wells-of-wellness

1981

Early in the morning, 31 years ago, Jacob wanted to be born.

It took much of the day.

He was born September 10, 1981.

One time when he was a teenager, I got a call that he was being transported to Duluth, MN, by ambulance with a “head injury” from a ski hill community a fair distance away. I went to the hospital to wait for his arrival. I was very afraid. I did not know the nature of his injury. While I waited I preregistered him with the birthdate of 9/11/1981. Turned out, he greeted me with a smile and a joke as he was transported from the ambulance to the ER. His injury was minor.

Thanks be!

All the years since then Jacob and I have bantered about which day is actually his birthday, the one I told the hospital that day when I was afraid, or the one he was actually born when I was very joyful.

November 1, 2011, a wee bit less than ten months ago, Paul Lawrence died.

We are staying, here in Kells, County Kerry, Ireland, in a home that was imagined by Paul Lawrence and then built by Paul and Martha and their children and some others. It was built in the 70’s, at a time when the Irish construction industry was building ranch homes. Paul did not want a ranch. He wanted a house that was consistent with traditional Ireland construction and, at the same time was contemporary in design. With the help of an imaginative architect he achieved both. It worked then . . . and it still does today.

Continue reading “1981”

3 rainbow day

steps in the Kells garden — Where might these steps be leading you?

perhaps to this happy wild thing in the Kells garden

bird in the Kells garden — or this cute small bird of Ireland

or this beautiful labyrinth made by me on the Kells beach and modeled on the one we walked in Glendalough – by now, with the tide coming in, it has been washed away beneath the waters of Dingle Bay

our first beach labyrinth — or this cute small bird of Ireland

or this beautiful labyrinth made by me on the Kells beach and modeled on the one we walked in Glendalough – by now, with the tide coming in, it has been washed away beneath the waters of Dingle Bay

one of three rainbows we saw this afternoon — one of three magnificent rainbows we saw this afternoon over the beach at Kells Bay

other end- same rainbow — one end of this rainbow was on the beach (maybe the labyrinth?) and the other end was in the water of the Bay . . . such an extravagant arc of covenant

May the wind loosen all tautness.

May the salt air cleanse.

May the sand give certainty.

May the rainbow remind of God’s presence always and always.

landscapes from Valentia Island

Yesterday found us on Valentia Island.

Here are a few views from the day:

lots of light and shadow as we look toward Cahersiveen from Valentia

way “bigger” than my photography is able to display.

Looking toward the Kells hills

near the lighthouse on Valentia Island

Phil’s lighthouse beach cairn

the coastline of the Island near the Tetrapod trackway

Skelligs in the mist of the horizon

another view

Four who found their way to Valentia yesterday:

Bruce and Roberta at Fogher Cliff

Phil and Patricia (as photographed by Bruce) on the ferry to Valentia

Phil (as photographed by Patricia) doing what some say is what he does the best

Innocence

All twenty lines of the poem, Innocence:

They laughed at one I loved –

The triangular hill that hung

Under the Big Forth. They said

That I was bounded by the whitehorn hedges

Of the little farm and did not know the world.

But I knew that love’s doorway to life

Is the same doorway everywhere.

Ashamed of what I loved

I flung her from me and called her a ditch

Although she was smiling at me with violets.

But now I am back in her briary arms;

The dew of an Indian summer morning lies

On beached potato-stalks –

What age am I?

I do not know what age I am,

I am no mortal age;

I know nothing of women,

Nothing of cities,

I cannot die

Unless I walk outside these whitehorn hedges.

Love’s doorway to life

Today our travels took us back to the Dingle Peninsula so Bruce and Roberta could experience Dingle and beyond. Among the treasures we encountered was the Dingle Music Shop.

Conversation led to conversation which led to conversation. Eventually Caitriona asked Michael if he would play a bit for us on his button box. This is one of the tunes he played:

Wooooooooohooooooo!

We are blessed.

In his poem, Innocence, Patrick Kavanagh wrote these two lines among the twenty lines of the poem (they are 6&7):

But I knew that love’s doorway to life

Is the same doorway everywhere.

Today, in Dingle, Ireland, we walked through that doorway.

May you walk through the doorway, too, leading you to conversation and quiet and music and laughter and joy and a wee bit of awe.

eat ’em fresh

On a beautiful walk in the Ireland sun we picked blackberries yesterday.

blackberries on the vine

our plate of blackberries

On line, I came across this poem by Seamus Heaney:

“Blackberry Picking” can be found in Opened Ground: Selected Poems 1966-1996. Heaney, born in 1939, won the Nobel Prize in 1995. According to his Nobel biography, he grew up as a country boy on a farm in County Derry, northern Ireland.

Blackberry Picking

Late August, given heavy rain and sun

for a full week, the blackberries would ripen.

At first, just one, a glossy purple clot

among others, red, green, hard as a knot.

You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet

like thickened wine: summer’s blood was in it

leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for

picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger

sent us out with milk-cans, pea-tins, jam-pots

where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.

Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills

we trekked and picked until the cans were full,

until the tinkling bottom had been covered

with green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned

like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered

with thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard’s.

We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.

But when the bath was filled we found a fur,

A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.

The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush

the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.

I always felt like crying. It wasn’t fair

that all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.

Each year I hoped they’d keep, knew they would not.

So, the moral of the poem is: you gotta eat ’em fresh . . . so we will.

Whispering across the half-door of the mind

While in the Glendalough Valley, we wrote almost daily about there not being words for its ancient, mystical beauty and grace.

On our first trip to Cahersiveen, which is the first town to the west of where we are on Kells Bay, we saw the Barracks, the remnants of an old castle, sheep, meadows, the soft lines of the County Kerry landscape, and a bust of and quote from Sigerson Clifford. He is a poet/playwright who was born in Cahersiveen. His given name was Edward Bernard Clifford. His parents were Michael Clifford and Mary Ann Sigerson. He lived his life from 1913 to 1985.

As a writer, young Edward Clifford adopted the first name Sigerson in honour of his maternal family, although he continued to be known as “Eddie” to family and friends. He writes of his Kerry heritage as the voices that come to him on every wind.

Continue reading “Whispering across the half-door of the mind”

3 pics

Patricia, Roberta & Bruce heading to the beach.

this is what we see . . . but part of its beauty is how ever changing it is.

took this picture right after the other one . . . same time, such different light.

Bruce & Roberta

Neighbor/friends from Sarasota arrived in Shannon yesterday.

We had a good time with them. They are struck with the majestic beauty of this particular piece of Ireland on the Ring of Kerry.

Signal comes and goes from here (the house in Kells). Even as I type it is on and off.

So will just post these few words before the signal fades again.

I am feeling much better.

Today we may try a hike to the top of the west side of Dunloe Gap, or maybe Valencia, or . . .

May the light of this day sparkle within you. May the wind of this day en-spirit you. And may you know pause or two when you look around and are sure.

a couple pics from a day in Ireland

This was the color that began our day

full bin of purple yarn at the Kerry Woolen Mills

We got to The Kerry Woolen Mills. Great fun.

Then to a “pharmacy” in Killarny where I got some Sudafed. Some relief of congestion. Thanks be.

Then went to St. Mary’s Cathedral and lit some candles and prayed for people in need.

Then had some lunch which was good and included an animated, delightful conversation withe the restaurant window washer named, Joe.

Then to the Gap of Dunloe . . . so beautiful. Third generation “trap” driver took us up with his Clydesdale named, Barbie.

Then home to Kells as the rain and fog came in. A few moments of sunshine though, afforded us a magnificent arc of bright rainbow. A good omen for us and for Bruce and Roberta who are traveling from Sarasota tonight to be with us here for a week.

Well, you’ll just have to imagine a lovely flower, a pic of the 300 year old mill building, their calm and easy old white dog, us driving the “trap”, the gap of Dunloe, John our guide/driver and his horse Barbie, a goat and a sheep, vibrant beautiful gracious color.

May you be sure you are loved tonight. May you be bold in your love tomorrow. May you be surprised by love often and often.