In Ireland it’s easy to spend a lot of time looking down. Protecting ourselves from the elements is vital. Shielding our eyes from the rain and blasting wind is paramount, especially when it’s too windy for an umbrella (which is more often than not!).

So on those days where the rain and wind are quiet and the sun peeks through we all look UP. We look up and soak in that precious shine, and heat, and vitamin D. And it’s good!

We look UP, soak in the light, and everything feels a bit brighter.

I’m so glad I can see colour. I’m so thankful there is color in this world for us to see.

In February I was fortunate to be able to visit Malta for a Creative’s Retreat. We spent time together creating and sharing our art. It was really great to have artist’s from different mediums together. It enhanced and challenged my thinking and perspective.

Malta is an island in the Mediterranean Sea south west of Italy. It’s an independent country and part of the EU. It feels like no where else I’ve been in the Europe. With multiple European and North African influences, the palette of Malta reflects all these cultures with beautiful mixes of boldness and subtlety. Sandstone, the most common stone, and used in many buildings, is a beautiful BLOND, TAN colour. It’s very different from the damp GREY stone so commonly seen in Ireland. There are also bright bursts of color in doorways, windows, walls and a miscellany of other things.  The Sea was so BLUE and the fields were already blooming GREEN.When we arrived these colours struck me. It felt bright (and warm!). It’s the sunniest place in the European Union and you could feel it. A welcome change from the freezing temps we’d been experiencing in Ireland. 

We soaked up the sun and the change of scenery.

Each day we had contrasting word themes to inspire us as we went around and experienced the islands (Malta and Gozo). There was writing, photography, painting and inspiration. There are more things to share about this experience than I will be able to here. But here’s a few more:

Eventually the week ended and we flew home to Ireland. I found it striking how several of us, at different moments, individually commented as we looked out the window at our own very, GREY, yet very, GREEN country, and said “What would we do without the green?!” and “At least we have all this green.”

Sometimes it only takes a few days to make you appreciate something you forget to see.

Beautiful Home

For a significant portion of my teen years my brother was not around.                          Addiction introduced itself to Roger. They got involved, really involved.                        Things changed.                                                                                                                      It was hard.                                                                                                                              A couple of times it was scary.                                                                                               It was definitely messy.                                                                                                            I was 16 at the height of things. My baby sister was 6.                                                           It was hard – for everybody.

Eventually Roger found a sub-culture he seemed to fit in. For a few years he would visit from time to time when he passed through town.
He met my first son as a newborn and held him so gently and carefully, being aware he wasn’t the cleanest. It meant a lot to me that he came to meet my son and hold him.

Being himself, he would tell us wild stories of the adventures he had. They were never dull. At the same time you could see there were many more stories that went untold simply because they were painful and we became, whether real or perceived, too distanced to relate or even make the attempt.
For a majority of the time since they met, addiction stayed involved.                                  He tried hard, over and over but it’s grip was strong.

Eventually, his addictions caught up with him.

An overdose…revived at the scene…vegetative…1,177 miles from his birthplace…surname given…family contacted…days…decisions…waiting…

I had a brother.
His name was Roger.
He died on April 2, 2004.
I was 26 1/2 years old when he died.                                                                                        I will remember life without him now and wonder what may have been.                                He was my annoying little brother. He liked to push my buttons like little brothers do.

I miss him. Especially today.

The Writing Room

There are a few more things I am excited to share about this space but that will have to wait for now…

I’ll be seeing you in The Writing Room from now on.

But by no means are things here, or YOU, forgotten!

So, back to The Drafts.

On a very happy note, I’ve submitted a short story to two journals. Now I will wait the 11-12 weeks to hear a reply. Since it’s the first I’ve done this I’m holding things very loosely. Mostly I needed to do it to have the experience of submitting a creation of mine for unknown eyes to read (and evaluate). That’s worth a lot to me no matter what the outcome!

Today I’m going to share the opening of a short story I’m working on. It’s very new and it’s already been causing me a lot of tension. I’m hoping that’s because it’s going to be important. Again, time and putting in the effort will tell. 

It still needs a name. Leave a comment giving your suggestions! It will be a challenge with just this little peek but that will make it all the more fun!

Also, tell me what you see when you read it. What do you imagine the main character to be like? What does the apartment look like? Where do you think the story is headed?

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He didn’t need anyone to lay next to him most nights. His heart was full. It didn’t matter if she was near or far. It didn’t even matter that she didn’t know this. He loved her. And each day of doing that was enough to fill him for the next. Sarah was the most beautiful creature. She was strong and virulent. She felt things greatly and inside out she was wonderful. There was nothing about her Luck didn’t love. Each day with her made him a better person; more whole, more complete. He would never forget the day he met her. She’s been walking down the road. He’d been walking down the road at the same time and came upon her since he’d been walking faster than her. They both turned to go into the coffee shop to their left. She’d gotten to the door first and was attempting to open it. He’d been able to reach out and hold the door for her.

“Well, aren’t you the Renaissance man. It’s not like I need you to do that for me or anything,” she’d said. He had smiled and she walked right through the open door.

That day had changed everything for him. Was it love at first sight? He wasn’t sure. But he was sure he was now different now. It was at that moment that he’d felt himself start to become more himself. His true self, there all along, but had lain stagnant since the times he’d had to set it aside to survive. Sarah was fire. Or better put, she was the heat source.

Stretching Luck got out of bed, pushed the curtains open and opened every window in the apartment. He loved morning air. It was the first air, the freshest air. Humming along as he went, he showered, dressed.

“What the hell Luck!”, His roommate said coming into the kitchen, “It’s freezing in here! Close some of those damn windows!”

“Don’t you just love the first air in the morning?”

“Ooooh No!” We are NOT having this conversation again! Close the damn windows before we all freeze to death!” James said as the door to the bathroom closed behind him.

Making some toast for himself he took in the sun streaming in the windows. It wasn’t sunny everyday but when it was the apartment lit up inside. It was sunny the day he’d viewed the apartment and was probably the main reason he’d bought it. He finished his toast and then for James’ sake, he closed the windows. All but the one right outside the bathroom door.

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Talk to me in the comments!

See you there!

Lost in the Details: Macro

While each branch and leaf tell a story themselves, looked at in the whole, this scene dances with detail and delight (and alliteration)

Getting low tells a whole new kind of story. The minute speaking quiet volume.

The Burren Flower – Micro

The Flowery Burren – Micro

I like how these the focus of these two photos emphasise different elements of the same story.

In looking through my photos this week I have realised that I:

1. Like to look up. This doesn’t surprise me as I am a big picture sort of person. It’s pretty obvious all the way down to my preference for macro economics over micro if I had to pick one. (Although economics is not what I want to pick at all really!)

2. Even when I do get low in taking photographs I could still go lower. I wonder what this photo could have been like had a gotten even closer…

If I had gotten below the flowers to look up, or even gotten within them instead of looking at them, I wonder how it’s perspective would’ve changed and what we would have heard and seen differently from it.

I’m taking this as a challenge to get lower down in my photographs and see just how big things can become. I want to appreciate more of the “micro” things in life.

Did any of you find a similar challenge with The Weekly Photo Challenge? I’m so interested to hear if you did!

On a side note: if you have a chance today head over to The Improvised Life and have a look at the Irish surfing video. It’s pretty spectacular. So is The Improvised Life.

Becoming white

The room was formerly a greyish blue. It was soothing, but for me it was too cool. With all the grey outside I need things to be bright and I’m in love with the idea of bright splashes of colour. The above photo is after the first coat of white paint. It will need at least one more coat, maybe two.

Sky blue ceiling

I’m pretty excited about the ceiling. I’ve never painted a ceiling before. I’ve seen photos and read up on how dark ceilings can bring a big room down (no problem with that situation here) and light ceilings can lift small spaces. I thought it would be pretty cool if I could make the ceiling look like the sky. I picked a really light sky blue. (The actual name!) and went for it. I’m really happy how it’s turned out. When the light hits it it gets lighter and the hues look like a morning sky. Big smile here!

The scallop design on the walls is a reflection from the ugly lamp shade in the centre of the room. It needs to go even though the reflection is kind of fun.

So there you have it. A peek into my writing room. It’ll take me a few weeks to get it in working order but I’ll put up some more pics once I do.

Matthieu Chardon’s video just did that for me. It’s made up of time-lapse sequences but truly it’s made up of so much more. It really captures the history and a heartbeat of Dublin.

It was striking. The stillness in the movement and the changes in the constant.

All at once. Separate. Together.

Watch it and think about it. (I promise. It’s short. And lovely.) Tell me about it. Do you know Dublin? Have you been there? If you haven’t been yet, what did you see? Or if film and media are your thing, tell me what you saw in the film. What was your one beautiful thing?

(yes, the clouds really move that fast. and yes, they are there most of the time)

I’ve been spending every day since Friday trying to come up with something that isn’t the typical depiction of love. It’s really hard to do that! So far I’ve got….

Nothing.

I’m not happy about that.

I am happy I have so many things and people that I do love in my life. So back to the Weekly Photo Challenge. What to do…what to do…

Here are a few things I love:

I love imagination.

Hello!

I love a challenge.

I love rocks!

Burren, Co. Clare

I love paths not taken,

and the ones that are.

I love accidental beauty.

Inis Mor Aran Islands

I love touching history.

and of course I love my guys.

Here are some thoughts to start your day.

I wrote this last night in pen. I finished the last line this morning when I woke up.

“Today I will write for myself. If the world happens to look over my shoulder and see it, I will smile, for I have friends. And if no one ever sees or knows of its existence, I will also smile, because with words, I am never alone.”

I hope that there is something that speaks to you similarly in your own life. If there is, or if there isn’t, tell me about it. Leave a comment and we’ll have a chat.