Really, Moira, it was no trouble :)

June 10, 2012June 10, 2012 | Mairead

(View from the dart)

Friday was an odd day. I went to Dublin on the Dart. I didn’t bring an umbrella, probably just as well – gusting winds. I didn’t bring a hat, so hair a bit streely (old Tipperary word meaning… well, not good.) On the return journey something on the train line to Greystones broke and I had to get off at Bray, where there was more rain and windy gusts and also some inspiration…..

(Simple Daisies)

It’s the kind of day you should stay home and sit by a warm fire, but two weeks ago I promised my sister I’d deliver something and I hadn’t done it. Oh, it seemed like such a small thing when she asked and it was, I love going into Dublin. It’s just I never got around to doing it (does this remind anyone of the gardening?) I had even begun to get specific, promising that I would do it on Thursday… but I didn’t. So Friday was the day. The Met. Office had issued weather warnings but I’d have to start lying to my sister if I didn’t go now. I couldn’t do that…. could I? No, of course not.

Heart

(The delivery…. “Head over Heels” Alan Ardiff)

Anyway, I went, and on the way home as an announcement proclaimed the broken thing in Greystones I met a young woman. She had been on her way to Greystones too and heard me talking on the phone to Denis (isn’t he great, he offered to pick me up in Bray?) She asked if I could take her from the train into the station. She was blind and didn’t know this station well enough to navigate it on her own. I was inspired by her trust. Not just her trust in me but the bigger trust… her trust in a benevolent world, her trust that everything would be okay enough to go outside and navigate in the dark. Her trust that she would get to her destination. I was also inspired by her willingness to ask for help.

Trust and ask for help… simple. Mairead.

Happy Birthday Mammy!

June 5, 2012June 4, 2012 | Mairead

Coffee

(This way. This way.)

It’s a bank holiday weekend in Ireland so we celebrated and had our lunch out and now we’re having coffee (for him) and green tea (for me) as well. My sister-in-law (Hi Helen!) thinks I spend all my time in coffee shops and I can see why she might think that – I talk about them a lot. But this week I’ve only had coffee (or tea) out twice. Considering it was a busy week for me that’s probably a lot!

Julie s Garden

(Julie’s favourite garden at Bloom)

When I was littler, maybe about ten, the big treat in our house was for my Mum and me to go on the bus to a town fifteen miles away called Clonmel. I used to think we were there all day but I now know the bus dropped us off at midday and we had to be back on board and heading for Cashel by 3pm. Our town didn’t have the great shops they had in Clonmel. Years later when I met my friend Frieda she told me that she and her Mum used to do the same thing. Except she lived in Clonmel and drove to the great shops in Cashel!

Pepsi Can Eagle

(Pepsi Can Eagle in the Rehab garden at Bloom)

We never left without a visit to the coffee shop. It was in a little room behind a bakery. There was a small window and the chairs weren’t very comfortable, but to me it was luxury. Spending time with my Mum, being treated like an adult eating salad sandwiches and cake. No wonder I love going to coffee shops. We were still making that trip when I was a teenager and much later when my children were toddlers their favourite game with their granny was The Bus to Clonmel, where the sofa was the bus!

Mum and Helen

(My Mum, my sister-in-law Helen and my very embarrassed brother, Lar)

Today (Tuesday) is my Mum’s birthday, she shares the day with the Queen’s Jubilee, but the Queen can’t make it to Cashel this year, maybe it’ll be quieter for her next year. I’m remembering all the nice things my Mum did for me including teach me the value of taking time off to go to the coffee shop.

Thank you Mum and Happy Birthday! Mairead.

Birds and Toddlers do it.

March 23, 2012April 16, 2012 | Mairead

(A Robin)

The birds are singing outside the window again as I write and I continue to be amazed at how much their singing affects me. For the better. I’m cheered just listening to them do their thing. They have no idea I’m here enjoying them. They are definitely not doing it for me. In fact I don’t know why they sing. It makes me feel good to imagine that they sing because they enjoy singing.

(More birds)

They remind me of the daughter, when she was a toddler. She used to sing to herself as she played with her toys. The tune was never recognisable and the lyrics were a jumble of words and syllables. One day I told her I would write down the words so she could keep her song forever. She didn’t seem that interested but she let me write every word and syllable.

(Rory, a long, long time ago when he was a toddler)

To the little toddler forever is right now, this moment, because this moment never ends… now is always now. To the adult, now is just a passing blink as we head straight for tomorrow. The singing birds halt everything…… and bring my attention to now, here and now, exactly where I am… now.

Now, where are you? Mairead.

Believe it or not…..

August 31, 2011April 12, 2012 | Mairead

(There were lots of statues of bears like this around Berlin)

Unbelievably, four days later and I’m still at the coffee shop. Remember yesterday, I told you about my belief of being a failure? And the day before about how one situation can have many different ways of looking at it?

(TV tower with rotating restaurant, Alexanderplatz, Berlin)

There I was, finished with college at nineteen and no parchment to frame. Nothing to show for my time in the world of Electronic Engineering. Or had I? Well, with the benefit of hindsight and a different belief it turned out I was on a different course altogether…..

(Nice trees at the Palace)

I was on the “Find a Smart Husband Here” course! I got the (marriage) parchment (never did frame it). He was from Cork, I was from Tipperary, we met in Limerick, in the library. He had really interesting things to say, I was a good listener. There was no formal test. But it’s been more than thirty years now so I think I passed.

I like this story better than the failing one. All that I needed was to know that I had a story and then I could decide to pick one I liked better.

What story do you want to believe? Mairead.

A belief is only an opinion we think is true…

August 30, 2011April 12, 2012 | Mairead

(3fe Abbey Street Dublin)

Still here at 3fe, it’s very busy but they haven’t asked me to leave…yet! So yesterday, I was talking about tying ourselves to a belief. I have another belief to share.

When I was eighteen and making my career choices, I hadn’t a clue what to do. I didn’t want to go to college, but I also didn’t have another option. So I took my career counsellor’s advice and started an Electronic Engineering course. At the time I liked to knit and my big dream was to become a Mom, but none of that appeared on my Leaving Certificate results so it didn’t count…..

(Above ground station on the underground railway, Berlin)

The course lasted for four years… I lasted just over a year. I failed. That was my belief. Added to that was a belief that I could not study, and I was inferior to people who could and who had successfully attained their degrees.

After that in every situation where I would be tested on my ability, I froze….. In case it’s not obvious, freezing in a test situation is not conducive to passing the test. Oops.

(Railway art… detail from previous picture)

So…. self-fulfilling story.

Naturally, I did my best to stay away from test situations….. well… who wants to fail? But the funny thing….. the thing that was guaranteeing my failure was me and my story!

Choose a useful story, Mairead

The stories we believe…..

August 29, 2011April 12, 2012 | Mairead

(Beauty in the eye of the beholder)

So… I’m still here at the coffee shop and I’m thinking about the stories we believe about ourselves. When I was a new Mum, with a little baby that cried a lot, I believed I was a bad mother. It was an easy story to believe. Nothing I seemed to do would stop that crying. When I looked around at other mothers they seemed to know what they were doing, their baby wasn’t crying, that’s what makes a good mother……

(Room with a garden)

Unfortunately, when we believe a story, everything we see from then on fits into our story. We make it fit into our story. But the truth is, any situation we find ourselves in can be looked at in numerous ways. For the baby crying we can say…. bad mother, new mother, sick baby, bad food, painful allergy, high temperature, ill-health… which one is true? Who knows? Maybe all, maybe none.

(The east German walk man)

The “bad mother” can’t see the good things she’s doing, she has tied herself to a story. But a story is only something we believe about ourselves and a belief is only an opinion we think is true.

Maybe it’s time to pick up a new story, Mairead.

Coffee shop writing…..

August 28, 2011April 12, 2012 | Mairead

(Coffee Time)

Since I’ve been sitting on the sofa resting for the past four days, I’m a bit stir-crazy. So today Denis dropped me to the door of a coffee shop in Dublin and I can get back to my “coffee-shop writing”. He was going to Maplins, his craft shop, so I’m nearby on Abbey Street at 3fe. Strange name for a coffee shop? It stands for third floor espresso. There’s a story….

(Big lizard outside Berlin aquarium)

This guy, Steve, used to work in banking or the stock market or something and he gave it all up to become a world-class barista. True story… He set up a training room in his apartment (on third floor) and within a year he had entered the world barrister finals in the US and had come in a respectable fourth. Now he sells coffee in different ways using very geeky gadgets. He and his team also sell very nice sandwiches and very yummy muffins.

But it was the story that got me to have coffee here. Well of course it did, he gave up everything to do the thing he wanted to do? I’m in. Now that I’m here I’m ready to notice what’s different about this coffee shop? And it is different. It’s not squeaky clean, the colours are very bright, the shelves are like granny’s kitchen, not completely square, not exactly fitting and not plastic.

(Close-up of zebra stripes)

So that means it’s not exactly perfect either. Surprise, surprise. If it didn’t have a story I wouldn’t be here. Stories are really attractive to us and they are also really useful. The stories that lulled us to sleep as children. The stories we watched at the cinema or on the TV. The stories we believe about ourselves.

What do you believe about you? Mairead.

Taxi Tour Guide

August 24, 2011April 12, 2012 | Mairead

(Lunch…. looking like a green moustached little man?)

We had a very interesting conversation with our taxi driver on the way to the airport. He’d lived in Berlin for sixteen years and loved it. As a teenager he’d been taken on a school trip to east Berlin, while it was still under Russian rule. He was fascinated by the place and wanted to come back. So after he left school he visited Berlin many times, but just the west part.

(Anyone for some Sachertorte?)

It was a difficult journey. It took twelve hours from his home, the same journey now takes five. Going back to our history lesson….. the free Berlin, the west part, was surrounded by a wall (well.. two walls with the no-mans land filled with mines and guard dogs in between all watched over by guard towers…. to be precise). The further complication was that Berlin was also situated in the Russian (not so free) part of Germany, to the east. Maybe a picture would help?

(Former West Germany in purple, former East Germany in yellow. City of Berlin in middle of yellow. Barbed-wire lined road corridor ran from purple west Germany across Sachsen-Anhalt to Berlin)

So…. to get to Berlin (while the wall was still up) our taxi driver had to drive along a road corridor through east Germany to west Berlin. Are you keeping up? He was questioned at the border checkpoint and if anything was amiss he would not be allowed through or could be held prisoner. If he did get through his journey was timed and if he arrived at the Berlin checkpoint later than expected then he was in trouble. If he arrived sooner than expected this was also a serious problem. And yet he continued to make the journey…..

(Checkpoint….. Charlie!)

Incidentally….. the first border crossing checkpoint at the start of the corridor was called Alpha (from the phonetic alphabet for A), the second one was called Bravo (B) and the one between the American sector and Russian Berlin was Charlie (C)…. thus Checkpoint Charlie.

Over and out, Mairead.