Murals

This posting is in response to a request from Tex who asked to see the murals,on my cottage walls. Alas the numbers have been reduced to just two, both of them by the muralist Kit Wray and a few cartoons that I produced.

You might ask why I painted them in the first place: it was an indulgence that I gave to my inner child, the one who remembers being told off for drawing on his mother's wall paper! The other reason is that they represented the freedom to do whatever I wished in regard to decorating my new home by quietly saying fiddle sticks to convention !

For a few years I gave others the freedom to freely express themselves on the walls of my home, one young fraulien painted a pink elephant and a fire breathing dragon on the entrance walls to one of the driveways. Tex did a painting of a buxom wench spinning wool, a former partner did a nude self portrait and lots of folk expressed themselves their own style.

Wear, tear and redecorating accidents succeeded in reducing the numbers down to those displayed here. Enjoy !

Psss'st you will have to scroll down to the bottom to see them all as gremlins are at work and I was unable to place them exactly !

The faces I found in the relief of the walls

Atmosphere and Character

To say that this cottage is haunted, is too strong a word, better to say that it has a presence or to be more accurate presences, atmosphere and character. The latter words would be from a House Agent perhaps.

The previous owner recommended, once the legal papers were signed, that it would be "In your own interest to get a Mass said in the cottage". I didn't of course, that sort of thing is not in my nature and in any case I was already installed along with my bits and bobs by then.

I knew about the bedroom door that juddered at 2.30 in the morning telling me that it was time to go to bed and of the sounds that came from the furniture when I was in bed. The 'flump' sound of the seat cushion as a heavy person sat down and then the creak of the chair back as they leant backwards. The only puzzle to me was that the furniture didn't make those noises when I or another sat down; I should explain the easy chairs of those days were left here by the previous owner.

For most of my life previous to moving here, I had lived in houses with unseen visitors. In fact my Mother moved into brand new bungalow with one particular noise. It was the sound that a hard covered book makes when it falls flat onto carpet and this noise was always heard during the day time in her hall. When I first heard it and moved to see what had arrived, thinking that it was a package delivered by the postman, my Mother said 'Take no notice'.

Unfortunately she wasn't the sort of person that you could question on that subject. I often thought that by taking notice of something odd, that perhaps she thought it would give it energy, I don't know.

The unseen visitors come and go, I take no notice. Other than when they come really close and I feel the chill of them as they pass over me. Mostly it is when we have company and the yarns are going back and forth, that this type of visitor arrives, perhaps to enjoy the craic - who knows?

The only visitors that have been removed from the cottage were two horses and that was because of their smell. A psychic from England came over and gave me a hand to do that.

Another, the pipe smoking gentleman, hasn't been around for a long time and I think he may have moved on of his own accord.

That still leaves three females: an old granny, a mother and her young daughter. They seem to be the resident guardians of this place.

Other happenings are the sound of the front door opening and closing, the rattle of latches on the internal doors, the noise of a picture falling off the wall, a sudden bolt of white light passing across the front room,

and the fuzzy apparition of a slim woman standing by the front door.

There have been times when people have asked me to clear their unwanted, unseen visitors from their homes or work places. This I will do particularly if the owners or their children feel frightened or that the presence is causing a disturbance that is effecting their health.

Within in my own home it is fine, I accept the validity of their presence; this was their home and still is. The only difference is that they are now just energy forms without a fleshly body.

The Journey Within

A Samhain Garden

There have been times in the past when life seemed to be disordered, chaotic even and yes, this past year had moments like that. I felt myself facing what seemed to be an inevitable situation, far beyond my control and over which I had no responsibility, there being nothing which I could do to bring about change, other than to accept the consequences. The great challenge is to Let Go and from doing so we learn that from in-action, a positive change is made and that is Magic. Not the magic of spells or from fiction, but a happening for which there is no logical reason or explanation.

So I find myself at this time of the year between Samhain and Winter Solstice, when daylight shortens, travelling inwards, to go into deep reflection, a process that comes naturally to me. I look over my shoulder so to speak, at the past year and of that other years remembering those who have touched my life, in unmeasurable ways, enriched me as person deeply and profoundly. Not all of them have left this life, some have and yet even they are accessible, if only as memories or as mental pictures held within.

I have no religious belief, nor do I hold fast to a set of doctrines. In fact I find myself at odds with those who use the word 'belief' as it is entirely different from the word Know of knowledge.

The path I chose for myself is an interior one of silence and meditation, a path that transcends the mundane, beyond active thought. It is in the rich stillness of the mind that I becomes i and finally disappears.

A further explanation is below.

THE MOUNTAIN.

I climbed, but not on foot

and wearied an ancient path.

Steadfast through brambled grass

Belaboured by rambling thoughts

Mindful of a high peak.

Mindful of a high peak

Beyond the verbiage, where

Silence enfolds its own memory

Peace in blue-still air

Cascaded as rain

On the foot of my mind.

On the foot of my mind

I trod it’s tranquil waters

To a fountain of new wine

Transmuted by Love’s seed and fruit

Triumphant over mortal mass

In spirit cleansed by incense pure.

In spirit cleansed by incense pure

I bathed refreshed, relaxed

At the spring of new awakening

To glimpse the foothills of Nirvana

A oneness, in perfection of duality

©1984 MRL

Food of the Heron

Once or twice a week this Heron eats fish, sometimes even more frequently according to his luck. Regularly though fresh Tuna steaks are purchased to satisfy not just my taste buds, but for its nutritious and oily content which canned tuna does not have.

The cooking of and buying of fish regardless of type, is mine alone. My normal method is a medium fry using a dash of olive to which half a teaspoon of cayenne pepper is added. This to my mind brings out the full flavour of the fish, including white fish such as cod or even scallops.

Another preference is to eat the cooked fish without the accompaniment of vegetables, preferring it on its own or with fruit or on a bed of parsley. Tonight I peeled and sliced a sweet apple, dropping the slices into the pan when the tuna was three-quarters cooked.

The end result was simply delicious, I was yumming away so loudly that even Mrs Heron swiped a slice off my plate, fortunately I managed to consume the remainder of the apple before she had the chance to rob me again!

I rarely use recipe books preferring to experiment rightly or wrongly (and isn't that how the recipes were got ?) . Am a firm believer that if you start off with good quality produce and use a spoonful of common sense then you will not go wrong.

Chestnut mushrooms are a firm favourite: I chop them roughly into quarters or halves, leave on the stalks. Toss them into a small pan under a low heat, add a knob of butter, thinly slice a clove of garlic. Let them heat slowly giving a bit of a stir, then add a tablespoon of olive oil by dribbling it over the 'shrooms and another gentle stir before adding a glass of red rich Merlot. All is ready when the 'shrooms have shrunk by 25% or more; remove from heat and serve on to previously heated plates. They can be consumed as a single dish or added to some grilled Linda McCartney's veggie sausages and do dribble any excess sauce from the 'shrooms over all.

I consider myself to be a semi-vegetarian because I eat fish regularly and very, very occasionally Mr Pig in his various forms, mainly as a rasher or a slice of ham. In listening to my body and its needs as it ages, I remain relatively fit and have not lost any feathers, functions or mobility. Am a great believer in regularly taking Lecithin with my organic, oat based, sugar less morning muesli, softened with unsweetened soya milk. In addition I take supplements of Vitamin E 200 iu, Zinc, Omega 3-6-9, garlic and other vitamins come to me via fresh fruit such as pears, plums and bananas on a daily basis. Plus 1 square per day of 60% dark chocolate.
A good guide for your supplements and herbs is BRIGHID'S HEALING by Gina MacGarry ISBN 0 9547 23302 3 published by GREEN MAGIC www.greenmagicpublishing.com

The foods that I avoid like the plague, are wheat, sugar, salt, dairy products (butter is used for cooking now and then so 1/2 lb. lasts for 3 weeks) and all food additives, especially artificial sweeteners and preservatives, such as Aspartame E951 (and its cousin Neotame) & Sodium Benzoate. They are I believe the majority cause of obesity in society and the silent killers!

The clue to the products that contain these silent killers is the prefix words DIET or SUGAR FREE read the small print before you purchase, if necessary take a magnifying glass with you for it is printed in very small print.
Because the manufacturer really doesn't want you to know how bad for you their product is !
These poisons, the silent killers can also be found medicines too again check the labels! Because you are responsible for what you put in your mouth.

Sensory Deprivation

Where are today's children and why are they not outside playing in nature getting cold, wet, muddy and enjoying every minute of the day.

I recall as a child of playing in the water filled tracks that stood in unmettled lanes. As on the photo above: the grass strip in my imagination, would have been an island or even possibly two; For as I might have dug a channel across connecting up the muddy pools.

I often wonder how people, who live in centrally heated and doubled glazed homes , know or even realise on a winter's night that there is frost in the air, when they are without a glowing fire, that is tinged in its heart with a blue flame, indicating a drop in temperature .

Neither do they get a waft of winters of cold air leaping out between the heavy curtains and the wall. Nor the thrill of an unheated bedroom and the clean fresh air, a boon to a good nights sleep.

What awareness do they have of a light or heavy shower of rain, or even the soft skitter of snow and the gentle airs that suddenly gust as an express train to die away then rise again. When their one-eyed monster is blaring out the latest commercial jingle.

It truly amazes me that folks actually cut themselves off from Mother Nature and voluntarily pay thousands to live in Sensory Deprivation from all that is to me the seasonal gifts of the good life.

I was absolutely gobsmacked during the summer when I visited a beach on a bright and warm sunny day. To see the majority of parents and their children dressed in one piece neoprene suits, that completely isolated their bodies from the elements and all they did was to stand in the water up to their knees and talk to similarly dressed idiots.

There was totally no need for these suits, for both the sandy beach and that part of the shoreline is noted for it's cleanliness. Had it been a November or December day, then yes I would have seen the sense in wearing them.

We often don't appreciate the benefits of suffering for a week to ten days from a common cold. Nor do we realize that by doing so, it is actually strengthening our auto immune system to fight off the more serious influenza. Instead many folk go running off to their Doctor looking for an antibiotic, which reduces the cold and kills off the bodies good bacteria along with the bad; thus leaving them wide open to catch something worse!

Which is why The World Health Organisation being aware of the over prescribing of Antibiotics, was able to declare H1N1 as becoming a (probable) pandemic. This in turn scared the living daylights out of some people and caused panic buying of pharmaceutical products.
Being scared is a negative reaction that opens us up on many levels, to the acceptance that something bad can occur and because of that it generally does.

There are other people who remain positive and knowingly or even unconsciously
have the characteristic of Mind over Matter and will remain healthy.

Warts and All

The Well Tree




Damage by coins




Access to the Well



About two miles from here and a short way up a leafy lane stands, a frequently visited tree. It is known affectionately around here as The Well Tree.

It is a very tall Ash with two trunks and branches that appear to scrape the sky, or at the very least, touch the clouds.

The trunks grow upwards, dividing out of a six foot high single trunk and where they separate a 'v' shaped hollow was formed; very like a reservoir, here it is known as a well, for it fills with rain water and in hot summers dries out.

It is to this hollow that people with warts or other ailments come. To dip their hands into the water on three separate occasions or fill a small bottle and take the water away.

Each time a sufferer visits the Well Tree they leave behind them a token, an offering, a gift. The majority of people hammer coins into the Bark, some healing trees are now known as Money Trees because of the quantity of coins in the bark.

It is in the long run very unfortunate for the tree, because the metal coins slowly poison the trees and rot sets in to bring about their early demise.

I do consider this coin offering an odd superstition, with a very back handed gratuity to the tree which has healed the sufferers !

October is Golden

I used to drink a white wine once called Golden Oktober and it was my favourite tipple. A refreshing, pleasant little wine to sip away at on Saturday afternoons, to tease away time. Taken with a few light sandwiches or may be fruit pie.

I think that it was the name that attracted me far more than its quality which was hardly superior!

October is Golden! It is the last month of ancient Summertime, until some fool introduced the term Autumn. Only three seasons in the year then, Winter, Spring & Summer and I think it would be far more practical to revert back to that. There are still crops in the fields and fruit on the trees, the produce therefore declares that it is still summer.

October is golden

How near to me

the blemished leaves

That cling dearly to the branch

soon to fade

crumble and die.

Will I like them

Like you

Run before the great wind

across the cosmic grass

To gather

in a place called Late Summer.

Taking advantage of the few remaining summery days, we arose early to skip breakfast, that is apart from a strong cup of coffee. Which one of my friends calls 'brain food' , bless her for her wit and understanding of what is an important morning ritual that kick starts the day for so many of us.

We set off driving through a light fog that thankfully, was being rapidly burnt off by the warm sun. To the West coast, crossing the River Shannon at Portumna to stop in the Forest Park and give the dog some necessary exercise. Before continuing onwards to our shoreside destination, a beach renown for holey stones and luminescent mother of pearl shells that now grace our bathroom.

It was dog's first siting of the sea, enjoying a romp on the beach, the gently lapping waters of Galway Bay held no attraction to him, he was only enticed into the sea to stand in water three inches deep. By a whistled command from herself, who stood ankle deep in the cool waters.

A boreen leads away up from the beach, at the end stands a beautiful ruin. An old stone farmhouse, the sight of which enticed me with camera in hand to record it's remaining features. For through a glass less window I saw: a cut stone, hand tooled fire place, this was surely then a home that was loved and built by proud people.

And as I stepped in through the door less doorway into the kitchen, hearing in my mind the strains of a jigs n' reels and of dancing feet tapping rhythmically on the floor.

Today alas its the combined music of Atlantic winds and bird song that graces this home, where humans live no more.

Life The Stage

Photo is The Minack Theatre Cornwall

My Blog this week I have called Life the Stage, it is really about death and of how life's perceptions can change. The subject of death hardly ever gets an airing and is rarely discussed most likely because of our conscious fear, regardless of the fact that it is a journey that we all must undertake and from which there is no escape.

Earlier this week I was conversing with a friend about life, its mysterious intricacies, the paths that we have walked that have somehow led us to where we are now. To have the circle of friends that we have now, yet each of us started out in different places on the planet at different dates.

As individuals our lives contain experiences that shaped us and these continue, through some remarkable events or an event in our separateness that brought us all together. This does make me wonder is life accidental or are we living to a pre arranged script ?

Perhaps the poem below will clarify for you the words that I have left unsaid above, even though you may need to read the poem more than once.

Life the Stage

The living dreams of life

stay curious in minds that sleep

As we thespians play out

unwritten lines from a script.

A mystery in waxed footfalls

the rugged stage stumbles players

To shout aloud ‘accident’

unaware of the plot.

That pain creates character.

Babes whimper in hungry winds

starved of words that feed

The editors press with love

that which parents fumble to create.

A continuous dramatic comedy

ever changing scenes unheralded

Through time and space the acts

receive no applause or curtain calls.

For thespians are the critics unpaid

as unborn babes queue as audience

Impatient for a part on the stage.

© MRL 1983

The Universal Egg makes positive changes!

In May we received a phone call from Buster of www.talkingtrees.com to say he was in Killarney and wanted to stop by to present us with a gift. So that he and his good lady would be able to tour the island without having to worry about cracking the Universal Egg.

The Universal Egg is a terracotta ali-baba styled pot, which on Buster's direction we buried in the garden in a position where it would accumulate extra energy (other than that for which the pot is known). We placed it in the centre of a stone circle.

quote from Buster :
The Universal Egg ! Specially designed and constructed according to principals laid down by the father of eco technology Viktor Schauberger. The first true living, breathing water vessel, called by Viktor the holy grail or chalice, venerated by the ancients. The material and shape of the universal egg means it can be used for above and below ground uses. It can heal and ennoble tap water, maintain the freshness of spring water, re-energise and cool sick land, rejuvenate and enliven sick or dying trees. The many uses are as varied as the imaginations of the users.

I followed Buster's instructions and gave the water filled pot a regular stir, even making a stirring device made from a broom handle & two tired CD's.

About two weeks ago I received a email from the great man to remove a third of the water and sprinkle it like rain drops around the garden.

Now I have to admit to having been rather sceptical about the whole business, because as you and I know, that when still water is stored for a lengthy time it becomes stagnant,as well as rather smelly.

So surprise, suprise !

For on lifting off the hessian cover there was definitely no smell or sign of stagnancy. The water that I extracted via a jam jar tied to a pole, was amazingly crystal clear and I was totally gob smacked !

We did indeed sprinkle the water, like rain, around the garden and the remainder I shared with friends, for them to do the same in their gardens.

I have known for some time that water is a special element in that it stores memory. Think of flower & gem essences, as well as homeopathy, all three use fresh spring water as the base to store an energy pattern.

The energy from the Universal Egg, has I am sure had a positive effect on a three year old pear tree growing about about twenty feet away from the UE. For this year it has produced many extra large pears, the majority of them on the side of the tree nearest to the universal egg. (see photos)

DINOSAUR

Courtesy

Anybody else noticed that in the last few years that Common Courtesy has dwindled down to such an extent that it has now become virtually extinct .

I wonder if the new vogue of Political Correctness is to blame, or is it modern communications with all of its jargon. A ridiculous idea of course.

But what influence is it that has put a stopper on common courtesy that's what I would like to know ?

I do recall that twenty years ago it was the folks from the USA who having scrounged a holiday in our home, would return to theirs and nothing would be heard from them until they wanted to make a return visit.

Today I no longer entertain those whose manners are so poor that they cannot show a bit of honest decency and send greetings .

Another relevant grouse of mine is honesty, people are seemingly dishonest with themselves or is it that they have lost the ability to clearly state their desires.
Ask them a straight question and the reply is "I don't know I will let you know"

I am still waiting and have been waiting for a number of years for an honest answer
from one individual. Now don't run away with the idea that I have only ever asked them a simple uncomplicated question just the once. I do jog their memory from time to time.

I may very well be seen as an old dinosaur for sticking to my point of principles but am constantly fed up with the modern society that has its head up its arse !