembling newness nor the aching. But it passes as a living, as doing things, as make use of time, whatever time is. And if I can write here, on this page, once a month, for the remainder of this year, it will be nothing short of fecking miracle, and thats’ exactly what I anticpate happening from now til forever.                                                          hahahaha !

I think I’m very funny. I write as if I’ve never written before…as if the words are unfamiliar and the thoughts are well unformed.

A brave thing was told to me about a time long ago when I lived somewhere else and made my presence known. It was a compliment  made by a dead poet, yet another dead poet Nic Beat….and I was taken aback because I forgot that I was not forgotten.  And that I serve.That we all serve…. as good examples .. as poor examples… as live examples….. I am guessing that this is our true function as space humans.

I wonder if I can remember this seemingly simple thing as I make my way through this year.    And you… you reading right now….. I truly wish that you also remember something simple to make this time possible.IMG_0003

thanks for clicking in

always Eileen

Whoa hooo I feel ya now buddy!!!!

PONYTAIL PETE……………………… GOD BLESS YA .. i FEEL YE NOW ,,,,Thanks….Phew….i wondered what it could all mean .. and now you came to me and you came with clarity….

Bless yr pointed little head035

 

 

I shall continue to do my best !!!!

Thank you Pete for your dreamworld conversation and my juicy life ,cause  it’s soooosweet

 

thanks for clinking in

always eileen….043

 

 

 

How far away I am from myself….?

Of late, I’ve wanted to expel the dizzy unrest I’ve felt.

I want to explain it to myself,  to remove it or extrapolate and let it stand outside my being in order to pull out the hurt and bump up my frailty. I suppose it’s an okay thing to do. It’s human enough to shift blame. To reason out the why’s of an action. It’s …natural, I guess.

And I am guessing because… because though I wrote my angst and felt , oh so much more on top of things, at that moment anyway….I’m thinking more and more about what has not been said, the things I’ve not been able to explain, either to you , or more importantly, to myself..

018

 

And it’s not going to come easy or quick. I can tell.

I have to sit with myself now and just…rest. I guess. 031

That seems to be the most likely way to let truth surface.

i dreamed of old friends last night. Dead guitar players, playing with me in hell holes for pennies….. for 9 euro… that’s what Ponytail Pete told me. And we were playing in a basement on the side of a cliff or a mud slide… it was gruesome but…what I can I say, it felt cool.

Ah Pete..you don’t need to play for me anymore… you shouldn’t play for nothing. Not any more   Playing…just the thing of playing .. of turning out…..no…. you don’t have to do those gigs ….setting up in a hell….singing for slave wages….we don’t have to do that anymore.

ah Pete……..thanks telling me that. Thanks for showing me the raw… the unloved….the pity…

I had been thinking about the gigs to come in 2015 and here you show me what  might be… what could be…what once was…….

Pete… go find my brother John

He knew something of dark.. like you did.

Go find my Captian Dermot….he knew the dark as well

Go find my dog… she loved you too.

Pete …  cheers… my guitar player… cheers… one of a few men who sat beside me and sank into the groove…..You…..Jimmy Faye  of course… he was first… the first guitar player… the first to go as well…. but you… you don’t need to play the caves or the mines with me… not any more.

 

054who does one thank when you’re talking to a ghost?

 

always eileen

 

No … and Letting Go

We’re shedding here.  It’s a good thing.  I realise how little control I have in the shedding and how much control I have in the layers that leave.

 

029Each of these layers left by surprise. Each death, each birth, the writings of the year and the tears of memory quaked something cellular. Broke me into a new beginning.

Now Black John has made transition. I sat with his family and saw him in each of their eyes,each twinkle, each turn of a phrase. I saw that he was still whole in them.and still whole in me.

I’m glad to have seen these moments.. It became a cooling of frayed nerves as the present becomes memory, quick as the ink dries. Grief is not so lasting as it is simply a cord to a relic, remarkable and striking as it moves our memory into significance beyond tears.

Of course, there is more going on outside of those I mourn.

I have become demonized this year. That’s good too. And here I feel the long arm of Black John move my pen and mind, my heart widened to embrace more love for me and less attraction to those who chose agitation for entertainment.

…… If I am to be called insensitive for saying NO to having had my shoulder worn down to the bone from years of being cried upon then so be it…….  If  I’m to be labeled a bully for saying NO to the alliance of the narcissist’s victimhood, then cutting my hair just makes room for my horns.

NO

And when the NO’s started coming, there were the others, mutual friends, who listened to the story of my so called “bad behavior” and were never curious enough to ask me for my side of the tale. I have only one thing to say…………

NO

I said NO often in 2014. It’s as if I never used the word before.

IMG_0001 I am a demon now.

Good.

Be warned.

This year is ending and with it an innocence that has shrunk. It is wet and clinging….damp wool…..  watery pink plastic ….strands of niceness unnecessary but grasped unto for pity’s sake, for protection from fear of a hard cold shock. This tattered form of innocence can now be easily to flicked away with a most definite…..

NO .

003 Then why say thank you?  034

Because I’m shedding layers and I couldn’t have done it without these deaths.

These deaths both the physical deaths of friends and emotional deaths of those to whom I have said NO……They who are still living, I need not name……( I did last night and felt release, but this morning I know that it isn’t necessary to have their names be read, it was just enough to I wrote them down once. In this dull December morning light as I edit this blog, I understand that keeping their names on the page is tantamount to blowing on the flames I want to put out.)

But then ahh…… those who make my throat clutch and my eyes sting …This is the list that needs to read…… .My dog Puppydog the Best dog in Town……….

My last and final mentor Dermot Healy………. …….

My Uncle John Godkin whose job was to carry me from Ireland to Canada……

Black John Martin my spiritual lover, buddy and friend. The catalyst for Sunshine Bites.

Thanks for coming to me, and staying and thanks for leaving. I am so grateful.

To those who might read this…. Ach.. What year huh……..

Thanks for clicking in. May your eyes be soothed, may your heart find rest.

Next year?…Well I hope my writing is not so flowery and more to the point. It can only get better ( ah sure that not necessarily true but you know what I mean…. ! )

So…, now…. I feel more like… I dunno….. perhaps….me  ?

Cheers

always eileen

 

 

 

 

 

A Smile is a Curious Thing………..

selfie with yello primrosesIt elevates… energies….All the muscular necessities for maintaining a healthy disposition regardless of the whirling demons around.

When you smile from your eyes, as all good models do,you sweep the world your way.

So now I’m thinking of my dear friends, ( you can think of yours) who allow me… make me…compell me to smile with my true smile. Raising my heart (cracked again, but not bleeding), raising her up and away from this current of personal pollution.

And lo, but it has been a year to remember.  I shall not forgot the paths made by friends who married  or children born or songs sung as I shall not forgot the pain of loss and the triple edge of memory with its the slicing betrayal.

And its’ only fucking October…………….well……at least it’s October. Soon we’ll go into the 52 days of darkness of winter, of much needed rest.. ( I hope..I think I hope )……

 

I do believe I need more reflection

Pictures 2012 463thanks for clicking in

always-eileen

x

 

 

July Days 2014…

July 27th, 2014

On meeting Liz Marshall after 25 years.

 

Whoa.. her presence .!!!!!

As a vibrant, funny, insightful and keen as she was when we first met….she, a 12 year old child .

Her movie ‘ The Ghost in Our Machines’  was being debuted in Dublin through the invitation of Vegan Ireland. It is a poignant and beautiful experience.

Bob Wiseman’s sound  track to the film is masterful.

 

Liz has a great presence. Easy and effervescent. Intelligent and soulful .

And still a great beauty. 45 years of age and not a wrinkle on her brow.

Significant springs to mind. And a fascinating tumble down memory lane to the times when I was in my 20′s and she was in her teens and we fell under the spell a snake,         a conniving charmer, an egotist of the highest degree.

All in the name of the theatre. All down the path of Art,

…………………………………………………What of it…………………………………………..

It’s a long long time now…. we know who we were then… we know who we are now….

We are  still standing………………………………..

thanks for clicking in

 

always eileen

lizmars.com

www.theghostsinourmachine.com

www.bobwiseman.ca

https://www.facebook.com/VeganIreland

 

 

 

 

 

 

July Days 2014

July 28th 2014

I had some Dublin Days in July…

……in Grogan’s I met a man I had never met before named Ben Dwyer. Classical guitarist, composer, professor.   We talked about the Writer who recently died… About a project around the Sheela na gig…About practising our instruments.

I walked away from him towards to Accent Cafe, to an audience I had never played to before, in a place I had never been before.

These days are fresh in a familiar way.    Unadorned but crystal clear.

Makes me wonder about whether I’ll ever replace those lost glasses.bright sunthru a gate