There’s a champion of button makers in Merrion Square

November 21, 2013November 20, 2013 | Mairead

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(This is where my champion lives… the sign is ceramic… a sign?)

We went to Dublin on Saturday and parked in Merrion Square which is beautiful at this time of year and on a Saturday there’s usually a few parking spaces. Last Saturday there were loads of parking places when we arrived. They have new parking meters that only work with credit cards and in fact don’t work very well. There was a queue of people trying, unsuccessfully to purchase tickets so we joined the queue. Surprisingly the queue was very upbeat, probably a bit of a siege mentality, everyone working together against the common enemy. We were all throwing in our tuppence worth of advice and slowly the queue shortened.

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(Detailed drawings…. kinda)

While I was waiting I noticed the meter was right outside the offices of the Craft Council of Ireland. Their website says they are “the main champion of the craft industry in Ireland, fostering its growth and commercial strength, communicating its unique identity and stimulating quality design, innovation and competitiveness.” Well, I thought, wasn’t that synchronicity, here’s me working away on my bag of clay and here’s the offices of my champion. The right place at the right time. I think I’m okay for a champion at the moment but if I do need one…

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(Potential Bunting)

So to keep you up to date with that bag of clay, it’s slow, but it’s best if we don’t dwell on that part. The best part is working with the clay. As I was saying I started with a few buttons. There’s a few days work in any endeavour with clay no matter how little I produce. First the clay needs to be in workable form and I’m finding it too wet to work with when it comes out of the bag so on day 1 I rolled out a handful between two sheets of cling film and watched it dry… On day 2 it probably needed to dry some more but I wanted to start so I used my square cutter and cut some potential buttons… yum!

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(Buttons with maximum added holes. Slip is like glue for clay, thanks Dei for the recipe!)

On day 3 I was too busy 😦 to do anything so covered the clay with the cling film and a damp cloth. One of the absolutely amazing things about clay is it will wait for you… I mean it will stop drying. Ok not necessarily always or at every point in the damp to dry continuum but enough for me to be excited. And the reason I need it to stop drying is that there will be a point where it is too dry to work with 😦 and in order to make a potential button into an actual button I have to add some holes. Adding holes to a dry square of clay causes the potential button to loose it’s potential and turn into a broken mess. The perfect point of dryness that I’m waiting for is called leather-hard. So now we’re up to day 4 but I forgot to take off the cling film… so…

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(Cute little apron)

At this point, to cut a very long and detailed story short, I have some buttons, some bunting triangles and the cutest little apron. All these are experiments as I wonder where to go next, but something unexpected has happened. You might remember I don’t like this stage where I don’t know where I’m going next? Well, yesterday as I was rushing out to an appointment, leaving my clay behind I realised that if I was lucky enough to be able to do stuff with clay everyday for the rest of my life that would be as perfect a life as I could imagine.

Of course I forgot later when I was rushing back to make dinner but I remember again now, Mairead.

Dear Sebastian

November 18, 2013November 17, 2013 | Mairead

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(Up close with a rose)

I was down in the charity shop last week and I bought a few books including some hardbacks for the Kickstart your Creativity course. We use them as Life Journals and glue in attractive bits of paper. One of the books I bought is called Dear Sebastian. I was lured in by the cute picture on the front cover of a smiling boy and his Dad on a beach and that made me start reading and now I won’t be doing any sticking… Once I can get past the crying I’ll be keeping it for the quotes and inspiration.

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(Playing with the colours)

It’s a true story about a man who was diagnosed with cancer while on a business trip to Australia (I know!) That was in March 2008 and he died in June 2008. He had a nine-year old son, called Sebastian and his main concern in those three months was for his son and also for his mother (he was divorced from his wife.) So he decided he wanted to write his son a letter leaving him with a message. He also wanted to ask other people to do the same and compile it all in a book.

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(More roses)

Unfortunately, he didn’t get a chance to write his letter (I was ugly crying at that point) and he had only contacted a few people. But he had asked his mother, early on, to promise that she would complete his project if he didn’t get a chance. In spite of her grief she did. Lots of famous Irish people wrote letters to Sebastian and they are all in the book.

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(Although this look like sweets, it’s a flower)

I’m just a quarter way through (it’s taking a long time because I have to blow my nose so much…) but already there’s been some lovely letters. Including sincere ones from some politicians… It makes me think there’s power in writing stuff down. Stuff like memories, thoughts, feelings, messages, encouragement for others, gratitude. Whether it’s to let it go or pass it on writing can be really useful.

Go on, write it down, Mairead.

Jellies in the Clay

November 15, 2013November 14, 2013 | Mairead

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(Even more pictures from Powerscourt)

I ordered some clay last week. I want to start making ceramics again. Not sure what yet, but I am sure I want to use porcelain. So I went to the most popular website and looked up porcelain paper clay. It has paper in with the clay and I really liked the result I got with it. There were a few different porcelain clays so I took a guess and picked one. The delivery details said it would take two days to arrive. I waited patiently. Actually, I waited impatiently.

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(One green leaf among the brown)

It arrived on Tuesday, while I was walking in the leaves at Powerscourt. A big box was sitting on the kitchen table when I returned, it was waiting patiently for me. Our big scissors is in the small cutlery drawer in the kitchen and it would have been the best to use but this was a special moment – my first bag of clay. I have a favourite small black crafting scissors so I used that instead. The box was very securely fastened but eventually my scissors and I found a way inside. My clay had been laid on a bed of shredded cardboard and beside it lay a tiny bag of jellies.

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(Nice shadows)

I took out the bag of clay and enjoyed remembering how very heavy clay is. Then I slowly undid the metal closure and peeped inside. If I had picked the right clay, the clay I wanted to work with, it would be cream coloured. It was. I’m still not completely sure what I want to make so I started with my old friends – buttons. I took out my tin of tools and promptly stuck my thumb with the point of my knife. It might take some time to remember all I’ve forgotten, the feel of the tools, the smell of the clay, the many ways to manipulate this ancient material.

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(I had a great title for this until Pam told me it was a rook, not a crow. Rooks feet?)

So now what? This is the stage of creating that I don’t usually like, where I don’t know what comes next. I’ve been here before and it all worked out fine so I need to trust that it will this time too. I’m going to go slow and take baby steps to the next stage.

In the meantime, I’ll play with the clay and eat the jellies, Mairead.

My (not so) Big Secret

November 14, 2013November 13, 2013 | Mairead

I think I might be suffering from an addiction. Don’t tell anyone. I want to keep this a secret just between us. Ok? You have to promise before reading more…..

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(Photos from Powerscourt, Enniskerry, Co. Wicklow)

So if you’re still reading you have agreed to keep my secret, right? Or are you still reading because you are curious and you will decide later whether or not to keep my secret? Or do you never keep secrets? Well in spite of your silence I’m going to trust that you’ll know best whether or not to keep my secret… since I’ve been foolish enough to tell you….

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(The old fence between the avenue and the golf course)

I am addicted to picking up autumn leaves. There, I’ve said it. I walk around with my head down searching for the perfect examples, then I stop short, drop to the ground and pick them up. I even do this when I’m on a walk with someone else. They’re happily chatting and walking and I’m on the ground picking leaves. I may have missed a few interesting topics of conversation doing this.

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(Seedling on the forest floor)

But the weirdest thing about my addiction is the reason why I can’t seem to stop… but I might just have sussed (old Irish word meaning solved) it. Ok, so come along on a walk with me: We’re on a path bordered by grass and tall trees.The grass is green, the tree trunks are grey with a dusting of green moss towards their bases. They are deciduous trees and their leaves continue to fall all around us as we walk. Our heads are bent down looking for the perfect leaf. We are not talking, we are concentrating. From time to time one of us spots the perfect leaf and drops to the ground, picks it up and has a good look at it.

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Lets say it’s you and you’re now holding a maple leaf, so it has three big pointy bits, two small pointy bits and it’s chubby. Too bad… unfortunately the middle pointy bit is a bit off-center, so you know it’s not perfect. Ah well, you hang onto it anyway because the colour is wonderful and the veins on the underside feel lovely to the touch.

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(Oh the perfect feather?)

We walk on and continue our search but when it’s time to go home we are no nearer to finding the perfect leaf. All the leaves in your hand have little imperfections, same for me. And yet we’re still carrying them. We seem to like them anyway….

There are no perfect leaves, just amazingly beautiful leaves, bit like us then, Mairead.

Head Space – there’s an app for that!

November 12, 2013November 11, 2013 | Mairead

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(Sign from bridge in Mount Usher Gardens… don’t jump, leap)

I’ve started doing meditation. I’ve started many times before but this time I might keep going. So far I’ve completed twenty days. I’m doing it with an app. It’s on my phone and every morning it reminds me that it’s time to get some head space. So I sit down, tap the app and a guy talks me through fifteen minutes of calming words and paying attention to my breathing.

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(They have funny signs…)

Last Friday was about noticing my emotions and then noticing my breathing. He says it’s not that I’m supposed to change anything, just notice. Funny enough when I begin noticing my breathing something changes with my emotions. Not the emotion but the power behind it, it seems to shift back to me. The week before was about noticing discomfort in my body (like pain or irritation or just an itch). When I noticed discomfort there was no need to change it just notice it. I had a slight pain in my shoulder but I figured it was enough to use for the noticing exercise. I think the idea is that we normally resist the discomfort and this makes the discomfort even more uncomfortable. But when we notice or pay attention to the discomfort it comes to the surface of our consciousness and can be released.

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(and a sad sign…)

So I tried it and it was a very different sensation to “feeling” the pain in my shoulder. Noticing the pain in my shoulder doesn’t make my mind wander to Is there something wrong with my shoulder? So, no worry, just curiosity, about that discomfort thing in my shoulder. The pain in my shoulder didn’t go away but the next day when I was noticing for discomfort in my body, my shoulder had less pain than the previous day.

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(and a strong sense of history and the details)

I might just keep doing this kind of meditating, Mairead.

PS The app is called Headspace, the first ten days are free and you can pay by the month or the year after that. I signed up for one month’s worth. Oh and Denis didn’t write it! And they’re not paying me (or him) I just like it and I paid for it… myself… This is getting way too long-winded.

Wounded and Sickly Ego in the Safe Cave

November 11, 2013November 10, 2013 | Mairead

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(All the pictures are from Mount Usher Gardens in Ashford, Co. Wicklow)

I took a week off blogging and I have great excuses, but It’s the excuse that stops me going back to blogging that I want (well, really don’t want) to write about now. So… in general I share on this blog the stuff that’s difficult for me. Normally, the sharing makes me uncomfortable up to a value of 7-ish (that’s out of 10, 10 being death by shame – of my ego.) But this post pushes the discomfort way up to a 9 or 9.5, so I’m feeling (or my ego is feeling) very sick. Like, vomit-inducing sick, so maybe you need to stand back….

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(Path with gate… open the gate)

I had a heart-to-heart conversation last week with someone who shall remain nameless and reads every post I publish. She told me I wrote some nice things but I wasn’t practicing what I preached. First blow to my ego armour. Although wounded (ego, not really) I did realise she meant this as a compliment. Unfortunately, I was too caught up in the shame I didn’t ask which particular nice thing was I not practicing. Instead, I buckled under said shame. The shame of being thought of as someone who preaches, someone who thinks they’re better than others and someone who is being dishonest. Second, third and fourth blow. At that stage I though I might be mortally wounded, so a good time to protect my shame.

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(Path with steps… get ready)

Right so, I figured the best way to protect my shame was to hide. Yep, that feels good. And I have a brilliant hiding idea – I’ll stop the writing. Grand, I can do that. Well, I’d have to because it was beginning to dawn on me that there was probably more than one nice thing I was preaching about and not practicing. Since (I think) I am writing about all the things I find difficult, it’s probably accurate to say that I’m not too good at practicing them. Ok, I’ll stop the writing.

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(Grassy path… soft landing)

So to summarise, I’m talking then, I’m wounded, then mortally wounded, then I go off to hide, I sit in my little cave, safe and sound and everyone lives happily ever after. Not really. There’s a leeetle problem….. sitting in my safe cave I come to realise that the writing (this now potentially dangerous – to ego – activity) is one of my precious things… the things that are really precious to me, the things I really need to share. Oops.

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(Winding path with no end in sight… trust)

I can’t stop the writing… and really, I don’t want to. Instead, I’ll have to come out of my safe cave. I’ll have to find a way to realise that the wounds aren’t real and they aren’t serving me. I’ll have to go out on the ledge, again… on my own.

Just to be clear:

I am telling you how things are for me.

I am not saying I can do this.

I am not saying you should do this.

I am not promising I won’t go back to hiding.

I am saying that practicing this might be too hard for me.

I am saying I’m going to take the first step and only then consider taking another step.

And lastly, I like heart-to-heart talks (even if my ego doesn’t) so the me (when she’s not protecting her ego) thanks the someone who shall remain nameless for giving me this insight. Really, thank you.

I’m not saying I’ll like the next heart to heart though, Mairead.

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