story

The front of the Westport train goes to Galway

| Mairead

(Comfy throws at my Somatics class)

I was travelling on the 7.30am train from Dublin to Westport, last year. I had brought my crochet needle and wool, a magazine, bottle of filtered water, snacks, a pen and some paper. It’s a three and a half hour journey, I wanted to be prepared! Something you may not know about that Dublin to Westport train is that it goes to Galway too. Well, only the front bit of the train goes to Galway. It’s an efficiency thing, I think. The whole train goes as far as Athlone and then the front bit is unhooked and it goes onto Galway while the back bit goes to Westport. A bit worrisome the first time I travelled on it,  but once I realised which bit of the train I needed to be sitting in, it was fine.

(Rua the horse)

Anyway, this time I had spread my things out on the table and was settling into my crochet when the ticket collector came to check my ticket. He also checked the ticket of a male passenger (there was only two of us in the carriage) in a seat on the other side of the aisle from me. It seemed the man was going to Galway, but here he was sitting in the back bit of the train. The bit that was going to Westport! (Are you’re feeling my anxiety here?) Anyway, the ticket man explained that he needed to go to the front of the train and the man nodded. But… he didn’t move……

(Sally the angel and her stars)

The ticket man left to check the passenger’s tickets in the next carriage. I was doing my best to concentrate on my crochet and remain calm (why was I so worried?) when the man for Galway gets my attention by showing me his ticket and pointing to a station we are flying past.

I realise something….. he can’t talk.

I read his ticket, it said Galway (which I knew). I can talk so I assumed I could communicate. But I couldn’t. Not that I didn’t try. I did try…. (remember the problem with trying….?)

(Thierry’s cook books)

First, I spoke very clearly and concisely, saying, “No, you must move to the front of the train for Galway.” He nodded, and smiled, a lot, but he still didn’t move. So I had another idea, I wrote the same message on my notebook and handed it to him. He smiled and nodded again but still didn’t move. I began using hand gestures towards the front of the train. He had a lovely smile…. but he still didn’t move. My message was not being understood. I was starting to feel anxious again. There was still another hour until we arrived in Athlone, there was still time for him to get to the right part of the train. I had to come up with a plan. So I did. I decided I would take him by the arm and guide him to the front of the train just before we arrived in Athlone.

(Poker food….)

But I had a problem…. I had been up since 5am to get this train and I was now starting to feel drowsy. Usually I just doze off at some point but now I couldn’t possibly close my eyes in case I was asleep when we got to Athlone! While I’m contemplating this I look over and the man has fallen asleep! Now we are close to Athlone, I am a nervous wreck and I’ve ripped the crochet five times.

And then the ticket man returns.

(Poker chips)

He patiently wakes the man and tells him it’s time to move to the front of the train and communicates this somehow because the man gets up and follows him…. but not before giving me a big smile, a lovely smile.

And I thought….. there was nothing for me to worry about. I didn’t need to fix anything. All is well. It always was….

All is well, Mairead.

Let the Bag Decide

| Mairead

(You can never have enough tin cans…. or blue paint…..)

On holidays, a small bag was the only storage available for my worldly goods. There’s only so much luggage a motorbike can carry and it’s not as much as a small car! At first it seemed impossible. How would I fit everything I needed? Maybe it was impossible.

But Denis devised a mantra which he delivered faithfully whenever I asked if there was room for something new….. “Let the Bag Decide”. By this he meant, if it fits in the (small) bag then there was room for it.. but the bag had to close……..

(You can never have enough baskets……)

So I had to prioritise. I had to bring less. I had to choose what was important to me. Not a bad exercise. But the surprising things? It was amazingly freeing, really…… and easy to keep tidy…. and easy to pack up….. and easy to unpack….. and it took me less time to choose what I would wear each morning, not a small saving!…… and I didn’t miss the stuff I didn’t bring.

(Maybe you can have too many CDs…)

Back home there’s no need to prioritise. If I think I might wear something I hang onto it just in case. It’s not just clothes. So I was thinking it’s time for a new mantra:   “Less is More”

Starting tomorrow (too busy tidying up to start today…) I’m doing a de-clutter.

(You can never have too many board games……)

How many shoes do I really need? Could five rain coats be excessive, even if it is raining in June? Can I survive the loss of the old paint cans in the shed? Will I regret dumping (in the recycle bin) the jam jars I’ve been saving for…. mm… for something?

Less is More, Mairead

Pause between the Cycles

| Mairead

(Raspberries in Liam and Kate’s garden)

Today I’m doing housework. Sitting here on the sofa, squashed up between the upside down side tables, the books and the cushions, it looks like I’ve been very busy. I like this moment. Before everything goes back in its place. If someone walked in now they would think I was a great housewife (as long as they didn’t notice me sitting down).

(Seemingly Lavender keeps the flies at bay?)

There’s a similar moment when I do the ironing (which I love doing). The moment when the shirts hang crease-less, the t-shirts and jeans stand in their towers, and the sheets, duvet covers and pillowcases look like they’ve just come from the shop. I make this moment last as long as possible. Sometimes, it’ll be days later when I put away the finished ironing. Until then I’ll smile inwardly every time I see it. Of course, the longer that moment takes, the longer it will be before the cycle begins again.

The cycle of washing, drying and ironing.

(Wrinkles on the old tree – beautiful)

Breathing is a bit like that. We breathe in……… we breathe out…….. we pause….. Then the cycle begins again. The pause is like noticing the ironed clothes and smiling inwardly. Notice it!

Breathe, Mairead.

Raindrops

| Mairead

(Rain on the red flowers in the front garden….)

I was out walking in the rain today. Not really by choice, I had some things I needed to do. I was wearing a raincoat and a hat and a skirt. Sorry men, but a skirt is the most comfortable thing to wear when it’s raining. It doesn’t stick to your legs and when you get into the car you can turn it around and not be sitting on the wet bit…. comfy! So I was dressed to withstand the downpour. But I’m not usually.

(Very wet rain)

I was wondering about that. The fact that I know it rains a lot here and yet I don’t usually go out prepared for rain. Am I crazy? What’s that about? Never mind, the result is I’m wet and miserable and I don’t notice all the lovely things going on around me. Not useful.

(Rain on the things that grow from the big plant….)

How might I improve on this? What if I start acting as if it rains a lot in Ireland – by bringing an umbrella and a hat and a coat and a skirt? Or by wearing the motorbike rain gear all the time? Both those solutions are grand but it’s all a little heavy to carry around in my handbag.

(Rain on the lovely looking leaves….)

There is one other solution. I could let go of resisting the thing that’s already happening and consider getting rained on as a nice enjoyable thing,or just a thing that’s happening.  When I get home I could change into the dry skirt and hat and maybe even the coat (in case I’m a little chilly). Less to carry around, nice attitude to be feeling, probably good for health. The great thing is, there’ll be plenty of opportunities to practice letting go of resistance (with all the rain, I mean).

Embrace your rain (whatever it is…), Mairead.

It’s in the blood.

| Mairead

(There’s a lot of iron in Guinness)

About once a month a group of us meet to play poker. It’s a friendly game, with offspring included if they’re available. The smallest number required to play is five and the most has been ten. Everyone puts in five euros and gets a stack of chips (playing chips not eating chips…)

(A cup of tea makes everything better)

Sometimes there’s nice food, sometimes there’s whatever’s in the kitchen. The food’s not important.  But the most consistent and important thing on poker night is the laughter. We laugh a lot… at anything. Could be we laugh at the cards we’ve been dealt. Could be we laugh at one person trying to pretend she has bad cards…… or someone else pretending he has good cards. Or it could be we laugh just knowing that we’re okay in this group, there’s nothing to do and there’s no way we have to be….. It’s just fun.

(Hang onto your money)

I went to a burial today. My aunt’s brother. I didn’t know the man but he’s my aunt’s second brother to be buried in the last two months so I went to see her. She lives in the same house as my Dad and my Granny used to live. As children my brother and I were taken there to visit our Granny and see all our cousins. Today I travelled roads I had traveled as a child and I felt like a six-year-old. When I got out of the car, there were my cousins again and we were laughing and joking like we did as children.

(Nice food today)

As well as tears, there’s always lots of laughter at funerals……  like the poker there’s nothing to do and no way you have to be. Just turn up and be… with others who know you’re okay. You are family… even if you are a bit weird and don’t quite fit in with the rest of them (oh, maybe that’s just me!).

(Passing on traditions)

At the graveyard it rained and there were hailstones (yes June in Ireland is full of surprises) but that’s ok because it’s good luck! So I was dripping wet as I left to walk to the car and almost bumped into a woman. She was saying to me, “I have to meet this woman”. I smiled, presuming she was talking about another woman, but she went on to say, “You’re Peter’s daughter, aren’t you, I had to come and tell you, Peter played poker in my house every week when he was young.” So I laughed, hugged and asked Elizabeth her name and thanked her for making my day.

Ok Dad, got the message – I’ll keep playing the poker!

Do something that makes you laugh today, Mairead.

I (almost) like book-keeping!

| Mairead

(Garden chair in dry weather – not as nice as when it’s wet – isn’t rain great?)

Since coming back from holidays, things have been different. Well, nothing has changed, but …. something is different. Take the book-keeping (balancing bank accounts, paying tax etc.)…..

Ever since I started helping Denis with the book-keeping I’ve hated it. Really. Hated it. I think it’s mental….. as in I’m thinking fearful thoughts about it. It’s a physical thing too, because it feels like a heavy weight on my shoulders and another heavy weight in my stomach. Not much fun at all. As the date for sending something, anything, to the tax man draws nearer the weights get heavier. The thoughts get a bit heavier too.

(An old bench in the back garden)

This seems to have the same effect as trying (so they may be related) – everything takes much longer, more mistakes are made and it’s no fun… none… at all.

(The garden shed)

But then last year we found a lovely calm accountant (Hello Clodagh!) and I can ask her questions and she can fix my mistakes and she knows what she’s doing – always useful. So everything was great for a while. No more fear of the tax man. No more worries about mistakes. Someone knew what they were doing. Yet…. there was still something heavy in me.

I still hated the book-keeping.

(I love material, sigh…)

But since coming back, the book-keeping is different. Well…. no it’s not different but the way I think about it is different. In the first week back I heard myself say about it to Denis, “this is easy” (he was too surprised to react). By the second week, it had got a bit harder but something had shifted in me, because I wasn’t so heavy. And this week I find myself wanting to hate the book-keeping but not feeling it! While I still don’t like it, I no longer have the heavy weights and mostly my thoughts about it are hopeful and extraordinarily light.

(The garden gate)

I notice I have a pattern of acting and thinking in a particular way in relation to the book-keeping and I haven’t let that go….. yet. Funny thing is, I’m noticing this pattern in other areas too…… The thing we think of as a problem is only a waving flag. There are no problems only flags, waving at us to wake up!

Wake up, all is well, Mairead.

Going Away Party

| Mairead

(“Just dump everything on the bed, we’ll sort it out after the party”)

Today I’m tired. We went to Cashel, my home town, at the weekend. My sister was throwing a party. A going-away party. She’s going away. To Canada. To follow her heart. With her husband and her daughter. My brother-in-law and my niece. My mother’s daughter, son-in-law and grandchild. My daughter’s aunt, uncle and cousin. The list could go on and on, because there were eighty adults and numerous children at that party who are related to or are very good friends with, my sister, her husband and their daughter.

(There are pretty doors in Ireland too)

Always, when we follow our heart, there are consequences. But we still have to follow our heart. Because the consequences of not following your heart are far worse. Living your life to maintain the status quo, to ensure that others are not disturbed, is not living “your” life.

(Just a quick snack before the party)

“Your” life is full to bursting with the possibilities, the dreams and the hopes of your heart. And the world needs those possibilities and dreams and hopes. And you’re the only one that can provide them….. like the poster says “We Need You!” And that applies to YOU whether you’re twenty-five or seventy-five, or older or younger or anything in between!

(My mother grows beautiful roses)

So although I’m tired and a little sad, I am also happy that my little sister and brother-in-law and niece are sharing the possibilities and dreams and hopes of their hearts with the world. They inspire me to do the same.

And….. I get to visit Canada!

Share yourself, Mairead.

Minding your own business

| Mairead

(Coffee and a cook book – heaven)

It’s Saturday. Denis and I went on our Saturday date this morning. Well, not exactly morning as it was nearly one o clock by the time we left . Because we had a visit from our new “drain man”, but that’s another story. Although he will be part of this story.

Anyway, we went to Dun Laoghaire, for those who don’t know it, it’s a big town, with a long pier that the people of south Dublin and Wicklow like to walk. It also has a lot of shops, small and big. It’s on the Dart (Dublin Area Rapid Transit) train line and it also has a ferry port.

While we were there we had coffee, and wandered into and out of a few shops. We were in a small outdoor and sports shop, looking at crocs shoes when we heard a conversation between the shop assistant and a customer. The customer (male) was saying, ” I’m looking for a pair of comfortable shoes for walking about in, would you have something like that?” And the assistant (male) said “well…we have one make, but they’re not very good.” Needless to say the customer didn’t buy them. He didn’t even get to see them!

We were wondering about the possibility that there might be a room full of “not very good” walking shoes in the back of the shop. Something was niggling me.

And then we went into the pen shop. It’s a very small shop on the top floor of the shopping center. It only sells pens… and inks, biros, calculators and there might be other things too. Something you may not know about Denis is he loves pens. Not just any pens. Very particular pens. Before he buys one he has to try them out and compare them. They have to feel “right”. They have to be quiet (I kid you not, one he tried today, was too “noisy”…..) So we enter the shop and the assistant jumps up to greet us. He looks happy to see us. He’s also happy to bring out lots and lots of pens for Denis to try – lots.

By the time Denis makes a choice, the assistant has his phone number. So that he can give him a call when a pen Denis mentioned gets delivered. At this stage I’m starting to think I might need a pen too! What a nice experience.

(All gone)

And that’s when the niggling unfolded.

The man in the pen shop wasn’t an assistant, he was the owner. When you’re the owner of your business your intention is to thrive and (in this economic climate) to survive and you do what’s necessary, in fact you’re HAPPY to do what’s necessary. When you’re the assistant your intention is a bit different. It might be to keep your job, or to just get through your day. But you’re probably not emotionally or financially invested in the success of the business.

My new “drain man” runs his own business. He spent time talking to me on the phone, before any money changed hands. He works on Saturdays. He answers his own phone. He’s invested. I had a good experience. I’ll be recommending him.

And that led me to the thought, there have been times in my life when I just want to get through the day. How would it be different if my intention was to thrive during that day, and every day in my life? To be the owner of my own day, my own life…. And I bet that it would affect the people who meet me, my family, my friends. Maybe they would have a nice experience too.

Mind your own business, Mairead

Success Teams Blog

| Mairead

(Continued from yesterday… Five Lives.) The kind of story I want to be in is one where every day I’m involved in something that lifts my heart.

You see, down in the everyday “stuff” of life it’s easy to get stuck and think you’re not worthy or that your ideas are useless or that you’ll make do with a life you find boring. Because…. it takes a lot of courage to do the things that you love, to share the ideas that you have, to go for the exciting (to you) things. It takes courage to lift your voice up and say “this is what I want.” It takes courage to wonder “what do I want?”

Fortunately, it doesn’t take much courage to lift your heart. It lifts on its own every time you are involved in something you love….. in sport, art, writing, walking, cooking, riding your motorbike (he, he)…. what is it for you?

(Nice cup of tea)

When your heart is lifting….. then you can make up a new story, of a new life.

When I finished the Wishcraft book and wanted more I searched the internet and found that Barbara Sher had devised Success Teams. A team doing the exercises in order to find out what you wanted and then encouraging you to go for it….. But there wasn’t one in Ireland.

I’d have to set it up in Ireland.

Oh, my goodness the FEAR……I’m not worthy, this is a terrible idea, I’ll make do with reading the book again. But it wouldn’t go away. So bit by bit I started telling people and something about my passion for the idea grabbed them too.

They joined me in my story and now we’ve completed the eight weeks course.  Each of us has our own project to lift our hearts. Each one of us is at a different stage. Each one of us feels the fear from time to time and then we meet and the team keeps us going. Going towards what we want.

And the amazing thing to me is…. it’s not about what we want at all…. it’s all about the journey towards it.

Thank you, (in alphabetical order, women!) Ashleigh, Frieda, Julie, Marion, and Molly – my team mates, for lifting my heart when I couldn’t! And now I’m going to do it again.

(For the Wicklow team who played today – Burn the Boats but Keep the Passion!)

Want to build a team to lift your heart when you can’t? Send me an email (mairead@hennessynet.com) or ring (086 827 2332) and get on the next team!

To your soaring heart from mine, Mairead.