little things

Happy Days

| Mairead

(A sail boat off Bray beach)

The de-clutter continues and yesterday I was going through the drawers in the sitting room. Three drawers in particular were lovely. At some point they had become the dumping ground for old birthday cards, mother’s day cards and father’s day cards. The drawers were full and had not been tidied for some time so the cards on the bottom were from ten years ago. Among the beautiful purchased cards, were even more beautiful hand made cards.

(Bray Head)

These hand made cards were created using folded pieces of A4 paper, pencil and crayon. They were made by seven, maybe eight year old hands. The spelling isn’t perfect. The planning isn’t exactly right (words disappear off the page or are squashed together near the edge). They don’t stand up on their own. At first glance they aren’t even attractive. But I’m keeping them!

(The Big Wheel, at the Bray Summer Festival)

Because they are real. The real is perfect, it’s just not plastic perfect. So next time something you create doesn’t turn out exactly perfect, celebrate the real perfect in it. You can even put it in a drawer for later.

You’re real perfect, Mairead.

ps if it’s a cake, don’t bother putting it into a drawer, send it on to me.

Learning to Swim

| Mairead

(Ellen, who showed me the Living with Beauty swim)

Our nice visitors are gone. We miss them. We do have a pair of shoes they accidentally left behind but it’s just not the same. So maybe it’s not “the clothes that make the man”, or the woman. These people made a big impact on me.

(Jess who showed me the Integrity swim)

Was it their interesting conversation? Or the presents they brought? Or the meals they cooked? Was it the way one of them kept tidying the house? Or was it the chance to be a tourist in Dublin with them? Although I really do like all those things, I don’t think that was it.

(Dan who showed me the Dead Zoo swim)

We had a goldfish for seventeen years. We had to keep getting bigger and bigger goldfish tanks because he got too big for them. One day he jumped out of his tank and landed flapping on the floor. We only realised what had happened when the dog started barking. When we popped him back in the tank, one of his fins was stuck to his body and he swam around in circles for a while….. it was a square tank. Next day he was back to swimming in squares and we bought a lid for the tank.

(Michele who showed me the Let Go swim)

I think I know.

When people have an impact on us it’s like jumping out of our tank. By the time we get back in we realise they’ve shown us another way to swim. In fact many different ways to swim and we can take our pick.

From a very tidy fish tank, Mairead.

ps A goldfish has a tiny memory, so he could be forgiven for going back to his old ways of swimming……

Cups and Saucers

| Mairead

(My mug)

I have a really pretty mug my mother gave me. I liked it so much she bought me the matching tea pot, milk jug and sugar bowl! As I write I see them sitting pretty on the shelf. So pretty that I never use them…. What’s that all about?

(A bit of the tea pot)

About twenty five years ago we got a china tea set, which I also love. It’s still completely intact, six cups, six saucers, six plates and a cake plate, no chips. I can’t see them at the moment because they’re in the back of a cupboard….

I bought a paper-making kit about four years ago. Every now and then I take it out, but I never use it to make paper. Even as I consider the process of making paper I am feeling good and yet the kit remains intact in the craft cupboard.

(The twenty five year old cups)

So I was wondering… are there beautiful parts of ourselves that we never use? That we never bring out of the cupboard to play with?

Come out of the cupboard, Mairead.

The Piano Tuner

| Mairead

(More beautiful stuff from the Yarn Room)

The piano tuner was here today. As you might expect he was tuning the piano….. His name is Rob and he’s lovely. Although, I can’t always understand what he says, I think he said something profound today! He’s from the USA and he lives in Mayo and it’s not his accent that I find hard to understand. He speaks music. He also plays the saxophone. I suppose I mean everything about him reflects his music. (Not that I’ve ever heard him play music, except for the single notes on the piano as he’s tuning.)

(Going round in circles?)

The profound thing he said today…… “no piano has perfect pitch”. Followed by “playing electronic keyboards can give you a false sense of expectation because they seem to have perfect pitch… they don’t go out of tune”. I liked that! (Now I might need to put in a note of warning, as I’m not naturally musical –  this is what I think he said, ok?)

(Very big pot)

So…. the piano is the real deal, made from wood and string stuff (surely nothing from a cat?) Anyway, time passes and someone invents the keyboard. A plastic copy of the piano. It’s perfect, it’s lighter, it has perfect pitch and it never needs to be tuned. So it’s better than the piano….. or is it? No of course it’s not!  Even the very best, most expensive, up to the minute keyboards don’t feel the same (to the piano player) as an acoustic piano.

(Possibly yellow poppies?)

It’s a bit like us, really.

When we’re not perfect, we’re also not plastic, we’re the real deal!

Plastic is so the 1960’s, Mairead.

Yarn and Patterns

| Mairead

(sigh…)

I love making scones. In fact I’m finding it a little difficult to write because my mouth is watering in anticipation. And since I’m not actually making them, just writing about making them there is nothing to anticipate….. Usually when I think about making scones, I go ahead and make them. So my mouth has learned the pattern and is responding. Pavlov did an experiment with dogs and food and salivating, not that I’m comparing myself to a dog… but it is a similar concept.

(One of the Yarn Room people made these crochet flowers)

I love going to craft shops. I went to The Yarn Room in Ashford yesterday. They sell yarn….. and books and fabric paint and needles and weaving looms and thread and buttons and…. And they give classes and they have a Knit Night every Thursday, where people turn up and knit!  Everyone who works there does crafty things, yesterday Stephanie was following a pattern in one of their books to make a crochet waistcoat in a beautiful multicoloured yarn. When I go there I feel good. I don’t have to try to feel good, my whole body has learned the pattern and is happy to oblige.

(sigh…)

I hate, well, really dislike, cheese. The texture is yucky. The smell is awful. A food that is applauded for going mouldy can’t be good. My nose is wrinkling just imagining it. My stomach is churning a bit too. I didn’t have to move my nose it was way ahead of me and my stomach remembers a night in the 80’s when I thought cheese fondu was a good idea…… it wasn’t.

(sigh, sigh…)

I have lots of patterns set up in my mind and my body, that go back even further than the 1980’s. Some of them limit me and some of them lift me. My job is to notice and choose the ones I want.

Who’s for scones and jam? Mairead.

Awful Arabella

| Mairead

(Maybe it’s time to cut the grass)

Ok, assignment well on the way to being finished… so I’ll take a break to tell you a story. When our children were little I used to love reading to them. I think it was mainly because it involved sitting down! But also, the rhythm of a voice reading (even your own!) is hypnotic and I was probably glad of the effect it had on all of us.

(Nice looking hydrangeas)

One of my favourite books was Awful Arabella by Bill Gillham, illustrated by Margaret Chamberlain (looked this up on Amazon and it brought it all back). I read that book hundred’s of times, no exaggeration. It was very short with two lines and a picture per page, and I still love it. So the story goes, Arabella arrived to stay at the narrator’s home and she was awful. She mis-behaved all day and wouldn’t go to bed and then in the middle of the night she was sick – throwing up type sick. The next day she was much better behaved but in her efforts to be a good girl she made just as big a mess. In spite of all that, when she was leaving the whole family were very sad to see her go.

(Love blue)

The last picture in the book sees Arabella on her own waving from the front gate with a big suitcase in her hand and the family at the front door crying into their handkerchiefs.

(Yellow flowers that come back every year without any effort from me – and they’re not weeds)

Now that I think about it maybe I liked it because of it’s message. I must have been reading it for myself, because it’s a great message for any parent.

No matter how badly you’ve behaved you’re still loveable and forgivable and we’ll miss you when you’re gone!

Missing you already, Mairead.

Stuff Happens

| Mairead

(Dogs create stuff)

I have a deadline on Friday to finish an assignment. But I finished it today!  Yippee! Then I read the instructions…… it was the first time I’d read them. They would have been very useful, because they were very clear and detailed about how the assignment should be written. They bore little resemblance to how I had actually written the assignment… aaahhh!.

(Nice stuff)

So I’ve taken a little break, written a colourful synopsis of how that makes me feel, including expletives and gone to the supermarket to get chocolate biscuits. Tomorrow I will re-read the instructions and begin again.

(Birds produce stuff too)

Sometimes stuff happens. It’s not the stuff that’s important, it’s how we deal with it. I’m not exactly recommending expletives and chocolate, but they do help me.

Dealing with my stuff, Mairead.

Oranges and Sunshine

| Mairead

(Does that look safe to you?)

We’re going to the movies tonight. To the Mermaid Theatre. Every Monday night it turns into a cinema. The movie is called Oranges and Sunshine. I’ve read the book and couldn’t put it down. It’s about a woman who discovered by accident that little children from Britain were sent to Australian orphanages in the 1940’s, after the second world war. Their parents thought their children had been adopted by families in Britain. The children had been told their parents were dead. She found it difficult to get information but little by little she discovered the details were far worse than anyone realised. It’s a true story.

(More patterns)

Just in case you want to see it, I’ll say no more…. Except, the bit that was by accident is very interesting. She was working as a social worker and she had clients who were adopted and had found or were in the process of finding, or beginning the process of finding, their birth parents. She felt they needed a support group, so she set one up. And it hadn’t been running long when a series of events led to her uncovering the story that’s in the movie.

(Liam brought us a very nice cake box and there was cake in it!)

Anyway, what I find interesting is, this woman didn’t plan to do some great big thing. She was doing her own little thing. Not that setting up a support group is little, it was very helpful to the people in the group. But she ended up being helpful to far greater numbers of people. And if she hadn’t done that first thing……

(No pictures please! How do I convince people they really DO want their picture taken?)

So I was thinking…. there’s probably some small thing calling out to all of us. Some little thing that we’d like to do but we haven’t got the time. Or maybe we think it might be selfish to do it. Or it could be considered a bit silly. But what if doing that little thing could accidentally lead us to uncovering an amazing story…. our story? That’s a nice idea.

Just one small thing, Mairead.

Don’t sweat the meatballs!

| Mairead

(Damien and Nat are organising a Flamenco Festival in Dublin 23rd to 31st July www.dublinflamencofestival.com)

The de-clutter is continuing slowly, and today (Sunday) we went to Ikea. Not entirely sensible, because we might have been tempted to buy more clutter. Fortunately we were not tempted… and we came home with only what we went for… drinking glasses. But we were tempted by the restaurant.

(An Ikea glass?)

Well, Denis was tempted by the fifteen meatballs. Yes, exactly fifteen, there’s a choice, you can have ten, fifteen or twenty. He choose fifteen along with potatoes, gravy and some fruit sauce… Watching the woman speedily scoop the meatballs onto his plate, I couldn’t believe she had time to count them. She didn’t. When we sat down and he went off to get a knife and fork, I counted. Only fourteen…. Oh no, we would have to do something… what? Ask for an extra meatball? Would they need to check the cctv footage to make sure we hadn’t eaten it? As I contemplated our position Denis returned. I told him about the problem. He took out his fork to investigate further.

(Blue benches along the pier in Dun Laoghaire)

And he found the missing meatball… along with its friend. He had been given sixteen meatballs! Noooo, now we had a different problem. How would we return the extra meatball? And which one was it anyway? I seemed to be handling this problem on my own and expected some help from Denis. But he hadn’t let me down, he had formulated an inspired plan and had even executed it, while I was panicking.

He ate the extra meatball!

(Orange worms spotted near the pier….)

And it made me wonder…. is it possible that we sometimes make a mountain out of a meatball? Maybe it’s just a meatball? What if all our problems were just meatballs?

It’s just a meatball, Mairead.