First things first. In Ireland the first day of February besides being St Brigid's day is also the first day of Irish spring. OK, meteorologically speaking we are still in winter, but psychologically, because it's our tradition, we're happy to go with it. It's not the only thing we’re totally delusional about. But it's such a . . .
"Well, I think that the threshold — if you go back to the etymology of the word “threshold,” it comes from “threshing,” which is to separate the grain from the husk. So the threshold, in a way, is a place where you move into more critical and challenging and worthy fullness. And I think there are huge thresholds . . .
The summer light has it's moments. This year summer in Ireland has been a beauty. Sometimes later in the evening there are long shadows of delightful darkness. Darkness and light. As my year's leave moves into the final quarter I need to decide whether to return to my busy day job or settle into a less secure full time role . . .
I hear myself saying- I don't know what I'm doing. And there's a freedom in that. I say it, often in the most inappropriate places, only to discover that I'm talking to myself. This phrase soothes me, puts me back on the ground, drags up my humility. Humility which is sometimes in the clutches of . . .
"To be a contemplative is to learn to trust deep time and to learn how to rest there and not be wrapped up in chronological time. Because what you’ve learned, especially by my age, is that all of it passes away. The things that you’re so impassioned about when you’re 22 or 42 don’t even mean anything anymore, and yet, you got so . . .
"Each one of us is alone in the world. It takes great courage to meet the full force of your aloneness. Most of the activity in society is subconsciously designed to quell the voice crying in the wilderness within you. The mystic Thomas a Kempis said that when you go out into the world, you return having lost some of yourself. Until . . .
Darkness, damp nature, gnarled old trees. I'm no witch, but looking into this leafy pool, I fall under its spell. Then down onto the woody undergrowth with me. And the power of the place, the magic! The more I travel with no agenda, the more the lens captures what I'm feeling and living through. Freedom, unfailing resistance, and the . . .
“I wish I could close my eyes and be blown into dust and nothingness, feel all my thoughts disperse like dandelion fluff drifting off on the wind.” ― Lauren Oliver, Delirium Nothingness There was a whole lot of nothingness going on down at the River Anne, in the Anne Valley. Morning mist rising, the sound of birds in song, water . . .
In his recent Christmas message, Brendan Cox the widower of murdered MP Jo Cox, cried out for tolerance and more caring between people. “We have more in common than what divides us, it’s a time to reach out to those who hold different views” he said. Is this the only option left to us all after such a negative and frightening year of change? To try . . .
There was a smudge of navy blue painted onto a peachy sky. Nothing had changed but the eery manifestation of fading light, on a winter's evening. The drama of moments passing. And WE were there. My lens captured the scene. But the sound of the moorhens cooing, and of our footsteps through the darkening meadow . . .