gone, gone, gone

From six months ago, anger then, just a resdiual feeling now ...

Driving to my last day of work I played this track from the Alison Krauss and Robert Plant album 'Raising Sand'.

The line 'gone, gone, gone, coz you done me wrong' seemed appropriate.

Glad to be gone. Now let's move on.


For more information ...
raising sand

peek and boo look for work

Somewhere in this land. Early morning. A tree around which two swallows dance in flight. Enter Peek.

Peek: (Shouts) Do you believe in me? (Waits for a few seconds, listening, listens again, wait for a few more seconds, then exits.)

Enter Boo.

Boo: (Shouts) Do you believe in me? (Waits for a few seconds, listening, listens again, wait for a few more seconds.)

Enter Peek.

Peek: I thought someone responded.

Boo: To who?

Peek: To me, who else

Boo: You're not the only one.

Peek: I know that, there would be no problem if I was.

Boo: It could have been to me.

Peek: So there was a response then?

Boo: Not to you!

Peek: To you?

Boo: No, not to anyone. Not from anyone.

Peek: Having you been looking for long?

Boo: Too long and yet not long enough.

Peek: I know that feeling, it's not even the work itself you look for after a while.

Boo: No? It is for me, what more does a man need.

Peek: Yes, but there is something else also, that feeling of belonging and worth.

Boo: I just need the bread.



(Light moves across the stage.)

Peek: Oh! There might be some life here.

Boo: There might be, who knows?

Peek: Ah! Something will turn up, it always does.

Boo: Does it?

Peek: Eventually, yes.

Boo: Eventually, (pause), yes.

Peek: The start, you know, that is all we need.

Boo: Yes, but why does it feel like the end to me.

Peek: That'll be you and your misery.

Boo: And you and your misery, what does it feel like?

Peek: Ah! To hell with yeah! I think there is some life around here yet.

(Light moves across the stage.)

Peek: See, there you go, it could be the start.

Boo: Oh, it'll be the start alright, shall we try again?

Peek: Ok, that's the lad, I'll go first.

(Peek moves forward stage three steps, waits, looks around, waits some more.)

Peek: (Shouts) Do you believe in me?

(Waits for a few seconds, listening, listens again, wait for a few more seconds. Boo moves forward stage three steps, waits, looks around, waits some more.)

Boo:(Shouts) Do you believe in me?

(Waits for a few seconds, listening, listens again, wait for a few more seconds.)

Peek: I thought there was something there, like a low hum, a reassuring sound, an engine just ticking over perhaps or the fan in an oven.

Boo: Or a heavy door closing, or a book. Yes, that was it, a heavy book closing, a big one, mind you, one of importance.

Peek: Will we try again?

Boo: We will. We will try again, what else is there to do?

Fade to black.


For more information ...
peek and boos discuss optimism
peek and boo discuss the simple life
peek and boo discuss life and meaning
peek and boo discuss thought and action
peek and boo discuss existentialism
peek and boo discuss writing
peek and boo discuss god
peek and boo discuss power

not falling but flying

Nobody heard him, the mad man,
But still he was groaning:
I was stretching more than you thought
And not falling but flying.

Poor sod, he always liked fooling
And now he is falling
It must have been too hard for him to stick to the regular job
They said.

Oh, no no no, he was always too high anyways
(Still the mad one lay groaning)
I stretched too far all my life
And not falling but flying.

Apologies to Stevie Smith.


A sort of inverted interpretation of Stevie Smith's poem. It doesn't quite add up but still it seemed quite apt at the moment.

For more information
Not waving but drowing
icarus

if you go down to the woods today

I went with my son for a two hour walk in a woods close to our home recently and in the spirit of 'giving something back' I decided to pick up any rubbish I came across.
Below is just a selection of what I gathered.

Pieces of plastic, some domestic in nature presumably from other walkers, some from fertilizer bags from the adjacent farmland.

Yuck! tissues.

The mentality of someone who has finished with a lighter or battery and decides to throw it away astounds me. Presumably the sunglasses len was lost accidentally whilst walking.
Of course, it is crucial to keep hydrated when hiking!

Oh yes! and keep your energy levels up with some sweeties!

Transparent plastic is easily missed but not when there is lots of it thrown about.

The brown plastic thing is a protective cover for saplings that have been planted, it does a useful job but it too in the end becomes litter. The other stuff is some aluminum foil and wire.

Orange peel will decompose within a 2 year time frame but the yellow balloon and green tennis ball a dog has chewed will take longer.

Oh yes! Did I mention that if you walking make sure to keep hydrated something with lots of sugar should do the trick!

If you go down to the woods today, don't mess it up!

For more information ...
magog trust

myth of return

Take me back to those flooded deltas,
To the minarets of Mullaghmore.
Where fiddles play during Diwali
And Aid El Keibar in Kilfinoir.

Bring me to the crossroads
Where sitars play at saris glance.
A game of handball with the lads
Or perhaps kabbadi before the dance.

Teach me Hindi, Urdu and Irish
And we will speak as we did before,
When we left like parting lovers
In those yesterdays of dreams foretold.

Let me sing to Siddartha as Dev once did,
See Jesus and Krishna swap stories through the night.
May the women and men feel free in their love
Until the golden dawn, until the morning light.

But in the morning light day break delusions,
Dreams soon pass and reality will burn.
For Castlebar or Bangalore
We've dreamt once again this myth of return.
----------------------------------------

Written in July of 1994 and inspired by a study that revealed the Irish and Bangladeshis have the strongest sense of one day returning to their homeland. It contains a mix of Irish, Indian, Muslim, historical and geological references and I felt it was appropriate to post it given our imminent return to Ireland.

In places the words fail to scan and the lyric quality stumbles but I have decided to leave it in its original form.

What our return holds I don't know but we will be living close to a crossroads.

resignation

As a plough breaking up the sods of earth
and the hopper dropping a seed into the furrow.
Or as a knife plunging into flesh
and the blood spurting upon its return.
So I have looked for such significance.

An action pregnant with consequence
and birthing a new and different future.
Something other, something different,
not now, not ever been before.
The great expectation, the fulfilled promise of many a thought before sleeping
or before an unscratched lottery card.

I always thought there would be more but there is not,
life is, as it appears to be and no more.

Or is it?

In spite of our creation and wandering
for 70 or 7 million years
only the corner of the canvas remains blotted.
The vastness is untouched by most
and yet there are those who reach with brush and paint a great swathe.
And there are those who splash their color upon the ready and waiting whiteness.

Can I?

Pick up the plough, the knife or the paint brush
and stretch out into the future of my making.

The seed will grow, the blood will spill and in the end,
as always, the paint will dry.



--------------------------------------------------------------
Written in 20 minutes with probably 5 minutes of editing. An experiment in writing something inspired by my recent resignation from my job.

I have no job to go to but I would rather uncertainty in a future of my own making than certainty in a future that is not what I want.

A fool? perhaps.

a day in the life

As before I have decided to capture the mundane and banal from a typical working day.

Taking public transport to work is not an option as I work in the country side, so each morning it is into the car to drive over the flint.

My way to work takes me through the village we live in

and past the fields that will be full of rapeseed come next summer.

We live in East Anglia which is quite flat and there are still a few functioning windmills

before arriving at the business park a few miles outside Cambridge where I work.

And as at my work in Canada there is a needless obsession with security.

I have a window although the view is not of the rockies,
I can see rabbits from my window.

During lunch I go for a walk which takes me through
the rest of the business park which was a former psychiatric hospital.

There is a nice tree lined avenue which probably was
planted in the early 1900's and may have been designed for the patients.

How many troubled men and women have walked this way,
on many days in the last year they have been joined by one more.

For more information ...
a day in the life

labyrinth 2

We walked this 'turf maze' in Hilton, Cambridgeshire today. Once again the labyrinth follows the Chartres pattern and is a simple labyrinth anyone could probably make in their garden.

This one was created by William Sparrow in 1660 when he was 19 to commemorate the restoration of Charles II to the throne of England.



For more information ...
labyrinth
labyrinth society

no words

let no one sleep

Ireland, a nation who had never previously qualified for the world cup, came alive in June of 1990. A nervous start resulting in 3 draws took us through to the second round of the competition. Our luck continued when we then beat Romania on penalties 5-4. Sheedy, Houghton, Townsend, Cascariono and O'Leary scored and then Packie Bonner saved from Timofte to put us through to the quarter finals. A moment branded into the memory of those who witnessed it.

The tournament ended for us when we lost to a goal from Salvatore Schillaci and Italy in the quarter final. Schillaci would go on to win the best player and golden boot award but our luck had run out.

The ups and downs were experienced to the backdrop of the Nessun Dorma, the song of that summer. Pavarotti brought it alive and even though none of us knew of Turandot or Calàf, we all connected with the song.

No one will know his name and we must, alas, die.

So the chorus sings as the night begins to die, a fitting paradox for that great Italian singer who died today, aged 71.


For more information ...
pavarotti
italia '90
nessun dorma
maria callas

more monkey than monk 2

I have been trying some breathing exercises recently to calm my mind which due to a stressful work situation is more active than ever. The 'monkey mind' is chattering away.

I inhale through my nostrils for a count of 4, then hold for a count of 2, then exhale through my mouth for a count of 4 and dwell in the quite space after exhalation for a count of 2. Repeat 40 times and it usually changes my heart rate by between 10-20 beats per second.

(photo by marc shandro)

These photos are by a good friend in Canada whom I shared great conversations with on the topics of distractions and awareness. I miss my friends in Canada but in some sense because I am thinking of them I still feel connected, if only a little.

(photo by marc shandro)

For more information ...
marc shandros photos
flickr
more monkey than monk

jungfrukällan - the virgin spring

Sad to see the passing of Ingmar Bergman today. Most people remember his depiction of the Grim Reaper in The Seventh Seal but for me his best film is The Virgin Spring. It is a fable set in 14th century Sweden and explores themes such as innocence, jealousy, death and revenge.

I have an unfinished work that transplants the story into an Irish setting but retains the plot. It is in simple rhyming couplet form and I envisage it been like some of the Canterbury tales. I expect it wouldn't be half as good. The 89 minutes of the film would translate into a large poem and I have not had the creative or physical energy to pursue it but here it is, in unedited form, presented in remembrance of the departed Swede.


Cockcrow call the sun
And with the sunlight morning comes.
Let us look upon the hut
Where idle? Fi sparks the turf.
Eyes hooded dark and deeply felt
When with child she gives to vent.
"Anu, Danu, Don,
Anu, Danu, Don.
Mother of us all,
Mother of the soil.
Let this day break tender fruit
For you to drink of its juice.
Anu Danu Don,
Anu Danu Don."

Morning prayer on day that Saviour died
Welcome now a new and peaceful time.
Mother Mary mortifies her flesh.
As father does the chores before breakfast.
At wooden table seated now
With wooden bowls father, mother, Fi and Clow.
"Mother, does our child sleep late
Dreaming of dances as dance she did 'til late.
Go and awake her now so she may bring
The candles for the priest's blessing."
"I will awake her soon and to the church she will go
But 'til sweet dreams have passed and not before.
For tender is the night that softly lays
Unlike my ghostly visions that perturb my days."

Aisling, the maiden fresh as the spring fair
Still silent sleeps without world's care.
She'll go to mass late this morn
For the candles to be blessed by Father Tom.
Her mother pleads for her to rise
And the young girl does but at her ease.???
"Oh! mother dear, please may I wear my Sunday skirts
White stockings, blue shoes with pearls and the yellow shirt.
The skirts, the blue and the red
The fifteen maidens did weave with golden thread.
And finally to cover all
The darkest blue of my blue shawls."
"Now come! my child so sweet you must take care
Not to please so much the great seducers ear."

"When I was young I saw freedom would come
As a bird falls after flight to the sun.
Your comedy will soon begin", Clow says,
As he recalls wandering his young days.
Aisling now begins to mount
Fair Ban as Fi rides Dark Hunt.
From mother dear a final kiss goodbye
As father says "the Lord bless young life."
They leave the farm from wood it came
And back to wood they journey again.
Dark and fair through wood by lake they go,
Whistling in the trees these words sung by Clow.
"The winged bird will climb on high
And wander far in the spring time."


For more information ...
ingmar bergman
the virgin spring

the road is made by walking

The combination of a physical and mental journey and the interplay between both has attracted humans throughout the ages. The idea of pilgrimage is often associated with the fulfillment of a religious duty but first and foremost it fulfills a human need.

I have often found my reading has a meandering nature leading places I did not know existed or could not have planned visiting. Recently whilst reading Pilgrimage - Adventures of the Spirit, I came across the following lines from the Spanish poet Machado.

I thought the fire was out
I stirred the ashes
And I burnt my fingers.
- Antonio Machado

(photo: ravi bhavnani)

Great, simple lines that capture a moment, a Spanish haiku. My wife was somewhat familiar with Machado so I wikipedia'd him and came across this famous verse by him. What a great way to describe one's pilgrimage or journey through life.

Wanderer, your footsteps are
the road, and nothing more;
wanderer, there is no road,
the road is made by walking.
By walking one makes the road,
and upon glancing behind
one sees the path
that never will be trod again.
Wanderer, there is no road--
Only wakes upon the sea.

Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino, y nada más;
caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.
Al andar se hace camino,
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante, no hay camino,
sino estelas en la mar.
- Antonio Machado, Proverbios y cantares XXIX" in Campos de Castilla.

(photo: boblycat)

I probably would hesitate to recommend Pilgrimage - Adventures of the Spirit, unless someone was particularly interested in journeys of a spiritual nature. It does contain some good essays by Jack Hitt on the Camino, Nicholas Shrady on Buddha's journey and Kent E. St.John on visiting the only German concentration camp based on French soil.

Although I am not Christian I would, one day, like to walk the Camino, to climb Croagh Patrick again, to visit Jerusalem and walk the stations of the cross. I would not expect to meet God along the way but I suspect I would learn more about my fellow man.

Meandering though it was, this post is done. Now let's go on.


For more information ...
antonio machado
pilgrimage - adventures of the spirit

where go the boats

(source: Henry W Taunt)

Dark brown is the river.
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating—
Where will all come home?

On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.

Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore

Robert Louis Stevenson, from A Child's Garden of Verses, 1885.

I have made my own tune for this poem and have sung this to Tomas at night since he was born. We talk about this as been one of the 'old songs' and when I ask does he want one of the 'old songs', he says yes.

For more information ...
robert louis stevenson

an attempt at writing something positive

(photo: trace project, nasa)

light not heavy
now not then
air not earth
less not more
music not song
pictures not words
feeling not thinking
giving not taking
here not there
quiet not loud
we not I

sleep walking

all your life you have been sleep walking wandering in a dream all your days faking it for real now through the fog you stumble and wake upon an unknown shore feet unsteady and uncomfortable feeling it for real looking around the unfamiliar landscape no landmarks to guide you and then you look down at your feet and wonder

?where have you been?where are you?where will you go?

expanding

warrior of light

Repeated experiences have but one aim, to teach us what it is we do not want to learn.
- adapted from Paulo Coelho.



For more information ...
Paulo Coelho

be

Be friendly
Be polite
Be vocal
Be quite
Be the change you want to see in the world

Be real
Be authentic

Be thoughtful

Be passionate

Be excited

Be calm

Be willing to change

Be yourself

great expectations, great fears

Moving back to Europe, here are some of my expectations ...

We will see family more frequently
We will get family to do some baby sitting
There will be more time for Louise and I
There will be more time for Tomas
There will be a better work-life balance
We will experience the seasons
We will travel to Greece, France and Spain again
We will see our friends again
I will get to do some good work
I will volunteer more
Simplicity will take over from complexity


Moving back to Europe, here are some of my fears ...

I feel England is more edgy and threatenting and I fear for its effect on us
I fear I will fail at my job
I fear that my job is not what I should do
I fear that England will not be enough
I fear that been close to family is not what will lead to happiness
I fear that family will be too close
I fear for Tomas' safety
I fear for a negative effect on Tomas


After a few months I should check this list and see what has come to pass.