The Friday Post
It's been a complicated week. I was trying to find the words to describe it, encapsulate all the ups & downs, the tide rises and falls.
I'm still trying to deal with the pain in my shoulder. It's disturbing my sleep and that's never a good thing. I can't find a comfortable way of lying down. I have to put a cushion under my arm, but sure that never stays where it should. My head always gets a bit fried without proper sleep, I'm sure you'll know what I mean.
I dropped off my pieces for the "Listen to the Land Speak" exhibition in Cnoc Bui, Union Hall on Tuesday. You're probably sick of my banging on about it at this stage, but we're nearly there now. The opening is tomorrow night. A few of the tribe say they'll be coming along, for support like.
It's also Lughnasadh tomorrow and we've just had the full moon. It's the festival of Lugh. One of the legends has it that Lugh’s foster mother Tailtiu cleared the plains of Ireland for agriculture and died from exhaustion. In her honor, Lugh established funeral games.
Lugh's an interesting character, and my Book of Magan has his grandfather Balor's eye on the front cover, with Lugh, in his chariot, holding Areadbhair the wondrous spear with which he killed Balor, on the back. Tis a complicated story! 😉
The curator Alison asked me if I could write down some of the story behind my 2 books. The other being Bionn Silúlach Scéalach. It was very hard to summarize the stories within the covers. Sure you know, a picture paints a 1000 words.
Thankfully Mair, my eldest, has put a Zine together, with a few outlines to the stories within. I think she did an amazing design job, using some of the photos and the text from my social media. James took the photos of the pages, so a real family collaboration ❤️
On the subject of family, we had a visit from Kate's brother Meurig & his wife Kristie & their young tribe of 3, have come over frim America. Along with another niece, they were out exploring the garden.
The girls making "potions & perfumes," while the lads found a couple of fine sticks. I was told one was for "beating" & the other was a fine "walkie talkie." I can't tell you just how much I love to see the kids exploring the garden. Disappearing into the undergrowth only to reappear triumphant, with stories of amazing adventures. Thankfully, no swimming in the pond this time! 🤭
Then we have the tragic death of Glen Hansard. Singer, musician, poet, humanitarian & storyteller. I am still processing. The outpouring of emotion online and the celebration of his life has been intense. The footage of him singing to his young son on the Hill of Uisneach in tribute to his own father & to Manchán Magan would surely break the heart of a stone.
I have my own personal stories of Glen, as do so many others, back in the day when I was working in Dublin, in the music industry. Then out of the blue, my old boss, rather my very dear friend Spencer, got in touch to tell me he was retiring and we nattered about getting old. Afterwards he sent me a photo of himself with his 2 grandchildren.
I think there's a lesson there for me. With all the chaos I see and read about, I have to constantly keep reminding myself to focus on the really important things in life, for we know not what the future holds.
Lughnasadh Blessings my friends 🙏. May you reap what you sew 🪡
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