Last day of October

My dear lovely Gint, fellow writer, fellow artist,

We have journeyed together through the month of October and succeeded in posting many interesting thoughts along the way. We did not do it every day as planned, but that in itself is cause for congratulations! I will explain.

There were times during this lovely month of October, when spoiled by the deliciously mild weather, that I arrived at my computer at the end of the day, exhausted. My eyes would literally fail me by the last few lines of certain blogs. I dreaded opening my laptop the following morning for fear of what I had written the night before. But thankfully, my sleepy self didn't fail me too badly.

So why should we be commended for not keeping to our challenge, you might ask. Well, my dear Gint, I see it like this: Life is bigger than our ambitions. Love whether self love or altruistic love should sometimes take precedence over our commitments. And that's what we did.

Yet, to our love of writing, we will return. It is a constant in my life. It unburdens my heart, diffuses my confusion, expresses my awe. It is playful, joyful and deep. Writing is who I am.

So, Gint, let's have coffee anyway. Let's celebrate being writers and above all being human.

Love,

Mary

Do it anyway!

I love when I can do something for nothing, something that is born of another realm beyond myself. Sometimes, it can be silly like jumping up to touch high branches as I jog along. Sometimes, it can be serious like accompanying a loved one to court. I don't know why I am doing these things. I don't feel compelled or obliged. I am just following an energy that flows through me.

I expect nothing. But I get so much back.

Whatever this urge is, it puts me in alignment and takes my thoughts away from my habitual patterns to something more like not thinking, something more like oneness.

Surprised by Fall

I looked down the street that was boarded with trees at different stages of maturity, all coniferous. A breeze arose. In that instant, the leaves took flight from the place they were born and where they had lived all the months since the early spring. In one great sweep they became a swirling creature of color. This brown, yellow, red and orange arch fell gracefully to the ground as another one took its place in the air. A little further up the street, another tree released its own flurry of color like a responding dance partner.

I stayed immobile for a while as a question formed in my mind, "who is this for?"

Then, " where is the bride?" "Where are the guests?"

I already heard the music. A wild mystical party was happening there before my eyes.

Magical Touch

I gave Andy a massage today. She was in pain. She's been in pain for a while now. She was sitting outside our kids' school on a bench. She couldn't laugh or breath deeply. Last week, she couldn't move her neck. I tried to touch her back a week ago and she screamed. At least I knew to touch her very gently.

There was a spot beside her shoulder blade and it was as if I could see a ball of energy stuck there. I rubbed it very gently. I rubbed around it. I rubbed a little deeper. She was moaning and groaning with pleasure. I felt energy rise in my own body and focused it into hers to help disperse the knots she had accumulated.

"No body ever does this for me," she muttered.

I know the feelings she is experiencing, how like magic a touch can release a brick load of stress and fear that is stored in our bodies. I wonder why someone else's touch is so much more efficient and pleasurable than our own.

I also realize that being the toucher is a beautiful sensation, that is evokes feelings of affection and connection to the person I am touching.

I spontaneously bent down and hugged her cheek to my cheek. And a very comfortable easy intimacy developed in such a public place.

I'm a One Man Woman (well, one at a time)!

When my first marriage broke up, I believe I was manic depressive. The whole world of this Irish Catholic girl was pulled from under my feet by my ex's infidelity. I did the usually grieving process, denial, anger, acceptance for about six years! I was twenty six years old and had two very young children. We attempted to save the relationship with therapy and an exotic holiday. But it was beyond salvaging.

I do admit that it was falling in love again that finally broke me away from this very toxic relationship. Years after our breakup, I still felt my ex was watching me and judging me. I felt his anger and it scared me until I began to heal myself.

I was determined to join the group "Divorced Catholics for Celibacy"! But that idea only lasted a few days. I was living in Paris after all!

Now, the French say that you get married because of lack of experience, you divorce because of lack of patience and you remarry because of lack of memory! But I have to say that my second marriage was completely different from my first. It was more grounded, more peaceful and richer in quality. But it too has come to an end after many attempts at saving it. My family and friends have been very patient with all our on's and off's. They have given up all commentary!

Where do I stand now? I have been very down on love and then up again. I have philosophized about it, generalized about it, researched it and now I am trying to trust it wherever it leads.

As I was chatting online one day this week, I noticed a quotation beside the chat box. It said, "for those of you who have given up on love, trust life just a little bit" (Maya Angelou)

If I can say one thing about my own experiences with monogamy is this: Stop taking it so seriously!

The Cherries and the Pie

My writing teacher used to say that if you can't think of anything to write about, to write about the fact that you don't have anything to write about.

Maybe the reason for this blankness is that I am doubting myself these days. (Yeah right, "these days", when do I not doubt myself?) Okay then, I'm having different doubts than usual! Great a new one! I am doubting that I will get to do everything I want to do before I die. I am doubting the image I have of myself in my head. I am doubting my urge to keep trying to do new things.

Then an image pops into my head, well two images, one from the past and one from the present. The one from the past is of a little boy from my home town, who was bullied very day as a kid. I only learned of this recently. It turns out that my own sister was bullied by the same person and I never knew. It makes me sad for them and everyone who is bullied, the fear, anxiety and pain they were subject to. How small and vulnerable they must have felt.

The other image is of my nieces, nephews and my own children dancing in sequence in my house this evening, smiling and laughing. And doing the routine quite well. I felt privileged to be a part of this scene and was drawn in even more because of the imprint in my mind of the image of the skinny little red head who was been bullied every day, perhaps as I passed him by.

I vowed to be more conscious of all the children around me and to fill each exchange with more vigilance, more care and of course, my favourite, more love.

In the end, what does it matter what I do or don't do, how I look or don't look to myself or others, what I write or don't write? They are only the cherries on the pie. The pie is awareness and love.

Do less. Play more.

I love being alone, doing my own thing. I like being in my own company. I have a great time with myself. If the world was made of Marys I'd never be bored.

But I'd probably never grow very much either.

What others help me to see sometimes are the parts of me that I don't like.

My four year old did this to me today.

I was very pleased with myself at the start of the day. Everything was in divine order according to the sacred laws of the Mary mind. Then at the last minute before walking out the door to take the kids to school, Aoife put the breaks on. I walked out to the car and started it, turned it around in the driveway and finally send my nine year old into the house to get the little brat.

About five minutes later he emerged saying he couldn't find her. I went in and searched for another five minutes. At this point we were already then minutes late. Finally, I stood very still in her bedroom and listened. I heard her breathing and followed the very faint sound. She was hiding behind her bed. Well, I was so angry with her, mostly because she had refused to answer me.

She was just playing a prank on me. But I was already stressed, so I didn't appreciate it.

I do tend to do too much for my kids. This situation is just my own behavior biting me in the ass! The antidote is to try to do less for the kids but play more with them.

Well, I'm going with that anyway!