Over the Moon

I found the Lonely Dog a home! Today is his last day alone in the yard. He won't need me hanging over the fence chatting to him or throwing in treats. His new family have already rescued a big Labrador and they have reared two boxers who lived long and happy lives. They also have an acre of land and kids who love dogs, so he will get lots of love and attention and play and space. It will all be very strange for him at first but I am sure he will adjust. Plus they've promised they will let me know how he settles. Now, back to work. The Book of Dreams will be out of the house by next week - yahoo!

Work and Play

Fairly pleased with myself these days as I seem to be managing a decent balance between work and play. This weekend saw the new Harry Potter movie with Tony. (Love driving around in his Merc convertible even though it gives me Bridget Jones hair. Real posh.) Contrary to Finn's opinion - "crap" - I thought the film was brilliant. I loved the way the two different kinds of wizards were shown in swirls of black dust and white dust. Then Sunday, headed up Lugnaquillia, the highest peak in the Wicklow Mountains range, with my hillwalking gang. It is, of course, a major setting in The Light-Bearer's Daughter, so shoot over to my Book Blog for the series of photos taken up there. I do believe I am getting the hang of my digital camera, though truth to tell, I just point and click. I usually can't see a thing in the viewfinder. Here's a fairy tree and a huge puddle of water, more like a small lake, which we passed on our way up.

More Firewalk Pics

Here's me walking towards my transformation, new work, and new life. With Kathleen, who is about to direct her first film, I walked for creative inspiration and courage. When it was time to walk for someone else, I walked for protection for Findabhair, my surfer daughter, as she surfs the waves of life. Don't be fooled by the grey colour which is caused by the flash. That path was sparkling red and sparking! But I didn't get a single "kiss" this time, from the embers.

Firewalk II

Yes, we were at it again, up in the Wicklow Mountains. Glen and Sherron facilitated as before. Here's the part where we pour oil over the wood, thinking of all the old stuff we want to burn away. Then the structure is set ablaze as we drum, dance, chant, chat, and think about what we want to "walk toward" as we cross the fire-path. When the structure collapses, Glen rakes the path and tamps it down with a shovel. And when he declares the firewalk open, we go!

King Rat

Okay, this one I don't feel bad about at all. Came into the living room this morning and found a BIG dead rat lying on the mat, thanks to the cat. No messing this time. Emma has redeemed herself. (Pat the cat for the rat on the mat.) And, no, it isn't a question of hygiene, excuse you, but the fact that these houses were built on a bog and all the rain is flushing everything up. Didn't call in The Men Friends this time, but woke up the Sleeping Teenager who is not as freaked out about such things. (That's my girl.) No complaints from her, since she owes me big time for shipping her off on a Spanish holiday tomorrow while I continue to work on my deadlines.

Bad Karma

I have the life of a small rat on my conscience. First Emma trapped it in the corner of the futon-sofa last night. I shut the door of the living room and left her to it as that seemed okay in the circle-of-life view of things. However, after a night of terror no doubt, the pur but clever cratur was still there this morning, jammed inside the wood frame and out of the cat's reach. Albeit guiltily, I stepped into the breach and hauled off the mattress part of the futon, screeching the whole time. (What is it with women and rodents? I mean, seriously, it's just automatic. Get on the chair and scream.) Anyway, bloody Emma, can she just kill it neatly and cleanly? No, she has to piss around and torture it playfully. (Don't get me started on the casual cruelty of life on this planet.) I could hear the shrieks in the kitchen where I was safely ensconsed on the chair. Next minute, silence. I check the scene. No dead rat. But a nonplussed dopey cat is staring at the radiator. Yes, the rat was jammed in behind it, once again out of reach. Time to call in the cavalry, i.e. The Men Friends. They can't come for over an hour, so I tell the rat - "this is your chance. The cat's upstairs. Here's a bit of cheese. The front door's open. You've got one hour to scarper." Alas, poor Yorick doesn't take the bait. The Men arrive with gloves, flashlight, and a horrible pincer thing. In bits, I hear the last death cries, thinking of Reechipeep. "Here, look at it," says one of the men in true man fashion. I knew I had to. I was responsible. A little body of fur and blood. I guess you have to be tough to live here, but I dream of a gentler place.

Brain Food

I'm re-reading Stan and Christina Grof's The Stormy Search for the Self. Dr Stanislav Grof was a pioneer in the study of LSD therapy, particularly its use with psychotic patients and those with terminal illnesses. He began his medical studies as an atheistic Marxist materialist and ended up - through clinical experiment, his own experiences in the laboratory, and his scientific practice - believing in a Divine presence in the universe and a mystical worldview. (That's some schlepp.) It's interesting that many of his case studies seemed to point to past life experience. I had a fascinating discussion on this subject with a writer friend earlier this week. We began talking about genetics and the amazing amount of information - not to mention the amazing kind of information - that is apparently being passed on through the genes, not only physical attributes but talents, dispositions, tendencies, passions etc. Michael suggested that past-life memories - and, indeed, any evidence of reincarnation - is, in fact, genetic memory. This reminded me of Sri Aurobindo's proposition that the next step in the evolution of humankind is cellular consciousness; the "Work" which the Mother and her pupil, Satprem, engaged in. Here's another thought. Is this what the Buddha knew? Is this what "awakening" is? Full and conscious access to what is encoded in our genes, i.e. all the knowledge and experience of life, the universe, and everything? I feel a shamanic novel coming on ...

Only in Ireland

Was at a barbecue birthday party last night in the mountains. Fabulous food cooked by Kathleen included butternut squash oiled and baked in the oven and served with olives and fromage frais, roast potatoes, yams, and stuffed vine leaves. The meat side, tended by John outdoors, included spare ribs, chicken, and beef sausage. Yes, this vegetarian bit the dust yet again. The rain held off till about 9:00 p.m. but when it arrived we just took out umbrellas and continued to sit around the bonfire till all hours of the morning. Every once in a while someone would say, "it's actually a grand night except for the rain."

Girl Pirates Ahoy!

Have a look at a new website set up by an enterprising and talented group of young women writers/actors/directors/performers, some of whom I have known since they were babbies: www.moonfishtheatre.com. I am hoping this play will come to the east coast of Ireland. It looks truly exciting. And what a life those two real-life pirate women led!