Anam Ċara

I woke up this morning to grey skies and as I made my way downstairs I would usually stop halfway on the staircase and look at the sitting room. Himself was sitting by the fire (yes, the fire was blazing to dispel the morning cold) and he looked up and smiled. Same man, same chair, same fire, same sudoku puzzle in his hand. 

Routine and reliability in all its charm.

In 2008, I read a book called Anam Ċara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom by Irish author John O'Donohue. Anam Ċara refers to the Celtic concept of the "soul friend" in religion and spirituality. It is friendship that understands the heart. It describes a very specific and special relationship between any two people.

It is the small things and the big things that we recognise as expressions of care and support. 

In a very noisy world, we can miss that very easily: miss showing how and miss recognising the presence of it.

With the lockdown, the world doesn't seem so noisy any more. 

As we stay in our homes, we  can either numb our senses with the constant blaring of the television or we can pause to hear the dripping of the tap or watch the dog twitching in his sleep, because he is running off with a string of sausages and the butcher is hot at his heels.

I enjoy this extended period of quiet and no rush. There is  this occasional zoom craft class, or bible study class or dance class to break the momentum, and that is absolutely fine. Now that I don't have to drive so much, I seem to have more than 24 hours daily to sleep, to write, to read or to sew.

And I am not afraid to share my thoughts, my feelings, my passion, my stress with himself. 

However small or willy nilly they seem. Because I know there is a good listening ear which is  trying hard to understand why such a small thing would bother me. Because we are made differently. So by now, he is used to my random thoughts and my perception of things -  critical thinking , philosophy, ideologies, craft, cooking, gardening, fashion, parenting, books and everything else.

It is communication at non-verbal as well as verbal levels. 

By now he knows me so well to know what piques my interest. He will stop the car, I don't have to ask him, just for me to run down and take a photo of the spectacular Santa by the roadside.

A true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who tears down your walls and brings you to your own attention so you can change your life . - Elizabeth Gilbert

I don't know how many more weeks or months we have to be in this lockdown. But I am content to be with himself sitting by the fire. My source of comfort and trust.

My Anam Ċara.

YOU WRITE MY STORY

I am surrounded by icy winds and frosty air. Water in the bucket has turned to ice. The doors of my greenhouse are frosted and 'glued' together. Hachi runs around and enjoys rolling on the frost bitten grass. A different season indeed but there is so much beauty and quiet this time of the year. It takes going through Winter to appreciate Spring.

So I retreat into the comfort of the warm fireplace, do a bit of quilting and listen to my favourite songs on spotify . The songs evoke a gamut of memories and emotions which then leads me to write.

I start the year with prayer and fasting. That 2021 is surrendered to God.  Forgiveness and trust. Fears and promises. People I care for. Things unseen, situations hoped for. Letting go. Most of all for protection and safety.

When I think back of my childhood, my teenage years, my adult life and my now. I feel that I've been travelling on Life's journey for sometime now. Will I go back and start from the beginning again if given the chance? Will I live any differently?

No. 

I wish I could have avoided the trappings. I wish I could have avoided the pitfalls. I wish I could have avoided the mistakes and the pain. But if I did, I would not have learnt, what it is to be human, to be kinder and to be more sympathetic to others who might have experienced what I had gone through.  I would not have learnt how to walk in someone's shoes, how to care, how to have empathy, how to hold my tongue, how to speak out, how to battle prejudices and how to encourage. My husband and children are proud of me. My friends share their hearts with me. I am very blessed indeed.

I see the daffodils trying to push through the snow. There is life yet. And I am thankful for the 355 days ahead. For new milestones and wise choices and decisions. For miracles and answered prayers. For family and friends and for acquaintances who have yet to become friends. 

Every milestone. Every experience. By design or by choice. 

YOU write my story. 

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. 😊