A bit of déjà vu

I was telling Michael the other day that I've been in the same situation before. Waking up, exercising, drinking my favourite brand of coffee, gardening, cooking, crafting, attending online classes or zooming with friends, walking in the park and then hitting the sack. 

The only difference between today and tomorrow is the weather. If it is raining then there's no gardening or walking in the park.

Repetition.

And this has been happening since Level 5 restrictions began and today is Day 39 and we will break free on December 1. 

My mind is going on overdrive as what I would like to do after December 1. The list of things I would like to do seems to get a little bit longer by the day.  The first thought is going as far as the new restrictions allow. If it is across county then I must arise and go.

I remember when I was a child and had to stay in bed because I was sick, I would write a long list of things I wanted to do once I got well. As with most Asian parents, my mother would put me on a very strict 'invalid diet' which meant I have to abstain from certain types of food until I got better.  For example if I had a sore throat, I wasn't allowed to eat anything deep fried. Or if I was coughing, I couldn't go near the ice cream cone. So while everyone else in the household was enjoying their fried chicken and ice cream, I would write down in my notebook under ' Things to eat when I am better' : one piece of fried chicken and one ice cream. I think that's where I learnt the power of self discipline, abstinence and delayed gratification.

We are approaching the end of yet another year, and everything seems to be happening so slowly or so fast depending on how you look at it. One thing is for sure, we can look forward to another new year, 2021, and in Facebook speak, a year that will hopefully garner more ‘Likes’ than 2020.

To me December is the beginning of cold wintry nights, shorter days and crisp air. It is also a time to slow down and take stock. And if I were a bear, I would put a sign on the entrance of my cave: HIBERNATION mode on and if you need me I’ll be inside until April. Imagine the cold cocoon and the deep sleep.

My garden is quieter and the raised beds have been dismantled to make way for a polytunnel next Spring. But beneath it all, the roots are riotous and the creatures that live in the soil are alive. I think of persistence, determination and rising up again.

As I go about putting up decorations and shopping for presents and cooking up a storm, I will take a moment to reflect on the things that matter to us. Moments that we cherish and good memories. We will remain safe and healthy throughout this season to emerge strong and energized. In the new year, we will make new plans and carry them out. So let’s say goodbye to 2020, and raise a toast to better days to come, to a brighter future and a hope. 

And if local or international borders are open again safely, we will travel from the North Pole to the South Pole, from Europe to Africa to Asia to Australasia and to the Americas and cross the Tropic of Cancer, the Equator and the Tropic of Capricorn.

A blessed Christmas and a bountiful New Year to all…………

Eat, drink and be cosy.    

NOVEMBER NOW

 

It is November and I'm thankful.

For public photo journalling, every day of this 6-week Level 5 restricted movement order, so I can remember how I am managing to bring life into this season.

For private notebook journalling, so I can record my praises and petitions and wait for prayers to be answered.

Yes this year has been very curious indeed but I'm thankful still.

For the beautiful land that I am in now and the beautiful land that I left behind. 

For open spaces and birds singing and fresh air and bells ringing.

For so many true friends that I've made and the few that have left but still keep in touch as if they have never left. 

For the sunshine and the rain, that nourish the vegetables and flowers and  trees that bear leaves and trees that bear fruit. 

For good days, and the not so good days with the occasional sniffle, that makes me appreciate good health more. 

For family, that I remember not to take for granted just because they are around me and with me. 

For new knowledge like zoom, podcast, cloud cast, chrome cast, team app which I was afraid of in the beginning but have now become my allies. 

For reaching out to those who are lonely and those who are less fortunate than I am. And the response in their eyes say it all.

 For plans made, for plans cancelled and for plans yet to come. 

 

Indeed I am thankful for the fact that I can still breathe….and say I am thankful.                                                                                                                                                        

PLUS ONE DAYS

Some television stations have Plus One programmes which gives you another chance to watch your favourite shows an hour later. This does mean that there are people who are happy to not miss a tv show.

Now, here we go again with another 3 weeks of Level 3 restrictions throughout Ireland. A change to what shops or services can remain open, how many people you can meet at one time and how far you can travel amongst other things. Restricted movements never go down well with anyone, especially if the changes are rather sudden.

Like many others caught in the same predicament, we also had a taste of it. Nothing drastic or life threatening, just some inconvenience.

We had a holiday planned out and so we had to cancel everything. Quite a bit of a last minute cancellation but the hotel administrative staff was pretty kind and understood that the fault was neither ours nor theirs. So it was penalty free.

So what has that got to do with Plus One tv programmes?

I thought there is some similarity there. 

You know, with an active mind, you can almost draw similarities between totally diverse situations and yet everything adds up in the big picture. Michael would say, that I would start off with something at the beginning of a story, which then meander to another and then at the end everything comes together. You just don't know how it spins.

Plus One Days.

This is my new coinage. Simply put, the days that you are meant to be somewhere else, but you get to spend them at home instead.

What does that mean to me?

For a person who is mentally and socially active, it means that I get to spend such days without any plans made. No  appointments, no visits, no gatherings, no duties. 

So I get to spend extra days simply doing what I like on the spur of the moment because I haven't committed myself to doing something planned.

Plus One Days.

Sleep. Yes, extra hours on the bed hugging my pillows. (I have many - different shapes and sizes) Who wants to draw the curtains to let the sunshine in? Who wants to crawl out of the comforter with the hot water bottle next to you? Who wants to get out of comfy, snuggly fleece-lined jammies?

Plus One Days

Music. Yes, listening to On My Way by Alan Walker, Sabrina Carpenter and Farruko. The song, the voice, the video, the lyrics!!

So take aim and fire away...I've never been so wide awake...The blood moon is on the rise, The fire burning in my eyes....And I'm on my way

Reminds me of the shower scene in Flash dance so many years ago. Where Alex Owens (Jennifer Beals) was a welder who wanted to become a dancer, but she represented anyone with a dream.

 I can be 16, I can be 90, but the spirit is still the same. Freedom, emancipation, unfettered, unleashed. No boundaries. To be Myself.

Plus One Days

Write and Read. Exactly. Write my blog. Write my letters. Write my cards. And read. Yes, read that magazine, read that book, read that letter....again.

Plus One Days

Appreciate. Count the moments. The moments I have lived, through pain and joy. The moments that seem to be forever. The moments that are fleeting. The moments when I am surrounded by the people I love. The moments when I am surrounded by myself, me, mine. I am very comfortable in my own skin. I see the ME in the colours, the sounds, the heat, the cold. I feel the damp of the fallen leaves, brown and almost brittle. 

Plus One Days.

The joy of NOW.

In the Palms of His hands

I was watching Nationwide on RTE 1 and came across the Bábóg Project.

The Bábóg Project aims to gather 6000 dolls. One for each of the estimated number of babies said to have died in Ireland’s former Mother and Baby Homes. The aim is to acknowledge that every child is a precious gift and deserves to be loved and cared for. (https://www.thebabogproject.com/) 

 I have decided to make 2 dolls for the project, small enough to fit into the palms of my hands. 

As I sit and sew, I pay tribute to each infant who was born precious and worthy of my time and attention. 

I believe everyone who makes a doll goes through a personal journey. A journey of loss and hope. A journey of sadness and letting go. An endeavour to bring closure to grief unspoken. 

What is a mother's personal grief?

It is when you see your child suffering and you wish you could be the one suffering in his place instead. It is seeing your child go through a myriad of experiences that could either make or break him and all you can do is offer that emotional, spiritual or physical support. But you can't carry his cross. 

It is when you see your child making bad choices and your heart screams, 'Don't do that, don't go there' but you can't do anything because he chooses to go there and all you can do is to just watch him go and hope that he will be set free from the trap that ensnares him.

It is when you see your child caught in the crossfire of another's anger, prejudice and hatred, through no fault of his own, just because he is born of a different colour or of a different gender. 

It is when you see your child falling through the cracks and ends up being on the other side of the law and his young life snuffed out like a flickering flame. 

As I hold the tiny dolls in the palms of my hands, I am reminded that God has carved us on the Palms of His hands. (Isaiah 49:15 )

The finished dolls will be gathered together by the Bábóg Project and will form part of a travelling exhibition before they reach their final resting place.

And I am humbled to be part of it. 

Canal Locks and Rain:It is all in the specifics

We woke up today to very cool weather and endless drizzle. 

Me: Where shall we go today?

Him: Let's check out Victoria Lock, the first lock on the Shannon river upstream from Lough Derg, to begin with. 

Me: (checking Google maps) Lock or Loch? 

Him: Hope the rain will stop

Me: I'll pray that the rain will stop at our destination (s). You have to be very specific so as not to deprive others who need the rain. 

I like to learn. Never being exposed to much engineering knowledge, Wikipedia told me that a lock is a device used for raising and lowering all sorts of watercraft (think boats, ships etc) between stretches of water of different levels on river and canal waterways. 

Clear enough. 

Anything beyond that, the brain will scream : Cannot compute. Information overload. 

The trail to Victoria Lock went cold. Faded signposts led us to muddy farms and dead end roads. Not uncommon. After all, we were not searching for what Father Ted would say a Class One relic. 

But we did find another lock tucked away in Shannon Harbour. Lock 35. (not to be confused with Phantom of the Opera's  Lot 666 a chandelier in pieces.)

The rain stopped. 

I was watching the engineering wonder very closely. 

It is all in the specifics. 

Behind the gates of the lock, the water was crushing at great force, as if trying to break through. Pounding hard like medieval marauders with a huge log of wood thumping at the castle gate, trying to break into the castle while soldiers defending the castle poured hot oil on the invaders from the turrets above. 

On the other side of the gates the water was very calm, totally oblivious of its raging neighbour. 

Me: Which side personifies you? 

Him: I don't know. 

Me: I'm the raging side trying to smash down the gates. 

The thing is the gates cannot be opened all at once or the water will just gush down. They have to be opened gradually so the water can be regulated and the impact gradual. 

That would be the most frustrating process for me. 

Because let's say I want improvement  but am met with resistance. 

I'll have to learn to be long-suffering and patient. I have to accept that some things might change but it may not be now. So it is this process of thinking, negotiating and hoping that keeps the adrenalin pumping. This is what is called the excitement of living. 

As we made our way home, we noticed that clear skies had become grey again. The moment we reached our neighbourhood, the rain started. 

Me: Did you notice that it didn't rain at our destinations but it is raining now? 

Him: Yeah

Me: It is all in the specifics. 😊

THE BEAUTY OF DESOLATION AND SILENCE COMBINED

 

Isn't it strange that when you revisit a place that you like, you get different associations and feelings?

 Just like when you watch your favourite movie over and over again and each time you notice something that you never noticed before.

I'm talking about the Burren, the place that never fails to evoke strong impressions on me. In fact it has left such an impact that this is my 3rd post about it in a span of 9 years.

When I think about desolation, I think of the state of being deserted, the state that draws a blank, the state of loneliness. It is like the aftermath of something catastrophic. A post Covid 19 scenario. An apocalypse.

And the silence. It is the peace in the silence that strikes me. Nothing but grikes and clints that stretch for miles.

Himself asked me why I wanted to see the Poulnabrone or the Portal Tomb again as I had seen it so many times before.

Every logical question deserves an illogical answer.

My answer is because I have changed from the last time I saw it but the Poulnabrone has not.

That is the reason why I keep taking photos of places I have been before.

There's this interplay of transience and permanence.

I would like to think that I am transient. And when I look at the Poulnabrone  that has withstood the onslaught of time, that is permanence. 

But then again, by a sudden change of wind or an unprecedented climatic disaster, the Poulnabrone that I saw today could also be gone tomorrow, flattened and broken into smithereens. 

The beautiful thing is even in this karst landscape, a flower grows. That is the last thing anyone would expect. That is what I call hope. And it is absolutely beautiful.

INSIDE LOOKING OUT

We went to a lovely restaurant the other day, just to celebrate the fact that we could go out and dine somewhere else other than home. The little things that we have been used to have become so much more precious. I was sitting INSIDE, LOOKING OUT at the people passing by. 

And I thought to myself. Here I am, reading the menu and choosing what I want. No holds barred.

Imagine many years ago, when I was travelling on my own presenting papers at international conferences on a shoe string budget. Especially during winter when I saw people laughing and dining in fancy restaurants behind frosted windows and I wondered what it was like, eating in the comfort of great smells and warmth. I was on the OUTSIDE, LOOKING IN.

Instead, I would have walked into Sainsbury or Mercato and bought a drumstick and a roll - that would have sufficed as dinner. Just because there were greater concerns of the day and expenses that needed to be met.

Recently a small company approached me to make fabric masks. What started off as making masks for family and friends had suddenly evolved into a possible business. (Sometimes I see myself as having the Midas touch because I am never short of people who want to buy my handmade things) 

But I said NO. Not now, not ever I hope. Because my 'working' days are over - days when I had to work very hard to make ends meet, to raise a family. Indeed I have made my million and the children are well and capable.

So time is precious. How I want to spend my time is precious.

Just like Anthony Warlow's 'This is the Moment'.

This is the time when the momentum and the moment are in rhyme. This is the day I want to live for, to see it sparkle and shine. Where every endeavour I have made is coming to play, is here and now. 

Today.