“If your everyday life seems poor, don’t blame it; blame yourself; admit to yourself that you are not enough of a poet to call forth its riches; because for the creator there is not poverty and no poor, indifferent place.” — Rilke
Thanks for clinking on today. This quote was bright back to light by Priya Kale. Thank you Priya.
All the best to you
always
eileen
What do we do together? And why do we need to do it?
I am.
I am a solitary person by choice. Yet I need to interact least I spend all the day alone-which I partially prefer to do.
I force myself to participate.
Stir out of my comfort zone and leap into a public environment.
I must interact, for if I don’t then who do I serve?
What is the purpose for this life but if not to be with you?
Even though I am afraid of you.
Because,with you, I might lose what I have come to know as Me.
You might change me. Reshape my thoughts. Unhinge an opinion.
Alter my muse.
Quietly now… she is thinking and not thinking. She is being on the page. 
Cooking something……………………..beginning to light a fire to feed………..
.. perhaps just looking into a mirror and waiting
For she no longer recognizes what she looks like.
She sees older family members, lost tribes, antique hairpins and old tin spinning tops.
April is ending. There is a full moon on Wednesday that brings much to ahead. The planets are aligning in an unusual fashion.
And we now see the colours of the Earth rise up before our senses for spring has truly sprung.
Thank you for clinking in
all the very best to you
always
eileen
“Painting is an art. And art is a power that should be aimed at developing the soul. If art does not do this job, the abyss that separates us from God is left without a bridge.
The artist owes his talent to God and has to settle this debt. To do this, he has to work hard, know that he is free in his art but not in his commitment to life. Everything he feels and thinks is part of the raw material with which to improve the spiritual atmosphere around him.
Beauty, whether in art or in a woman, cannot be empty; it has to be at the service of humankind and the world.”
From Paul Coelho’s blog http://paulocoelhoblog.com/
Service with such love. A reminder of the trail that I gently make in this country, in the landscape, at this time of our awakening.
I write
I build a bridge
I sing
I build a bridge
I teach little children, old men, women with no language
and I build my bridge
to my soul.
thank you for clicking in
Hope your bridge is well……
always
eileen
Frank O’ Hara
The Sun woke me this morning loud
and clear, saying ‘Hey! I’ve been
trying to wake you up for fifteen
minutes. Don’t be so rude, you are
only the second poet I’ve ever chosen
to speak to personally
so why
aren’t you more attentive? If I could
burn you through the window I would
to wake you up. I can’t hang around
here all day.’
‘Sorry, Sun, I stayed
up late last night talking to Hal.’
‘When I woke up Mayakovsky he was
a lot more prompt’ the Sun said
petulantly. ‘Most people are up
already waiting to see if I’m going
to put in an appearance.’
I tried
to apologise ‘I missed you yesterday.’
‘That’s better’ he said. ‘I didn’t
know you’d come out.’ ‘You may be
wondering why I’ve come so close?’
‘Yes’ I said beginning to feel hot
wondering if maybe he wasn’t burning me
anyway.
‘Frankly I wanted to tell you
I like your poetry. I see a lot
on my rounds and you’re okay. You may
not be the greatest thing on earth, but
you’re different. Now, I’ve heard some
say you’re crazy, they being excessively
calm themselves to my mind, and other
crazy poets think that you’re a boring
reactionary. Not me.
Just keep on
like I do and pay no attention. You’ll
find that people will always complain
about the atmosphere, either too hot
or too cold too bright or too dark, days
too short or too long.
If you don’t appear
at all one day they think you’re lazy
or dead. Just keep right on, I like it.
And don’t worry about your lineage
poetic or natural. The Sun shines on
the jungle, you know, on the tundra
the sea, the ghetto. Wherever you were
I knew it and saw you moving. I was waiting
for you to get to work.
And now that you
are making your own days, so to speak,
even if no one reads you but me
you won’t be depressed. Not
everyone can look up, even at me. It
hurts their eyes.’
‘Oh Sun, I’m so grateful to you!’
‘Thanks and remember I’m watching. It’s
easier for me to speak to you out
here. I don’t have to slide down
between buildings to get your ear.
I know you love Manhattan, but
you ought to look up more often.
And
always embrace things, people earth
sky stars, as I do, freely and with
the appropriate sense of space. That
is your inclination, known in the heavens
and you should follow it to hell, if
necessary, which I doubt.
Maybe we’ll
speak again in Africa, of which I too
am specially fond. Go back to sleep now
Frank, and I may leave a tiny poem
in that brain of yours as a farewell.’
‘Sun, don’t go!’ I was awake
at last. ‘No, go I must, they’re calling
me.’
‘Who are they?’
Rising he said ‘Some
day you’ll know. They’re calling to you
too.’ Darkly he rose, and then I slept.
( Thanks to Ananda Caffery for posting this through the Pig Executives )
and thank you for clicking on
always,
eileen
Like.. being a witness as old wounds
as real beauty takes the lime light,
celebrateI’ll be finishing an 11 week program with 2 great lads John O’Mara and Conor Devine. They have been completing a course called FEATAC Drama Level 1 . In this module they have to experience what a drama is about, the various devices of a theatre journey and they have to participate as an audience member. Neither of them have ever been to a studio theatre performance, both might watch a bit of TV or the odd DVD but they won’t be theatre goers if you know what I mean.
They have been a pleasure to be with. Thank you lads and here’s to you .
Can you see me?
Not surprised if you can’t .. I’m taking the picture !
Hello and thank you for clicking on .
I have been remiss in the attention towards this site over the last while- and thank you to those who contacted me and asked what the heck was going on in Drumshanbo. You’ve done two things to me -1) you made me remember to get back on -line with this and 2) you’ve made me nervous .
Albeit , its a good nervousness that I’m having- the kind that makes me want to dot my i’s and cross my t’s and set the table and clean the window ledges. Its just that kinda nervous feeling I get when I have the sneaking suspicion someone is about the drop over without notice- someone for whom home keeping a vital component of time management and that next to God -like feeling……
Nevertheless…. whats happening….O’boy… let me say this much- MUCHO… thats whats going on. MUCHO stuff is happening.But I only have so many hours in the day…. lets do the highlights…
The week following St Patrick’s ( duh… OK here already I’m in trouble cause I don’t have St Paddy’s pictures at my disposal-yet.. but I will I promise I promise) Trust me, we had fun, we worked hard, I’m so glad St Patrick’s is a holiday and how I wish that the 18th of March was also a holiday. In fact, I so wished for a holiday that I decided to do some pretty serious detoxing beginning with pyssillum husks and warm soya milk. Sounds un-natural to some but believe you me , it was a great way to move along a lot of waste material in me old colon. But I didn’t stop there- I went out and ordered some Benotine volcanic ash.
Now you’re probably thinking that if I had waited till this month I could have spared myself the expensive and did a little job with the dust pan and I would have all the volcanic ash my indigestions could want- but how was I to know? So I flashed out the money to import this clay and mixed it with husks and viola, the husks carted away a heap of waste and the clay attracted the heavy metals in my bowels like flies to… ointment and though it gave a wicked headache, I was cleaning myself inside and sideways ( or ass backwards as they say) And then ,, I did one of those entirely brilliantly stupid things.. I went on a very serious drinking session with these two men…
DBC Pierre
(aka Peter Finlay)
Booker Prizer winner 2004 “Vernon God Little”
AND……………………………
Ed Deane- one of UK’s finest blues guitar player now back living in Ireland.
(I must say though we participated in the joys of the spirits till the we hours of the morning, none disgraced themselves and that was quite an achievement -given the amount consumed.)
We three are working on a performance piece based on Peter’s writing ( should be ready to go in September when Peter releases his third book) and to get to know each other a bit better, we had a very serious drinking session at Peter’s house, the 1930 Irish brothel house… not my story, you’ll have to get him to tell you about it.
Then, for the entire week that followed, I was spent trying to keep up with the obscene amount of drink that had been offered to me. Everyone…everyone wanted to buy me a drink…..How it is that I am not alcoholic is beyond me. Why I couldn’t just say “No Thanks”, is also beyond me…..ugh…
Resulting in… my underarms started to hurt. Felt weird in my armpits and I had the distinct impression that I have caused myself some damage.
So, WHOA says I .
Now since February I have had some odd dreams- I dream, constantly , of going to school. Not that I am in school per se but I dream of dropping people off at school, or find myself walking past a school, then once I dreamed was speeding by a cop and I double backed to find him and explain that I didn’t mean to drive so fast and then I hear my dog whining, followed the sound into a school and there was my only dog, on the top of a school locker and two older women sitting beside it , talking to me while I took her off the locker. The women also helped me locate where the pain was coming from on my dog and I pulled out a long wooden stick from her soft belly. Bizarre
I told my dream to someone I trust and he interpreted it and suggested that I go school. This is my higher consciousness education he was talking about. Okay fine says I , are you my teacher?
( Because he is a brilliant and gifted individual)
Nope says he, I’m not a teacher, I just share what I’ve learnt…. Fair enough says I.
I’ll keep looking…
Then.. I had this little conversation with my Spirit of Death.
The last time I ventured working with this Guide she told me in no uncertain term to FIGHT FOR MY LIFE. I took it to face value and really pressed along with the writing work I have….which is good very good.. I leap over some hurdles and the story is way cool- the book isn’t finished but it will be soon.
In this second mediation with my Spirit of Death, she tells me to go to New York.
Oh….fine… good.
I call my shaman and booked a session. I’m very , very nervous….I didn’t think that I could even go to an altered state because i was so freaked out. When I received this message from the Spirit of Death my inbox on the email account suddenly was flooded with messages from New York. People had apartments for rent, events were happening and suddenly I was finding myself thinking “How do I get to New York, right now???”
( not my bookshelf….)
I explain my predicament to Simone the Shaman and she couldn’t see what the problem was.
We have many strings that pull us a myrid of directions , says she,
( something like that.)
Go see where these strings lead.
Yeah, okay.. I understand… this is how I felt ten years ago when deciding to leave Canada for unknown lands… namely Ireland…but how strange is it that the Spirit of Death should tell me to go to the Big Apple.
Not so strange, says Simone, in the Merlin Tarot the Death card is also called The Apple Woman She’s depicted holding an apple.
NO Way, says I.
Oh man…….how cool is that……………………..?
The lessons that I am learning at this time is to pay attention to my dreams and to live for my dreams because if the truth be told there is no other place I’d rather down than a New York City street and though I don’t care to leave Ireland for good, (the craic is mighty lads) I have a dream and in that dream I am in the Big Apple.
Graciously, I thank you for clicking in and humbly ask that you too take a bite from that which dangles in your dreams.
And for the record, I’ve been sober twenty days….I’ve never been so long without drink….funny, I don’t understand how it is I still feel absolutely sloshed….
All the best. Nevertheless,
always eileen
The path up to the Balinafad Castle, County Sligo