Blessing for the path
I didn’t know, when I went to Ireland, that my primary reason for going was to visit John O’Donohue’s grave. Who could know such a thing?…
The sky above my mother’s house
If healing means to make whole, as Michael Meade claims, then what part of me is missing? I have a hole in my chest a mile…
What kind of stories do we need right now?
Carrie Snyder offers an invitation: Find a sunflower. Hold it in your hands. Ask it a question. Listen to the questions it asks you. Carrie’s sunflower…
My Christmas prayer
In my last post I shared my deep resonance with Michael Leunig’s prayer. Today, it being Christmas morning with its promise of birth, I find myself…
My most difficult child
One of the most welcome parts of my everyday is Robyn Gordon’s beautifully curated posts. Robyn is a South African artist with a gift for finding…
Ogham treasure in Athlone’s Bastion Gallery
The same way triple spirals pulled me to a locked gallery door, a mysterious force drew me inside the Bastion Gallery in Athlone. Just like the…
Guided along a spiral path
Our Saturday in Dublin dawned without a hint of the magic about to unfold. LW and I made coffee, ate our Dunnes store breakfast of bread,…
Triple spirals: Magical, simple, complex
Chris and I loped up the hill toward the burial mound along with forty or fifty other tourists – T’s, as we referred to them, laughing…
My Irish times
One of my favourite Ferron songs goes like this: All the world can love you save for one And I don’t know why it is that…
For the novel not yet written
This morning I rolled out of bed, grabbed a pen and blank paper, lit the fire, poured a coffee, and wrote a novel. Okay, I didn’t…