(Evening in Greystones)

Sitting here in another cafe… Powerscourt House, in Enniskerry. From my seat I can lift my head and see the gardens and beyond the Sugar Loaf mountain, the big one? I have a perfect americano in front of me and I can smell the  scone I’m going to eat after I have finished writing. Just one small challenge….

(Rainy chairs in Powerscourt)

The room is empty except for two women of a similar age (youngish then…) and similar interests to me sitting at one of the windows. No problem there. The problem is their conversation…. it’s very interesting! Making it a little difficult to write. Recently I purchased a €3.99 piece of software that clears the screen, silences all beeps from the computer and plays very meditative music. So I have it up to its loudest and I can only hear a snippet of their interesting conversation. I think I’ll be fine.

(The shops are behind bars in Powerscourt) 

Every cloud has a silver lining though, they have (even without giving away their secrets) provided food for thought. I am distracted by many things in my ordinary day. Things that need to be done, things that other people need to do, conversations I fall into, conversations I jump into, reading I am distracted by, reading I distract myself with….

It’s not going to be easy to get the things I want…… unless…. I remain very focused about what I want, because there’s lots of other very interesting nuggets trying to distract me.

Ommmm, Mairead.

(A top secret and very pretty road at Powerscourt)

Yesterday I was talking about asking for what you want. That’s only the half of it, the second half of it. Before I ask for what I want I really have to know what it is. Right? So, in yesterday’s example, I wanted two hours writing. Simple, take the two hours, go off by yourself, come back when the time’s up, no need to ask for anything. Right? Well…

(The rock of Powerscourt)

In order to know that I wanted two hours writing (and then go off and get it) I had to own up to wanting it. When I was fourteen I liked a boy who was twelve. I kept it a secret from everyone. No self-respecting fourteen year old girl could want a twelve year-old for a boyfriend! The very idea! I couldn’t own up to wanting that!

Well… unless we own up to wanting what we want (no matter what anyone else thinks!)….. we’ll never get it. We’ll never voice it. We’ll never consider it. We’ll never ask for it. And throwing tantrums will be normal for us.

(Another old out-building)

Somewhere deep inside I seem to think that everyone thinks, wanting two hours of writing is silly and selfish and crazy and stupid and childish and wrong. No self-respecting adult would waste their time wanting such a thing. So I don’t own up to wanting it. Because of that I don’t even know I want it until I throw a tantrum to get it.

Is that what you want? Mairead.

(Detail on out-building near Powerscourt House)

Ok it’s confession time, on Saturday not long before walking into the coffee shop with the helpful server, I was angry. Yep I admit it. Angry. Not very proud of it but it’s my story for today so here it is….. It all started when I though I would have at least two hours of writing that morning but it wasn’t working out that way. Someone had work to do back home, and at most I would have one hour.

(Wild poppies near the out-building)

We parked on Merrion Square, one of my favourite areas in Dublin, but I didn’t see it. I walked off on my own and was fuming as I passed government buildings (very beautiful, normally) and the art gallery (ditto). By the time I arrived at Kilkenny Design I was talking to myself (and not in a mature way…) Something caught my eye in the window. It was an exhibition of Irish craft work.

(Where will we meet?)

I like craft work. There was pottery (I like pottery), leather work (like too), fabric (yum, like, like). I was starting to mellow and my conversation with myself was growing up. It turned out I had never voiced my “want” to spend two hours writing. I didn’t even voice it to myself, I just expected something perfect to happen. And when something perfect didn’t happen…. I turned into an adult version of the terrible twos. Ugly…..

Danger! Don’t neglect to say what you want (to yourself too), Mairead.

(Rasberries and chocolate, yum)

Had a lovely time at another coffee shop on Saturday. KC Peaches is opposite Trinity College in Dublin, where Fred Hanna the bookshop used to be. As you cross the tiled threshold and look down you can still see the original name. The exterior is painted blue, my favourite colour so I was happy just walking in.

(Nice stones)

Then I had a bit of a dilemma…. the choice of salads and breads and fillings and hot foods was unsettling. I wandered back and forth for a good five minutes without gaining clarity. And then the nice server caught my eye. What can I get you today? he asked. I didn’t know, so I said, I want something for lunch but don’t know how it works, followed closely by, do you have any sandwiches?

His little face melted, We do but wouldn’t it be nicer to pick exactly what you want, I’ll help you. And my little face melted too, Ok, that does sound good.

(Old Irish stamps in the old post office in Blackrock, now a Starbucks)

And he helped me. He spread exactly the right amount of butter, on the exact shade of brown, brown bread and the exact number of sun-dried tomatoes with the exact number of bits of bland cheese (I don’t like cheese unless it’s bland…). Then he sent me off to order my tea and to find a place to sit. While I was waiting to give my tea order he followed me over to check the exact lettuce I liked, Rocket please. And did I want my sandwich toasted, Yes, please.

(sigh, blue)

Then he found me and put my tea and my exactly perfect sandwich on my table and off he went. And I ate my perfect sandwich. Two things…. my perfect sandwich isn’t to everyone else’s taste and sometimes we need help to choose what we want.

Thank you nice young man in KC Peaches, Mairead.

(Ceramic Flowers from the market)

You know the way sometimes we don’t ask for what we want? You know we’re kind of shy and maybe we make a little joke. Or, we put on a whiney little voice and say “oh no I’m fine, I don’t want to trouble anyone.” Is it just the Irish or are there people all over the world hoping others will know, magically, what they want?

(Berry patchwork)

A stray cat has started visiting our back door. We’re never in any doubt what he wants. He tells us loud and clear, “Meow, meow, meow.” Ok so he doesn’t actually use any words but he’s very persistent! Our own cat, Fred, indicates to us when he wants to come in –  he knocks on the window with his front two paws until we open up.

(Crystals and pearls)

Maybe it’s just easier for them, maybe they think they’re entitled to the food and the shelter. Maybe they think they deserve it? Would it be easier for us to ask for what we want if we thought we deserved it? You deserve it! I do too!

Meow, meow, meow, Mairead.

(Coffee time at the Technical Museum Berlin)

I’ve been watching Denis make coffee this morning. He’s using a gadget he got at the 3fe coffee shop. Yesterday he assigned his coffee tools their own drawer in the kitchen. The coffee making ceremony begins when he opens that drawer, and the smell of coffee fills the room. Then he assembles the gadget.

(Seats at the zoo)

There are two plastic tubes, one has a rubber seal and fits into the other. The fine ground coffee is measured into the wider tube using the scoop that comes with the gadget. Then the water is added. There is a special stick thing for stirring. Stirring is important. Too much stirring will make the coffee bitter, too little and it won’t mix with the water. After the stirring everything stops for ninety seconds, no more, no less.

(Coffee cake?)

When the ninety seconds are up it’s time to place a circular filter paper on top of the wide tube and screw a plastic filter on top to hold it in place. Then the whole thing is turned upside down onto a coffee cup and pressure is applied to the tube with the seal (by pushing it down into the wider tube). This compresses the air and forces the water through the filter and into the cup. Coffee made.

(Anytime is coffee time)

It’s a very hypnotic thing to watch. Could it be possible to do everything in this measured way, with complete attention on the task?

Smell the coffee, Mairead.