The Lighthouse

June 5, 2023June 4, 2023 | Mairead

And now we’re back in Ireland… probably. As I write we’re still on the ferry so I suppose I don’t know for certain that we are back… but it’s probable. It’s the morning after the calmest crossing we’ve ever had. I slept through the night for the first time and am as bright as a button.

The sun is shining on the seas and we are floating towards the Irish Sea. I’ll go get a photo to show you…

By now you’ll have seen the photos! Hopefully they give some sense of what it was like out there. And the lighthouse! It’s the Tusksr Rock lighthouse. I thought we had three more hours on the ferry. We don’t, we’re in the Irish Sea, we’re nearly home!

Here again is another example of why I need to write to you… you make me go outside and look at what’s there! My friend Linda, yesterday when she realised the forecast was for lots of wind, gently suggested I take my coat and hat on board so I could go outside for a breath of fresh air (=to calm me down, she knows my anxiety.) Of course, what a good idea.

Do I need to tell you – I didn’t bring my coat and hat. There’s no way I’m going outside, I say to myself. But then when I started writing to you and I saw the sun shining on the waves, I thought I’ll just brave the freezing cold for a quick photo!

One photo later I realised it was not cold, it was positively, almost warm. And the breeze wasn’t bitter, it was very pleasant. I took another photo and another and that’s when I saw something in the distance. Another boat? A buoy? A lighthouse? The lighthouse!

And then it was back to driving on the other side of the road… (We have right hand drive, this picture was of a vintage American army jeep from the museum in Saint Mère Èglise)

A lighthouse to protect us from the rocks, from danger. A lighthouse to keep us safe and on the straight and narrow path home. I just met the Stena hostess who gave each of us muffins on our journey over. Do you remember her? She had to move Denis out of the dining room when it closed and she felt bad for moving him while he was working. She brought each of us a muffin to make it up to him at the time.

…where the roadsides are covered in daisies…

It struck me that she’s a kindness lighthouse, a kindness lighthouse reminds us of our naturally loving nature, our vibrant connection to others and our absolute necessity in the world. All of us are lighthouses when we do our own thing. Especially when we do it vulnerably, regardless of reward or shame.

…the coffees are ginormous and the skies are blue

I’ll be taking this home with me… Be you. Do you. Give up the shame. Notice the lighthouses. Sending love to you, lighthouse human xxx Mairéad

Back in Ireland

November 1, 2019November 1, 2019 | Mairead

(Passing gates, grass, hedges and ploughed fields on our way home…)

We did indeed have calm seas with just a bit of waving motion which I don’t like so I went back to bed until it passed.

When we finally arrived at home trick or treat was in full swing. It was pitch dark, children and adults were wandering on and off the paths. Fireworks were exploding and it took a bit of effort to negotiate the reversing of Ruby into her spot. The freezer had defrosted itself while we were away so that needed attention. Everything else was fine.

Now it’s the next morning and time to write a to do list, hug the washing machine and get the groceries. Oh and empty Ruby, we couldn’t face that in the dark last night.

I do have another project in mind and as you know, from past experience, I have to tell you about it in order to do it but I’m not ready yet… instead I’ll write to you in a week and bring you up to date.

For now: Thank you for reading. To those who emailed or texted or commented or bought my book I really, really appreciate the time and effort and expense you expended.

Thank you for joining us as we wandered this autumn around France in Ruby. Mairead and Denis.

(There we are in Greystones)

Christmas Eve, the seagull.

December 24, 2012December 24, 2012 | Mairead

24 12b

(The doubly recycled Christmas Tree from Paris, last year)

It’s Christmas Eve! Just saw a huge seagull flying over our house. Even though we live near the sea they don’t fly over our house very often. I think it means “storms ahead” when they do. Anyway, I was thinking, the seagull doesn’t know it’s Christmas Eve. She doesn’t know today is any different to any other day, except maybe for her internal storm warning…. She’s not worrying about tomorrow’s dinner, about the table decorations, about the perfect gift or the perfectly thoughtful email she forgot to write… She has no worries about the future.

24 12a

(… and a real Christmas Tree)

The seagull flying over our house is called Eve. Well to be exact she’s not flying over our house now, now she’s getting closer to her safe place… and her full name is Christmas Eve but she likes Eve better. She flies off to her safe place whenever she gets the message there’s going to be a storm. Then she stays there until she gets the message the storm is over. At every other time she fishes with her friends off the rocks in Greystones. There’s always enough fish for today so Eve has always been very content to carry on as if there will always be enough fish every day.

24 12d

(Santa Clause getting ready to round-up the little reindeer…)

She has almost arrived at her safe place, it’s miles inland by the side of a lake. Years ago when she was a small seagull she got a message to follow the other, older gulls. She was so young she thought it might be a little holiday and she was very happy to follow them. But it wasn’t a holiday, there were lots of other seagulls jostling for a place near the lake and Eve got shouted at a few times. She couldn’t wait to get back to the rocks by the sea. Nevertheless, after that whenever she got the message there was going to be a storm she flew to the lake.

24 12f

(Candle in the window… Happy Christmas everyone!)

As she got older and bigger Eve didn’t get jostled so much and when she found a spot near the lake no one tried to move her along. Nowadays she’s one of the strongest seagulls by the lake and she sometimes wonders if she really needs to leave the rocks in a storm. Maybe someday she won’t leave but today she’s on her way to the lake heeding the message. What if humans had an internal message system? What if they learned how to hear it?

What if they began listened to it? Mairead.