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Saturday Morning Thoughts

Saturday, March 16, 2013



Oh well on to what I said I was going to do today!!!!!



I have wasted much time this morning as when I sat down to write this.... an invisible wall stood in my path! There were nothing but false starts, ideas that fizzle on the page, observations that lay there like dead fish, the cursor flashing on the screen, taunting me, daring me to continue, the blank page a testament to a a blank mind and the mysteriously missing connection to what is going on at a feeling level! So I begin with the phrase, I do not want to write about.... I list the things I don't want to think about, those that I want to shun, and those that I want to step away from.

Now in recognizing just this....something hardened in my chest softened and was released. Sometimes we just have to stop and feel the heartbreak so that there is room to feel our own life again. In other words, simply allowing the sorrowfulness, we open to the possibility of feeling once again! This is what it is to be human: to learn again and again how to deal with loss; to trust the very way we are made, and knowing that joy is in the fullness of life-nothing left out!



Here is a verse from an old Irish poem in theirs and our tongues!

Cáintear na fileadha ( Men mock the poet for his want of wit,)
's ni hiad do bhionn cionntach; ( Yet not the poet's is the fault of it;)
Ni fachtar as na soighthighe (Out of a little vessel you'll not gain)
acht an Ián do bhios ionnta. ( More than a little vessel can contain.)

Irish Epigram



REMEMBER THEE Thomas Moore

Remember thee! yes, while there's life in this heart,
It shall never forget thee, all lorn as thou art,
More dear in thy sorrow, thy gloom, and thy showers,
Than the rest of the world in their sunniest hours.

Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free,
First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea,
I might hail thee with prouder, with happier brow,
But oh! could I love thee more deeply than now?

No, thy chains as they rankle, thy blood as it runs,
But make thee more painfully dear to thy sons -
Whose hearts, like the young of the desert bird's nest,
Drink love in each life-drop that flows from thy breast.

(from The Poetry and Song of Ireland)





THE ROSE OF TRALEE

William Pembroke Mulchinock (1820?-1864) composed this ballad. Living just outside of the village of Tralee, William fell in love with a girl who was a maid in one of the nearby houses. Since a romance with an Irish servant girl could hardly be tolerated by the Pembroke Mulchinocks, in no time at all William was sent to join a regiment in India.

And so the young man soldiered, his thoughts remaining on the girl he left behind. Three years passed before he returned to Tralee. As he came into the village, he saw a funeral procession passing down the street. It was the funeral of the girl he loved, who had died, it was said, of a broken heart. In the public park just outside of Tralee there is memorial to these ill-fated lovers. On the marble stone beneath a carved cross is this inscription: "To the memory of William Pembroke Mulchinock and the Rose of Tralee. She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer." 'Of Irish Ways' Mary Murray Delaney



THE ROSE OF TRALEE

The pale moon was rising above the green mountains,
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea,
When I stray'd with my love to the pure crystal fountain
That stands in the beautiful vale of Tralee.

She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer,
Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me,
Oh, no, 'twas the truth in her eyes ever beaming
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.
The cool shades of evening their mantle were spreading,
And Mary, all smiling, was list'ning to me.
The moon through the valley her pale rays was shedding
When I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.

Tho' lovely and fair as the rose of the summer,
Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me,
Oh, no, 'twas the truth in her eyes ever beaming
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.

from '1000 Years of Irish Poetry' edited by Kathleen Hoagland



TIPPERARY
Whether or not World War I soldiers knew the whereabouts of Tipperary, they knew what they meant by it. This anthem of a generation concludes 'For my heart lies there'. The song was written in 1912. One of the first to popularize it was Al Jolson. Among the countless recordings of it is one by John McCormack. Wandering, tramping, going on a pilgrimage; a complex of motifs related to such activities has recurred in Irish writing since Buile Suibhne. In the modern period, particularly, Irish writers great and small have made extensive use of one form or another of peregrination.



Tipperary: from the Irish Tiobraidarann:

The fountain of perception or enlightenment, intelligence

It's a long way to Tipperary,
it's a long way to go - and various.
It's a torture of twists, and about-turns,
disillusions, disappointments.
The way to Tipperary appears
perennially dark with only occasional twilight's.

If you decide to go to Tipperary
set out while you're young, plucky;
at that age when you're bright-eyed and visions
of radiant horizons of revelation and achievement
and you know nothing of twilight's or the dark;
that age when all creation, all life shines clear
as spring sunlight, bright as light-catching gold.

When you set out you must go alone.
There are no maps of the way to Tipperary.
Your only compass is your own heart. Trust that!
Some see their Tipperary clearly from the start;
see it's a long road, full of daily pitfalls,
a labyrinth of curious sidestreets, inviting,
guesthouses; giddy with the temptations
of those bogey people's trinket stalls'
hokeypokey - daily thieves of eternal energy -
easy come, easy go, you've sold your soul,
you've no more choice. They sell bedlam!

Explore all those sidestreets,
enjoy your chosen resthouses,
fool with a few trinkets to learn
something of the way to Tipperary.

The way to Tipperary darkened
with the shadows of all those
who never got there anyway;
those who settled for some resthouse,
some casual trinket thief of time.
Don't let those shadows,
mumbling in their own gloom,
deter or deviate you.
Hold to your main road. Keep going!

Once you've decided to go to Tipperary
you'll realise you no longer belong to yourself
but must keep Tipperary in your sights daily -
although you can't see it. Purpose is all.
Without your Tipperary you too are a mere shadow
at those Limerick Junctions of daily resolution.

On the way to Tipperary keep your eyes open
for signals of direction, encouragement:
that nod of understanding, comradeship,
a cherishing arm on your pillow. You'll see
beautiful sights on the way to Tipperary;
man's mirage tales, imagination's monuments.
You'll behold the endless vistas, panoramas
of vision. Be curious about them all
for the gracious gifts they will afford you.
Without them you'd live that much the poorer.

It's a long way to Tipperary
and when you get there
nothing awaits you. You'll find no roadsign,
no brassband and welcoming committee
with a proclaiming you're in Tipperary
and a medallion to hang around your neck.
You'll find only what you brought with you
in your heart.

Then, what you must do
is make and leave some record
of what your Tipperary means to you -
as witness for all those behind you
on their ways to their own Tipperaries.

It's a long way to Tipperary
But all our hearts lie there.

by Desmond O'Grady (1991)



"Laddle of Buchan"

Song Air - "Laddle of Buchan" 
translated from the Irish by J. J. Callanan



Awake thee, my Bessy, the morning is fair,
The breath of young roses is fresh on the air,
The sun has long glanced over mountain and lake -
Then awake from thy slumbers, my Bessy, awake.

Oh, come whilst the flowers are still wet with the dew -
I'll gather the fairest, my Bessy, for you;
The lark poureth forth his sweet strain for thy sake -
Then awake from thy slumbers, my Bessy, awake.

The hare from her soft bed of heather hath gone,
The coot to the water already hath flown;
There is life on the mountain and joy on the lake -
Then awake from thy slumbers, my Bessy, awake.



Whenever there is happiness
Hope you'll be there too,
Wherever there are friendly smiles
Hope they'll smile on you,
Whenever there is sunshine,
Hope it shine especially for you to make each day
for you as bright as it can be.




When the first light of sun-
Bless you.
When the long day is done-
Bless you.
In your smiles and your tears-
Bless you.
Through each day of your years-
Bless you.



May you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings, slow to make enemies, quick to make friends. But rich or poor, quick or slow, may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.

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  Member Comments About This Blog Post:

CAJUNBUCKEYE59 3/19/2013 6:57AM

    That kitten makes me so jealous, he sure looks like he is comfy...maybe that is what i need a cat suit to keep me all warm and snuggly...HUH? emoticon

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AWESOMECHELZ 3/16/2013 1:44PM

    Your blog brought tears to my eyes and I thank you. So beautiful! I especially felt deeply the story about the young girl dying of a broken heart. Whether it really happened that way or not, it doesn't matter since it is a very romantic story. I hope you are finding some peace this weekend with all that's going on with you. God bless you, Jean! emoticon emoticon emoticon emoticon Love, Chelsea

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SANDRALEET 3/16/2013 1:34PM

    May the love of God bless you and carry you trough all that is emoticon ahead

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NASFKAB 3/16/2013 12:24PM

  thqank you so much for writing all these lovely words

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CAT609 3/16/2013 12:08PM

    Wow, those were beautiful! Thanks for taking the time to write it all up! emoticon

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MOIRA2 3/16/2013 11:38AM

    Lovely blog, Thank you for taking the time and effort to post this. emoticon

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