You and your adorable paperclip

January 2, 2024January 4, 2024 | Mairead

Adorable little paperclip from Loft in Nagoya

It’s the morning after the moving earth experience of yesterday and I was going to tell you about our trip on the bullet train but I woke up thinking about something different. I’ll tell you about the bullet train later.

Last week I was speaking to a friend. We chat every Christmas because one day years ago I was brave enough to share something I made with her. It was a fabric Christmas decoration. It might sound odd to need to be brave to share something you’ve made. I definitely think it’s odd to find something so human to be excruciatingly difficult. But it is for me. Back then I must have seen something in her that told me she was a safe place, so I shared.

No bicycles on the footpath. The Japanese love to ride their bicycles on the footpaths.

Anyway, we spoke the week before this trip to Japan and she said something that a few other people have said to me, and that was: you’re right to go travelling when your can because it’s something you’ll never regret when you no longer can. I think I “get” her words today. For me the long travelling we have done since 2008 on the motorbike and in the motorhome and now this trip to Japan have seemed luxurious and decedent. A bit too special for me. I love the experience but I’m embarrassed I get to do it. I’m embarrassed to share my luck. I write about it in this blog because writing helps me to understand all my confused thoughts and feelings. Plus, it feels like I’m writing to one person. You. I trust that you are a safe person.

This poster is on most of the trains… Please be careful not to let your belongings bother other passengers. Please set your phone to silent mode and refrain from talking on the phone. Please be considerate of others around you when eating and drinking on the train.

But today I woke up thinking that my being anything other than excited and grateful for what I get to do, is a preposterous (I’ve been reading Sherlock Holmes) way to live… or die. Imagine – and not in a scary way, please – we could each die at any moment but right now in this moment we are alive and (if we are lucky) we can move and talk and laugh and we can make choices. Choices about how to live in this tiny moment. Choices about how to share this little bit of humanity we bring to the world. I want to call it something like essence but Shiori brought me to a stationery shop today (the Japanese know how to do stationery, it’s just unfortunate we may not have enough room to being it all back) and I got adorable little paper clips… Our little bit of humanity is an adorable paperclip holding all our unique experiences, our lovely thoughts – only the lovely ones, all our ideas, all our dreams for the future and… some more nice things.

Our paper clip came with us when we were born. Some of us have been hiding it successfully ever since. But before we started hiding we were sharing our paper clip like crazy with everyone around. Imagine if you could go back to that innocent time… Sharing a smile with the man at the combini (name for small supermarket here) even though you cannot speak his language, you cannot even speak! Sharing a babbling story of your day with your baby friend at the crèche even if he seems bored. Sharing a trip with a group of strangers on the bus even if they seem odd to you. Sharing your banana experience with the other babies even if they are all much better at eating banana than you. Sharing silence with your Mammy as she holds your bottle of water even though you’re well able to hold it yourself. Sharing your joy at making a three brick tower even when it falls down.

The train was completely empty when we took it on New Year’s Eve… and yet they provided trains

When we arrived we were much better at sharing our paper clip of experiences with the others living and dying beside us on this planet. We were smarter then.

When you’re ready to order you press this button and a loud bell goes off in the restaurant to summon the waiter. This made me very uncomfortable… but hunger cured that!

Ok I promised the bullet train experience but first… I do not know how we are going to survive when we get home without heated toilet seats. Oh I can imagine what you are thinking, what a silly fad, I thought so too but have I once turned off the heat? No, I have not and now I might be a little addicted. “Oh look there’s a toilet I haven’t been to!” The automatic flushing. The noise of water flowing – now I’m not sure whether that’s to encourage flow or maintain privacy and sure it doesn’t matter. I feel there’s no need to go into details about the other features, suffice to say I feel as fresh as a daisy when I leave the cubicle. Oh I nearly forgot about the odour – none. You couldn’t make this up, I have no idea where it goes, it’s just gone. And it’s not just in the airport or hotels these toilets are everywhere.

Here are the buttons you will need during your trip to the toilet…

I promised I’d tell you about the bullet train… We got to the Shinkansen terminal in plenty of time on Monday. We had our tickets. We found our platform (there’s lots of bullet trains on lots of platforms) we even found our gate (there’s two gates for each carriage, one for the seats in the front and the other for seats in the rear. The time said 12.05pm and we were queuing at our gate at 11.57am. Perfect timing, go us! The train stopped, the gate opened, the doors opened, we filed on and found our seats – all seats are reserved. But there was a bag in my seat by the window. We checked our tickets again. Yes we had the right seats. Now what? A Japanese woman approached with more bags and squeezed past us to sit on my seat. I caught Denis’ eye, he said “excuse me” (he had lost the toss in the eye game) “I think these are our seats” while shoving our tickets towards her in a not very bowing way. She looked and looked again and then said, “another train” Denis understood first… We are too early! This isn’t my seat! This isn’t even our train! We have to get off! Now!

There’s a guard at every gate and there are two gates per carriage. Can you see his gloves?

A very awkward race towards the door later and we were back on the platform. The train pulled off. If your ticket says 12.05pm that means 11.57 is too early. These huge long trains get into the station, disembark their passengers, load more passengers and get out of the station within 3 minutes! They are never late (can that be really true?) We had less than 30 seconds to spare. But we were wiser. There’s a train number on the tickets and the overhead screens show the number of the train now standing at your gate. We get on the next train. And there was no one sitting in our seats.

Can you see the number 18? That’s the number of the train we should have got on…

It’s 176km from Osaka to Nagoya. It would take 2 hours and 30 minutes to drive but the Shinkansen took 50 minutes – plenty of time to try out the toilets but our earlier confusion made me wary of leaving my seat so I’ll try it out on the way back. It travels at speeds up to 320km per hour. It has to slow down to let people on and off, unfortunately, I think that’s why it took so long…

We settled down to admire the countryside and the bento boxes (cute take away lunch boxes you can buy at the station and elsewhere) of the other passengers. At one point I saw someone taking a picture out the window at a snow covered mountain in the distance. Denis said, “that’s Mount Fuji”, the most loved mountain in Japan. I said, “how do you know?” He said “google it.” I googled, “can you see Mount Fuji from the bullet train between Osaka and Nagoya?” You can. Lucky guess. I had thought we wouldn’t get a chance to see it on this trip to Japan but there it was, out the window on the other side of the train looking exactly like it does on the telly.

We stood up in plenty of time to exit the train at Nagoya (once bitten) and found our way through the station to the metro. It did seem there was less English translations here but we’re seasoned Japan rail travellers now… Fingers crossed.

Our neighbour’s bento box. See all the leg room?

In case you need to hear this today: Share your stories* even if you think they’re boring or just about toilets or mistakes because right now there are people out there missing something… a moment with you. xxx

*Or your art, or your ideas or whatever your adorable paperclip holds

The Tunnel of (Self) Love

April 15, 2022April 13, 2022 | Mairead

Cobblestones beside one of the old railway buildings

Yesterday we arrived in the town of Béjar, about 200km west of Madrid. We have never been here before and that’s always exciting. We had set off early, too early for breakfast so I cooked my favourite – porridge, while Denis went for a walk. We always use other people’s reviews to choose a park-up and the reviews for Béjar were very good. One of them mentioned the greenway, called the Camino Natural Béjar that runs alongside. It used to be a railway line which makes it flat and great for walking. But like all railways lines running through the mountains it has a tunnel. One reviewer suggested that although it was long it was well worth the effort to go through it to see the old town. Oh, not sure about that.

We have been travelling for 13 days now and because we’ve started to slow down it feels like the perfect time to soak up the inspiration that comes from visiting these new, strange, unknown places. A train tunnel could be exactly the strange place I need, if… I wasn’t the most careful, risk-adverse person I know. Hmmm. Or maybe it’s just perfect? Anyways, by the time Denis came back I was actually looking forward to going through the tunnel. And he was able to report that it was grand, it was lighted and he had gone all the way through and back and was happy to go with me if I was concerned about going on my own. But I wasn’t, how hard could it be?

It was awful! You can’t see the end from the beginning, it’s very long. Oh (expletive, expletive, expletive) it was bad.

No, now that I’m writing about it I realise the tunnel was just a tunnel, it was not awful, it was just a tunnel. The thing that was awful was how I felt. I felt very awful. I am searching for better words to describe the feeling. I have a thesaurus on my computer but its not helping translate a feeling into a word. Very unpleasant isn’t bad enough but disgusting is completely wrong. I went about five steps into the tunnel and could go no further. I had to get out.

What’s funny (not funny) is I didn’t understand the problem until I was standing about three feet inside the tunnel. Beforehand, in the van I had thought I would be worried about being attacked by another human. So I had a little talk with myself, “you’d be very, very unlucky to get attacked today, first day in a tunnel, first day in Béjar, you’ll be grand, you can do this.” Of course I know what you’re thinking – this could be untrue, but it was enough to convince me I’d be grand and probably not get attacked. So that when I got to the tunnel I was not afraid of being attacked. The fear of being attacked is my mind-fear, my mind-fear had been reassured, however foolishly. No, the big problem standing inside the tunnel was no longer my mind-fear, the problem was my body-fear, the fear that took over my body. There should be a big word for that. Terror? Yes. Terror is a good word.

Generally speaking my mind-fear keeps me very safe. If my mind-fear rises I don’t reassure it enough to go towards the fearful thing… why would I? But here on this journey I make myself go towards the fearful thing because of Reverence on Deck 9. Do you remember? That’s where I made a decision to learn from everything, and that includes this tunnel. I promised to meet every difficult moment with self compassion and silence. So I turned around and left the tunnel. Were you expecting that? Do you think I should have kept going?

There’s the van from up on the town walls across the valley

And then something I had missed rushing towards the difficult thing was a signpost pointing up. And there it was, a steep but gloriously outdoor path to Béjar. I took the path most travelled. Yes, I was not a brave tunnel traveller but I was something else. I was compassionate to myself. This is what self compassion does – it accepts what is true for you now and it doesn’t attack your truth no matter how stupid or childish it seems. I’m going to the mouth of the tunnel again today (even writing that makes my stomach clench) but what’s different is Denis is coming too and I’ll take his help and maybe today is the day. And maybe it’s not…

Collage of building materials and a smiling statue

The town was scrumptious, by the way. Ok again, not the right word but I need a word that invokes consuming… but with the eyes. What is that word?

I’m not a complete idiot…probably

August 10, 2021August 9, 2021 | Mairead

Saw this in Portumna, Co. Galway. For some reason it makes me think of social media…

Well I’ve never been more grateful that I write a blog… well I haven’t actually written a blog post since March but I’m still grateful I wrote a post in March. Let me explain… it’s been 5 months since I wrote to you and a lot has happened.

The website (https://permission.cards) has changed utterly. The cards are different. And I think it’s possible I’m different too…for one thing I’m making videos. Yes, I don’t know what inner voices I shut down to do that but I shut them down. And now I’m talking to camera like it’s ok, like I’m not a complete idiot, like I’m even comfortable exposing myself (fully clothed at all times.) And I am comfortable. Mainly.

I’m comfortable until I wake up with a thought in my head that I’m a fraud or too old or ugly or a failure. Those days are hard because it’s kinda natural to want to hide away on Bad Thoughts Days. And sometimes I do hide. Do you have this experience where you start the day with those thoughts and you go into social media and every post you see confirms your thoughts? I have. So on the really bad bad thoughts days I can’t go into social media and I can’t post anything. And posting on social media is kinda my whole marketing strategy (that’s a blog all to itself!)

Muddy track near Shannonbridge Co. Offaly

Funnily enough though, this routine of posting to social media makes me notice those bad thought days in a way I never noticed before. In the midst of a Bad Thoughts Day I think every day is a Bad Thoughts Day. I completely forget that yesterday wasn’t. I think “this is going to go on forever” and sometimes I believe that thought longer than I need to.

Having to post everyday makes me realise Bad Thoughs Days are not everyday. My posts show me that I must have been grand on lots of days because I have lots of posts.

And why am I’m grateful I write blog posts (even inconsistently..)? Because when you’re in the middle of change you don’t notice it and you don’t think anything is happening. And maybe it’s time to start having Good Thoughts Days… what do you think? Wishing you good thoughts about yourself ❤️ Mairéad.

Slow Down Packs

March 4, 2021March 3, 2021 | Mairead

So… the website Permission.Cards is live. I can tick that off the must do list and move it to the must improve list. I’m not great at focusing on one thing at a time so it might seem logical to believe that I would jump from one thing to the next easily. And I do. And in case you didn’t know, it doesn’t work very well. I get less done. I’ve had to teach myself to focus on one thing until I have gone as far as I can go with it and then move to the next thing and focus only on that until it’s time to stop and move on to the next thing. I’ve been working on this strategy for years but it is only in this last strange year that I have made progress. And again the cards are helping me.

The Permission to slow down one has been huge for me. I’m not sure what the rush was? For example I’ve been doing the bookkeeping for Denis for the last 13 years. For the first 12 years I hated it. Then last year somehow I realised there was no rush. I could slow down and do it right. Seems like common sense. But it was news to me. When there was a mistake in the past I was stressed and panicked! How was I going to solve this and what if I didn’t get everything finished in time?

We saw this on a beach at Skreen, Co. Sligo last August.

When I slowed down I could see there are always mistakes, I’m always making mistakes and so is everyone else (whether they realise it or not) it’s only human. But when I started slowing down I made less mistakes and my understanding of the process improved.

That’s one of the reasons I wanted to make a Slow Down pack. The other reason is I have a lot of friends and family who are run off their feet busy. I would love to know if intentionally slowing down is possible or even helpful for people who have a lot on their plates and live a very busy life. Or would it just put extra pressure on them?

What’s your thoughts? Mairead

Permission.Cards

There’s a website!

February 25, 2021 | Mairead

I didn’t expect to be back to you so soon with this news – Denis made the website! For the Permission Cards. Click here to visit! If you have any ideas about what I should do to make it better let me know. For instance, I changed postage because there were so many options and was struggling to make it clear. Now postage is included in the price. And then there’s customs – can anyone explain that in one sentence? And Brexit, does that add another dimension?

I’ve decided to journal my journey here on the blog because I’m learning a lot and I’d really like to share that with you and get your input. Also, I don’t want to forget what I’ve learned or to forget that it takes a long time and what confuses or frustrates me today will be forgotten next month. Generally I’m not excited to learn new things and that’s not good for a human who wants to live to be 105 (at least!) I get very frustrated when I don’t understanding something. Not helpful. But that’s changing and the cards are helping. I have two sitting in front of me now.

They are, Permission to make mistakes and Permission to take baby steps. Babies don’t get frustrated when they’re learning to walk. They don’t get upset about mistakes. They just get on with it, no self judgement. This baby-step-accept-mistakes-as-normal process is slow but you still get the learning done, it lasts and you’re not in danger of being overwhelmed.

Being overwhelmed is not helpful. Taking baby steps is, Mairead.

Permission Cards

February 3, 2021December 5, 2021 | Mairead

Edited 5th December 2021… If you landed here looking for Permission Cards, this is a blog post from the time I was making the prototypes for the actual cards you can find at https://permission.cards. Have a grand day♥️

Well… it looks like we won’t be travelling anywhere soon. I thought that would upset me more than it does. But it doesn’t, I am very happy pottering away inside my home with the odd excursion to collect groceries. (An experience exciting for all the senses and not as insignificant as I used to think. But I’m getting sidetracked.) Instead of travelling to other countries or even counties, we walk around the neighbourhood – separately, he walks too fast, I talk too much… We also work separately, he has a very organized workspace, I’m a bit messy. Other than that we are together every single moment, eating, watching stories on the big (enough) screen, sleeping and arguing. Yes we do argue. But as we only have each other we can’t be bothered keeping an argument going, it turns out life’s too short. Denis taught me that, I used to love keeping an argument going. I’m right, how can I stop before he understands that? Turns out everyone thinks they’re right – understanding is overrated.

I’m working on a new creative project. It all started pre-2020 when Denis was putting a board game in the recycling bin. (Remind me to tell you the name of the board game.) To be clear that doesn’t happen, ever, but this was a unique board game. It was designed to be used for one long game over the period of a year and then not reused… Seeing the cards in the recycle bin made me sad. I love paper and card and these were still fully functioning pieces of card, how could anyone throw them out? Maybe I could save them. I did. I already have lots of saved paper and card and at that time I had no organisation, just one big box. In the cards went, never to be seen again… until 2020.

My 2020 started with a lot of excitement (our son got engaged!) followed by a lot of fear (no explanations necessary) followed by a lot of gardening (thank you, Eilish!) followed by a lot of card making. I made cards to remind myself I could say, NO. I made thank you cards, to remind me that the small things are actually big things. Small things like getting groceries and garden supplies were very, very big things. Small things like getting post in the post box, were very, very big things. Small things like receiving offers of help were enormously big things. And then there’s the overwhelmingly big things like front line staff and especially for my family, the nursing home staff who have been going above and beyond to take care of the most vulnerable, including my mother. I had a lot to be thankful for so I made a lot of thank you cards.

It felt like I was reorganising my inner space and so naturally I started to reorganise my outer space too. And that turned out to be very freeing. I dumped loads and gained empty space and found the cards and paper I had been saving. What had I been saving it for? I didn’t know at the time but it turns out I was saving it for now. In amongst all the paper was Denis’ board game cards, looking just as lovely as they had when I first met them. I gave them their own place on a shelf. In November we (the cards and I) started working together. I worked on them and they worked on me.

The Permission Cards began when I was chatting with a friend and she said something mean to herself and it just popped out of my mouth, how about if you give yourself permission to be kind to yourself for the rest of the day? Then I promised to make her a permission card to remind her and we went on to talk about something else. I’ve been hard on myself my entire adult life, it’s a habit that I don’t hear but as soon as I hear someone else being hard on themselves, I notice. I needed this Permission to be kind to myself, too.

Later that day I took one of the recycled cards off the shelf and made a permission card for my friend… and it was for me too. As I made it I read it. Over and over again. I was reading that I had permission to be kind. To myself. My first thought was, “…that’s a bit selfish isn’t it?!” My second thought was, “who said that?” Something I’d heard long ago made sense: We are not our thoughts. Some thoughts are part of a flawed belief system and it’s not always possible to spot them before obeying them. So in this case, I thought that being kind to myself was a bad thing. What if it wasn’t a bad thing? What if it was okay to be kind to myself. Maybe even for the whole day? It’s a big ask so I’m taking baby steps.

With every card I make I am being kinder to myself. Even when I make mistakes! And I’m creating even when it’s ugly. I’m ignoring what does not serve me. I’m making the right decisions for me… on and on these little cards are working on me.

And now I’m selling them! Denis has promised to set up a sales website when he’s less busy (I recognise potential for a future argument here but life’s too short, right?) In the meantime it’s just via email (mairead@hennessynet.com) and instagram (@creativecalm_cards). Get in contact if you want to see the full list of Permissions and I’ll send you an order form and prices. They are handmade so they take a long time to make but fortunately the cards give me permission to take my time – so all good.

Tiny Handmade Permission Cards made from recycled playing cards

Oh and the name of board game? Pandemic. Yup, that’s what it was called. Twilight Zone stuff. Mairead.

Ps He set up the website, it’s called Permission.Cards Tap or maybe Click to have a look!

Just in time…

April 24, 2018April 24, 2018 | Mairead

2018 1

(Ruby being winched backwards into van hospital)

I’m exhausted. It’s 6am and I’ve been awake for an hour… Denis is snoring loudly this night/morning! I feel a huge fraud saying I’m exhausted when here I am here in a beautiful place with everything working out for my good and I am complaining. Two of my friends have just completed big projects, one had a third of her team missing and the other has a Mum who is very ill. I’m sure they are exhausted. My own mother is in pain and miserable with an ongoing physical complaint. I’m sure she’s exhausted. And you, you have challenges that no one knows about and you bear them yourself. Are you are exhausted? One person’s challenge is someone else’s dream day. This is just my story but maybe any story can be a symbol of every story. It’s a long story so I’ll go back to the beginning or even before the beginning…

2018 2

(Very organised garage)

Less than a week ago I wrote “Something I really love about the motorhome is the flexibility. If your plan doesn’t work out it’s not the end of the world. Another plan is always possible. I’m not naturally optimistic, I have to work at it. Sometimes I am more comfortable thinking about what bad thing could happen so that I can work out in advance what I will do about it. Ruby and this was of living is helping me practice and I actually love optimism. Google it, I think you’ll love it too!”

2018 4

(The boss mechanic won all these trophies playing five-a-aside in the 80’s)

Well you know what they say : be careful what you wish for… I had googled optimism at the time and loved that it said, “…hopefulness and confidence about the future…” I have always loved the word hope. It gets a bad press because it’s related to being attached too rigidly to a specific desired outcome. Maybe I am too attached to a happy ending but I think I love hope because when the ending comes I understand I will (eventually) find the happy in it. In the meantime hope keeps me going. So my definition of optimism is: finding the happy in difficult situations.

(Ruby is still in surgery…)

And then we are stuck on a small street in a small town and I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I get through the day finding plenty of happy but don’t sleep that night. My mind is racing… How will me manage until Monday? How will we get water? What if we can’t get internet? What if they can’t work on the problem on Monday? What if the police come to move us on or arrest us? How will we contact the mechanic? If they don’t come how will we push the van around the corner and down a narrow street with cars parked on either side? Will it fit into the doorway? If it does fit where will we stay? How will we get around without transport? How much will this cost? How do I empty the black water cassette so that the mechanic isn’t overpowered by ammonia fumes if this takes longer than a few days? How do we communicate with the mechanic? On and on and on… Answering my mind’s questions is exhausting.

2018 1 1

(There’s a river just up the road from the garage)

There was something else pushing it’s way quietly into my mind as I tried to find answers. Big Picture. Think about the BIG picture. The big picture has none of the little details that my mind was concentrating on. The big picture requires me to stand way, way back to look at the situation. The big picture is like a landscape photograph with green trees and flowing water. there’s me sitting quietly by the water writing, there are birds in the trees and they definitely look like they are singing. I am safe. I am warm. I am still. My mind is quiet. The answers come in the perfect time.

2018 5

(Lemon blossom and…)

Even though I like the big picture and how it makes me feel I still resist it. I want to answer all the questions. I have to answer all the questions or bad stuff will happen. The thing is, there is no way to answer the questions… until the precise moment an answer is required. For example, the question, how will I empty the black water cassette? got answered when I woke on Monday morning at 7am. The answer was clear, walk to the public toilets rolling the cassette behind you, there will be less people on the streets to see or smell you. I have no idea how many people saw me (or smelt me) doing that walk of shame because I was concentrating on the ground and even if there were people judging me, it was not a shameful thing… actually you could call it heroic – I saved the mechanic from ammonia poisoning. My point, it was the perfect answer and it arrived just in time, no sooner.

2018 7

(…lemon blossom bud)

And just in time is a recurring theme… Just at the precise time we needed to communicate with the mechanic a dutch couple who live in the town and speak Portuguese arrived to collect their car. They translated and offered further translation by phone. Other questions didn’t need answers because they didn’t arise… we had just enough water. There was just enough clearance to get into and manoeuvre in the garage (remember the skill of the Portuguese drivers? well this Portuguese mechanic could manoeuvre with centimetres to spare while outside the van pushing it!) Just in time we found a place to stay with wifi and within walking distance of the garage, so we didn’t need our own internet or transport.

We still don’t know when Ruby will be fixed but it’s probably going to be just in time… Mairead.

Thanks Mam, for Picking my Dad

March 25, 2018 | Mairead

2018 2

(Our bridge at Alcacer do Sal in the afternoon…)

It’s my Dad’s birthday today. He died on this day 16 yeas ago, but he’s alive in everything I do. For instance this week he was at the Creativity Workshop with me (again, nothing weird going on here…) From the moment it was time to lay down on the floor for the first exercise, he was getting involved.

2018 3

(…at sunset)

The exercise was so relaxing, we were to think about our grandmother, didn’t matter which one or even if it was our real grandmother. Then we went off to visit her under the sea (note: no, I did not get into a body of water) because it turned out I could breathe under water (note: no). I was considering my maternal grandmother, getting settled into meeting her again, but no my Dad says, look it’s my mother! So I met my paternal grandmother under the sea. She was delighted to see me. She wanted to hear my stories. She gave me a green pebble with swirling designs on it and sent me back to fight a dragon. As you do.

2018 4

(…at night)

I suppose it’s my own fault. We had to bring something from childhood with us to the workshop. In my group the other two people, Jodie and Mitch (waves) brought pictures of their well-loved teddy and rabbit from babyhood. Pictures, because they were travelling by plane and their toy was so precious that plane travel was too dangerous. That’s precious. I couldn’t think what to bring, I didn’t have a childhood toy. So I brought a picture of my Dad and me when I was nearly two, I’m standing on his hand. So I brought my Dad to the workshop.

2018 5

(My dad and me doing our party trick!)

I’ve known about my acrobatic gift for a long time and I’ve seen the photo many times in the last 50+ years. I’m almost up to the ceiling and I’m as cool as a cucumber. I have the cutest shoes and the worst type of check kilt. I’m adorable, can hardly keep my eyes off myself. It’s only when I shared it with Jodie and Mitch and they point out my Dad’s face that I see how he looks at me. He can’t take his eyes off me and he looks so happy.

Imagine our lives if we knew we inspired that reaction just by being ourselves. Mairead.

Broken Shells Calling

March 16, 2017March 15, 2017 | Mairead

(Friday evening in Furadouro)

I mentioned yesterday that I loved the town of Furadouro and one of the reasons was the beach. Not the sand but the shells. Not the perfectly pretty and complete shells. The broken ones. I had started noticing broken shells on the beach at Vila Chã, I thought they were interesting but not as interesting as the terracotta coloured stones. Then at Lavos Praia there were no terracotta stones but loads and loads of little broken shells.

(A mix of broken shells and pebbles)

They weren’t everywhere, they seemed to be washed up in a line parallel to the tide line… a broken shell line, but there were so many I couldn’t but notice them. I started picking them up and once I started it was hard to stop, it was like they were calling me. Why would they be calling me?

(Some of the bigger shells I saved!)

The ones in Furadouro were bigger, the chipping away had only begun, but in time (unless I saved them?) they would be tiny little broken bits. I wonder if shells start off perfectly pretty and complete somewhere up north and they get little pieces chipped off as they travel south, until they are so small they look like sand. I saved a bag full from Furadouro. I think I know why they were calling me…

(and more…)

When I picked up the first broken shell I was surprised it was so smooth at the broken edge. It was like it had been sanded with sandpaper. Of course it had been sanded with the original sandpaper… sand. That’s why I kept picking them up. They were lovely to hold and to run my finger along the smooth edge. And they reminded me of buttons. I love buttons. But it wasn’t just their button-like feel, I also recognised a human-like feel.

(…more.)

We start off perfectly pretty and complete and then bits get chipped off and we’re broken. We feel broken. We chip off others. We break others. Everyone we know is broken in some way. But these shells were asking me… Can’t you see how different we are? How very interesting we are? How we are so, so beautiful in our brokenness? I’m bringing a bag of broken beautiful shells home, please let me know if you’d like one to remind you that you are beautiful.

Step 12. Believe it, you are so, so beautiful, Mairead.

Travel stories

perfect as you are