"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 . . .
I started a one year sabbatical from my job of over 20 years in January this year. For the first couple of months I struggled with a bout of shingles and every other damn thing you could imagine. I even managed to fall flat on my face twice. For the first time since I was 10, I have two scabby . . .
I spent two days absorbing the art at Tate Modern and Tate Britain the other week. The retrospective of David Hockney was a treat. I don't think I had ever seen an exhibition of his before. But those pictures were in all the books we read during my art college years. It was like . . .
I was talking with an old friend, some one who has been around the block with me over the years. As with most women of a certain age, we got to the heart of the matter pretty quickly. I realised that for more than 20 years I have been inside the kind of job . . .
Last year the Editor of the News and Star invited me to write a guest column for this paper. She found me, because I blog away quietly every week on a site called Foxglove Lane (foxglovelane.com) As what she was asking seemed to be a one-off adventure, I wrote about some of my passions; . . .
".....let that great sweeping wind blow the fog out of her soul..." L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables) It's biting cold. Our first proper frosty morning, with a nice dollop of fog to boot. Layering up, I tip toe out into the . . .
"Breathe-in experience, breathe-out poetry." Muriel Rukeyser I'm delighted to be a Finalist in the 2016 Littlewoods Irish Blog Awards, of course I am. If you can hear a "but" coming that's because I sometimes feel a little like a square peg in a round . . .
How did rural living get to be so exciting! When I started to blog in 2011 I didn't have a plan or any idea where I might be going. In my work life I had chosen to follow an activist path rather than an artistic one. Gradually over the those years, I began returning to . . .
It was 2010, I was a bit tired and depressed about the world. The every day news seemed to reduce everything to the fact that human nature was ugly and hateful. Politics was hopeless too, having worked for social progress all my life, change seemed to happen at a snail's pace. Suicide was . . .
It's hard to stay on track with what's authentic and enriching for the soul. At times everything gets out of whack. Since our economic crash we have lived with the challenges of stagnation and lack of opportunity. We dealt with it all as best we could. But now? . . .