The years swept by me like the cat’s tail flick.
Suddenly now I want to talk… I want to write…. want to come home to myself and this is a welcomed way deep.
Starting from where?
I’ve been cultivating new friendships. Random meetings of two different people; one drives down from the north, the other lives a stone’s throw away from the car park overlooking water. There, any good dog can play and meet other good dogs. And this led to regularly meeting-up at a particular time of day, schedules permitting, to talk and not talk. It’s been going on for a month or so.
It is the not talking times between us that’s a current beauty for me.
First time in I don’t recall how long, have I’ve been in company where there is such ease in silence.
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I am waiting in Dublin Airport to travel to Marrakesh for New Year’s.
A splendid idea fortified by Charlie Easterfield. http://charlieeasterfield.com/.
Yesterday I returned to Ireland from Canada and Christmas and the family and the North American blues. Less than 23 hours later I push myself towards something completely different.
New Year’s Day January 1st, 2016
I could cry with delight.
The day began with a start. Once recovered we entered this New Year alert. This moment finds me on the top terrace in the Medina with amazing smells of curries and floral wafting up the steep steps to a tiny terrace where nine of us sit, being served.
I love it. Adore the weather and the fashion. I should have been born here wearing scarves and floating dresses, longs earrings and diamond eye make-up.
Our hotel is a jewel. It’s a rich labyrinth, decorated with ornate hand painted tiles, geometric bands of colour and low, long couches.
We drink mint tea poured perfectly from a distance. It bubbles and addresses us. We bought hashish by chance and feel suddenly brazen, perhaps even more adventurous than dared hoped or dreamed.
At the end of the pot the mint tea is bitter and I am feeling most satisfied. Today the body isn’t as jet lagged as yesterday as when I flew into the future. This is good. My Canadian French is serves me for the necessary conduct of good manners and of ordering more mint tea.
Such an ancient place this Marrakesh. I am compelled to think of my Guardian in the red fez.
Later She and I spoke of the coming year, the desires for better health and what that means to us, what better health looks like.
Below our hotel room is a fountain still moving as the city quiets. No howling cats so far. Not like last night. The first sleep in Marrakesh the cats howled and fought outside our window. It was a strange welcoming. I was mixed up in deep sleep and sudden wakefulness. The kind where you don’t know where you are and truly I did not know what was what, when I heard the screaming , growling, baby’s cry, a woman’s pleading. It was cats but not cats. It was my mind begging not to know, myself afraid of surrender, my knees throbbing, my sleep not restful but undoing.
A day of listening. The first day of the year 2016.
Listening at the core. Carefully allowing any moment of truth to surface.
Then a dragonfly came, it moved past me, slowly in the heat, with the grace of flowing veil. Reminding me of a moment in North America when I dreamed of flying dragons and the way my ten year old nephew looked at the shop clerk in a crystal store and asked if she really met her dragon, “For real like?”
The unbelievable believed.
The unknown turning into familiar.
The right path.
Dust beneath our feet. And a sky so blue it would blind you.
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Thursday December 17th 2015
Whoa- what a long day and a half it’s been.
I’m flying now out of the U.S. skies from New York to Toronto, the last leg of this trip. It’s raining and it took a little while to leave JFK. There’s been turbulence and frankly breath-hold,panic rising moments as we fly.
This flight is an hour and 3 minutes. Once again time moves slowly. Or maybe its’ because I’m in the back of the plane and everything feels so sensitive, like at the end ripple of a heavy cotton sheet. The final whip of fabric.
Took the 2a.m. bus to the airport this morning and I’m glad for it as it was a filthy night in Ireland. The wind and rain battered the early morning travellers and I tossed in my seat, silently blessing the bus driver, thankful that it was him and not me driving in this wind as I slammed into sleep and out again.
The preamble to this trip a absolute delight. I Skyped Wendy Doman (Flower Essence therapist, lifelong friend and confidant), and talked for two and half hours. Her in Mexico, me in Leitrim. While chatting I did everything I needed to do, from washing the floors, to sewing buttons and extra packing. I knew I wouldn’t have a chance to speak to her again for at least four weeks. We covered, as good friends do, all topics. And not enough.
The taxi arrived 40 minutes early. I had it wait 15 minutes. Leitrim was flooded for the past week and only now the waters were receding a little bit. It was still risky on certain roads. Major arteries were impassable. The taxi was big heavy yoke, driver was the same coupled with a singular determined to get back to bed. She ploughed through floods like puddles on a Sunday. Drop me off at the bus stop and left. I stood in a half formed shelter with an unforgiving sky pelting the skin off me.
Dublin Airport was two hours later and the first flight to New York didn’t happen for for 6 more hours. I don’t have to go into the surreal world of pre-dawn passengers. We all know the loose minds, the dull eyes, the slack smile of over-waiting.
The morning pulled along until we left Ireland. A long flight to New York and now, finally out of New York.
This flight is on a small plane and there are no children or youths aboard. It’s reassuring somehow. If a fatality occurs, the present is killed, not the future. But more than this, I’m glad to be with others like me, who wear their travels on their face.
The black clouds of Ireland are still around me. The plane tosses. Then stops and the woman beside me close to window gives a nudge and says “Look, pilots must see fantastic things.” We’re above the clouds to azure and pink skies, bright orange horizon and a relief settles on this little sky bus. I don’t know what the weather is like in Toronto and for the remaining of the flight I do not care. The sun on the horizon is bright. Space above is deep. The billowing clouds below are just that, below. I close my eyes. Home for the holidays. I haven’t done this in six years. Time to raise the shields and attach the armour.
2016 will be a year like no other.
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In a fleeting moment of summer sun, Bob the cat basks in knowledge that all things sound… all things move…. with reason, purpose and if lucky, taste.
While others, now more present in death than life are carried as beacons to new years and fears and midnight burnings.
More curious than a solitary light our actions, be they subconscious or plain silly both defend and deflect. In this so called Irish summer I have vacillated rapidly between the two d’s.Then came upon stones and another skull in the county of Tyrone and the wonderment of water and rhythm and the beat of air.
Reflections, reactions and just plain making it up as I pick random photos from an untitled file.
This is all I have to say. Barely a coherent sentence, making sense to none but me. Still, there’s me to make sense of cohesion.
And the beauty of a late night party ties us all up in floppy fluffy knots……
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Darlings Hello How are You?……………………………………………………
Naturally I’m keeping up with not keeping up. Hardly believe that the last time I wrote on this blog was May…..( oops ..so much my self promise…..there’s a part of me that’s just not paying attention…and that particular part is not lucky enough to get fired.. ..)
One might think that that I’ve been twirling my hair and gazing into space these past few months….But no…I’ve……I’ve been doing…….THINGS….
.I’ve been…….studying……..and…..writing………Okay not on this blog but, we’ve established that… but………I have been writing…and working in the Glenamaddy, Extraordinarily Special Needs place getting the Christmas shows together……And……………… (what else?)… Other stuff…… ….Onward and onward……Hi Ho Hi Ho..La,lalalalala……..
Here’s my next public event….It’ll be a really big shoe……!
All is welcomed to the Carrick-on-Shannon Library in Leitrim .
come and strut your puppet stuff!
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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.
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.
Its been a very special…..and I must write.. no I will write more about this because its’ been life changing.
arhhh… ( oh.. i can barley sling a line together..) Madness really….must write..can’t write…whats with this??
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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. 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. 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.”
(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.”
What is beauty to her is not beauty them.
Good thing she just a little passed caring about them, whoever they claim to be…
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Hope to write again soon,
but…huh.. no promises babe.
Feel better now? Good.
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.
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.
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