“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.” ~ Elizabeth Kubler Ros
Recognise your hero beauty, Mairead.
(Shadows)
Would you believe, it’s very sunny today? It is! It’s not very hot and there are a few black clouds on the horizon but overhead the skies are blue and the summer shadows are very pretty. I was thinking that it’s only when the sun shines that we see those shadows and then we can choose to sit in a cool shadow or sit in warm sunshine. When the sun is behind the clouds we only have the shadows and it seems like the sunshine is gone for good.
(Shadows)
It reminds me of the Hero’s Journey. How we’re all on a journey (or journeys) throughout our lives. Just like the hero we have to deal with difficulties on the ground, we have to fight battles or maybe even save maidens, but those bits are not the only story. The big story can only be seen from way up high, in the sky-view. Sometimes we get stuck in the ground view and we can’t see the bigger picture, we can’t see our beauty. We can’t see our sun shining behind the clouds.
(Shadows)
When I was a young parent, I was very stuck in the ground view. In the nappies, in the crying, in the doctor’s visits, in the tedium. I thought my life would always be this way, the sunshine gone for good. I rarely saw the beauty of my hero. Whether you are a parent or an aunt, an uncle, a grandmother, a grandfather, a daughter, a son, a niece, a nephew or completely alone in the world, you are a hero and you have a hero role and it’s always there. Whether the sun shines or not, whether you are stuck in the mundane or not, you are always a hero.
Wear your hero hat, Mairead.
(Raindrops…)
We’re back home again and I’m wondering what happened to the sunshine and hight temperatures. Just a few hours east of here the sun is shining and some people are complaining about the heat. They are perspiring from the inside while we are being precipitated on from the outside. At this moment I think it would be great to have sunny weather all the time but I know I’d get fed up with it. I know I’d start complaining. I know I’d start fantasizing about soft rain on my sun-burned face…. Wouldn’t it be so much more useful if I realised that what is here right now isn’t too bad? What is here right now is what someone else (even me on a hot sunny day) wants?
(Ducks like rain)
There’s a quote from Eckart Tolle (The Power of Now), “When you are in a state of gratitude for what is … that is really what being wealthy means”. He’s talking about acceptance, when you are content with what’s right in front of you, you are rich. So I’m going to practice being content with this type of summer….. I’ll start with my thinking: I got a little too much sun in Bletchley Park and this cooler weather is very calming for the burning…. There’s no way I can cut the grass in this rain, I’ll have to do something more relaxing, instead…. Isn’t it great we have no flies buzzing in through every open window? It’s so much easier to go walking in this cool air….
(Isn’t that pretty?)
Feeling richer already! Byron Katie (Loving What Is and http://www.thework.com) has lots of quotes about this, it’s her main theme, but here’s one…“I am a lover of what is, not because I’m a spiritual person, but because it hurts when I argue with reality.” So for today I’m not going to argue with the reality of the weather. The weather is all around me physically and visually, so making friends with it might be enlightening.
Love the soft rain dripping down your face, Mairead.
(The menu)
It’s very early in the morning as I write from our hotel in Swansea. I seem to have jet lag without crossing a time zone, probably the traffic noises, the pillow and the light peeping in around the curtain. We had dinner last night at an American Italian chain called Frankie and Benny’s. There were old black and white pictures all over the walls and on the menu of the original Frankie and Benny, who will be turning in their graves if they ever find out. It was an imitation of an Italian run American diner.
(The deals)
Our server worked hard entertaining us like an American server would and I was bothered when I realised we had no change to tip him. I left some euro. In this country the euro is fake money and next to useless, but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? Except I was thinking, “I have to give him a tip.”
(Hello real hen)
All this reminded me of my hair and the hens (most things remind me of the hens :)) How we humans imitate something (or someone) we think is great when all along there’s something great right under our hat. Sometimes we do the imitation so well we don’t even realise we’re doing it. We straighten our hair, we curl our hair, we comb-over our hair, we dress in a certain way, we act in a certain way, we step into a certain role and we pretend it’s us… We’re fooling no one and anyway the real us might just be a little more attractive.
(Hens get tired too and need to rest a leg)
The hens walk their own funny walk. They hug no one they don’t want to hug. They go to bed when they want to and they ignore all unwanted interaction. I’m on the hunt this morning for a hen-experience! An ordinary real Welsh cafe for my breakfast. One where my table might be a bit sticky to touch, might not be the same colour as all the rest, may even have a wonky leg… but the person serving me is real… and possibly a little cranky. And I’ll be paying attention to what it is I find attractive about that!
Be your own cranky self, Mairead.
(Rusty old railings)
(Rusty old chair)
(Peeling old rusty-red paint)
(Perfect Hands… Granny and grandchild)
I will be giving a talk in Dublin on Tuesday night and one of the sections is about being unique. I was thinking… we’ve heard it all before…. each person is unique. From our finger prints to our retinas to our heartbeats, we’re all different. We even look different. Of course we know this already, it’s normal, ordinary… and so it’s lost. Uniqueness needs to be connected to our everyday life. When I look in the mirror I don’t think about my particular eyes being the only eyes exactly like them on the planet. I’m more interested in what I’m wearing (do my clothes fit in?) How I look? (do I look normal?) Is my hair brushed? (will people think I’m a homeless bum?) Is there lettuce in my teeth? When I look at my hands I don’t notice the intricate patterns that are mine alone.
(Perfect Hands… Aunt and Niece)
We watched a movie the other night about the guy who created the FBI, J. Edgar Hoover. He realised that fingerprints would be a great way to identify law breakers. Before that it was only possible to identify criminals or potential criminals from their photograph and if they were seen in the act of law breaking. But fingerprints are left behind after the person has gone and fingerprints are unique.
(Perfect Hands… artist)
Why would any of us worry about being as good as or as smart as or as pretty as or as successful as anyone else? Do we ever wonder if our fingerprints are “good” fingerprints. Are they smart fingerprints? Are they pretty? Are they successful as fingerprints? Yes, yes, yes, they are perfect fingerprints and only because they are ours. They would not be perfect glued onto anyone else…. they would be counterfeit. Fraud.
(Perfect Hands…. another artist)
So, as I look in the mirror this morning I will be brushing my hair and extracting lettuce but mainly I’ll be looking for what makes me different; what makes me unique; what makes me a perfect specimen of me. And it’s not just the stuff on the outside that’s unique, it’s a combination of everything about me. A combination of all the things I love, all the things I like, all the things I hate, the way I relax, the way I cry, the way I get mad, the stories that inspire me. Every little thing about me bundled all together is unique and is a perfect me.
Seriously, is there lettuce in my teeth? Mairead.
(Vegetables for the lasagna)
As I write it’s nearly time for bed and I’m not so sure I’m going to have something to write about. Today I made a vegetarian lasagna. Today I went to the shop. Today I read the internet (someone has to…) Today I fed the cats. Today I took a picture… of my dinner. Today I talked on the phone. Today I wrote a few texts. Today I read a few emails. Today I searched for a form. Today I ate some sun-dried pesto. Today I was doing nothing else I picked up my phone to read some tweets. Today I watched Nurse Jackie (on Netflix). Today I listened to Denis (someone has to…)
(Scones… should have baked scones today)
Yep nothing here, unless…. Today I provided nourishment. Today I kept the economy turning. Today I became a funnel for some information, electronically. Today I cared for the animals. Today I created something. Today I communicated by wire. Today I connected without wire. Today I took care of business. Today I organised a disorganised sheaf of important papers. Today I gave my body food. Today I found out what some people I don’t know are doing. Today I saw how much more complicated my life could be. Today I was here and available and quiet.
(A potato day)
Ok, not much, but slow days do provide the background for the big, fast, exciting days. Metaphorically speaking they are the rice for the curry or the potatoes for the bacon and cabbage.
I like exciting days but I need slow days too, Mairead.
(Lunch)
Ok we’re in Berlin… on the west side… not that it matters any more. But it used to matter. Back in 1961 they built a wall, the Russians did, all around west Berlin. Yes, the wall wasn’t just along a border between the two sections of Berlin, it went all around. So that the west bit was like a little island of democracy within the Russian territory (the Russians also owned east Germany).
(Checkpoint Charlie… it’s the little hut in the middle of the road… what can I say bad camera day…)
This all started after the second world war. Bits of Berlin were given to America, Britain, France and Russia. Then at some point before 1961 Russia fell out with the others and gave them the cold shoulder.
At the same time the bits that were not Russian were German and they began to rebuild after all the bombing and destruction. But the Russians didn’t have a lot of money to be building. So they patched up.
(If you push your nose up close to the screen and squint your eyes you might be able to see an old Russian Go Workers! mural)
Funny thing….. today that means that the east side (the poor side that didn’t rebuild) has beautiful architecture, while the richer side has architecture from the fifties (concrete and glass… and not in a good way.)
So, having money can be a block (of concrete) to creativity.
Embrace your poverty, Mairead.
Ps Up since four, forgot to pre-charge camera battery so only these photos! More tomorrow.
(A perfect seed ball)
Once upon a time there was a little chick who went in search of adventure. She travelled to the sea shore and found a beautiful turtle shell. She put it on and wore it everyday for months. Everyone she met said how lovely she looked and little chick was delighted with the attention.
(I’m heading for…)
But deep inside little chick was tired and weary and fed-up. The shell was heavy and it was hard to see where she was going so she often bumped into things. One day she decided to take it off….. but as soon as she did she felt naked and put it right back on again. Then she sat down to cry, “now what’ll I do?”
(At the Natural History Museum, a pearl from Galway)
As she was crying an old hen who was passing came over to little chick and asked “What’s wrong little chick?” Little chick explained that she didn’t want to be in a shell anymore, but when she took it off she felt naked. “Oh that’s not a problem, let’s go down to the lake and sort this out.”
(Happy orange juice)
So the two birds waddled down to the lake, said a quick “Hi!” to the other animals and found a quiet spot. Then the old hen said “Ok, little chick, look into the water, what do you see?” Little chick looked in and said, “A beautiful turtle shell.”
“Great, now take off the turtle shell and look into the water again.”
(Sailboats off Greystones… rocks)
“No, no I can’t look, I’m naked.” squeaked the little chick. But the old hen insisted and when the little chick looked into the water she couldn’t believe her eyes. In the water she could see a beautiful yellow fluffy chick, powerful in her chickness! She twisted and turned to see herself from every angle and smiling she asked old hen, “How can this be, I’m beautiful?”
(I have no idea what these are?)
Old hen said “You’ve been wearing that old turtle shell for so long it felt like home but it wasn’t. It was covering up a beautiful you. Just because you feel naked doesn’t mean you are naked! Now, off you go and live the life of a beautiful, proud, powerful, smiling little chick!”
And little chick did just that.
Happy Bank Holiday Monday (Ireland), Mairead.
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