" And the down-turn of his wrist, When the flies drop in the stream; A man who does not exist,"

The Fisherman - William Butler Yeats

Although I can see him still.
The freckled man who goes
To a grey place on a hill
In grey Connemara clothes
At dawn to cast his flies,
It's long since I began
To call up to the eyes
This wise and simple man.
All day I'd looked in the face
What I had hoped 'twould be
To write for my own race
And the reality;
The living men that I hate,
The dead man that I loved,
The craven man in his seat,
The insolent unreproved,
And no knave brought to book
Who has won a drunken cheer,
The witty man and his joke
Aimed at the commonest ear,
The clever man who cries
The catch-cries of the clown,
The beating down of the wise
And great Art beaten down.
Maybe a twelvemonth since
Suddenly I began,
In scorn of this audience,
Imagining a man,
And his sun-freckled face,
And grey Connemara cloth,
Climbing up to a place
Where stone is dark under froth,
And the down-turn of his wrist
When the flies drop in the stream;
A man who does not exist,
A man who is but a dream;
And cried, "Before I am old
I shall have written him one
poem maybe as cold
And passionate as the dawn.'Don't why I put that poem in today, it's been in my mind all day and I can't figure out why. Well, anyway on a more important topic.. I finish my current job tomorrow, as you may have read around a month ago I had handed in my notice, and as month has passed, I'm off tomorrow, just one more day.
In some ways I suppose I'll this place, the people, the familiar broken printer, the queue at the coffee machine, even the vending machine that never seems to be filled, it's always half empty, no matter how much is taken out of it it's still only half empty, never full either. It's the little things you miss about a place I think.

But I am looking forward to the new job with great anticipation, and I'll admit a little apprehension, I am under no illusions, I know it will be hard, damned hard. I know I will work long hours working into the evening both in the office and at home for at least the first year. But I wanted to keep moving, I'm far to young to allow the moss settle on this stone just yet. I intend to keep rolling up hill for a while yet. There's a deal of work to be done, and not enough time to it, there's a lot of responsibility to be shouldered, but that why you get paid more. I learnt a long time ago that money and responsibility go together. You can't get one without the other. Some people prefer to let others make the tough decisions, work through the difficult choices, while they sit back and wait to be told what to do, some people like that. The firm, solid instruction, all laid out, 'here's what you do...', no stress of trying to figure it out, no worry trying to organize other people's holidays, who works on what project, which one to give priority too. As the old adage goes.."the buck stops here", well I've decided to take that step and take on that mantle, if something screws up it's my screw up alone and I must take the brunt of it, if something goes well it's a great team effort.

To be honest I suppose I'm looking forward to it, I've spent years watching people criticize 'the Boss' giving a million reasons why they could have done things better, yet I noticed in all this they never stepped up and took responsibility on themselves. While responsibility is a burden, the extra wage is definitely a welcome compensation, hopefully it will allow me to clear my debts quicker and afford to meet all my commitments without the constant worry of whether or not I'll be able to afford petrol for the coming week. An extra 11,000 a year (before tax) is a lot of money to me. I think sacrificing a years worth of leisure time is well worth it, I'm only 28, I can easily afford to miss out on 1 years worth of evenings, after that it should have settled down, I can move into a single role on higher money and start to have a life again. I just hope I'm strong enough to do it. I learnt long ago the secret to talking yourself into any job is confidence, if someone asks me "Do you think you can do this job?" my answer will be "No, I know I can do this job". Change is good. T he Dalai Lama said "Change is the only constant" I tend to agree. Another great man's opinion, Charles Darwin: "It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change.





I felt like throwing in a few photo's here, the first three are of Connemara, a region in the west of Ireland, renown for it's traditional people, homes, culture and beauty. The last two, in order of appearance are Powerscourt waterfall in Wicklow and lastly the Waterfall at Glencarr, you will have seen referenced in a previous blog entry. This waterfall is mentioned in Yeats' poem 'The Stolen Child'


Slán leat,
Concúbhair O' Nuamain

"Who brings a tale takes two away. ~Irish Proverb"

I like that proverb, unfortunately it's a very true one in Ireland. We love to talk, we love have a bit of news to tell. It shows in many of our greetings - "Whats the story?" - Used as a general Hello, "An bhfuil án scéal agat?" - Have you any news, these are heard often in different sides of Ireland. The sad part of it is that many people are happy to spread rumour, usually false, just to have 'a bit of news'. In the Terry Pratchett book - "The Truth" one of 'bad guys' has a favourite quote I quite like, though it is a little depressing.. "A lie will travel around the world before the truth has got it's boots on".

In my locale a new Pharmaceutical company has begun construction a huge facility, that has and will create thousands of jobs, they announced a delay a month ago and straight away, it began, the inevitable rumour mill. As elections are approaching the usual conniving scumbags, oh I appologise, I believe the technical term is 'Politicians', have begun to try and use this to their electoral advantage. Opposition parties, who were furious that Amgen announced that they would open here, have now decided to spread the blatantly false and fictional rumour that Amgen are now pulling out, and it is of course the Governments fault, as someone who works in the industry and directly with the project I know that this is false, and merely a political manouvre made out of desperation to try to get a vote, how pathetic. I am no huge fan of our current government, however, at present there doesn't seem to be any real alternative. I mean even the idea of voting for the deceivers and liars who are causing great worry and strain to those depending on the Amgen project for their livelihood, would turn my stomach. If they would lie to us like this to 'trick' people into voting for them, what would they do given the power to run the country? I dread to think.

"Oh, where is the poet or bard who will compose an ode to Russian rumours? Thanks to the chronic shortage of truthful (or even false) information, our people live on rumours. " - Boris Yeltzen

Now that I've had my rant, I do appologise for inflicting it on you, but sometimes you just need to get that kind of thing off your chest, on to a more pleasant subject.


Summer is coming fast, it already feels like it here, clear skies everyday for the last two weeks, hot weather, cool breezes, blazing sunshine.. As a biker, naturally I love this weather, it's heaven on earth. As an Irish man I love this weather, it's so unusual for us here, if this is global warming, I'm going to buy a 4 litre V12 SUV. I am of course joking. Global warming is a very serious subject not to taken lightly, as such I'll not take it at all in this post. I'm feeling to light hearted today to be bothered with any soul searching and deep meaningful entries here. I'm in my office, even though I'm only wearing a light cotton shirt, I'm still absolutely roasting, I love it.

I used to work as a 'camp coordinator' for one of the tour groups that brings the many tens of thousands of Italian students here every summer. I loved that job, all summer I'd spend playing sports, singing songs, outdoors in the sun, It's the songs I remember most one that seems to epitomize summer for me ever since was one of those we tried to teach the students, it's actually not a song, it's a poem by W.B. Yeats, but it was put to an old Irish tune and now is known the world over as an Irish folk song. It's called 'The Sally Gardens'...


The Sally Gardens

It was down by the Sally Gardens my love and I did meet
She crossed the Sally Gardens with little snow-white feet
She bid me take love easy as the leaves grow on the tree
But I was young and foolish and with her did not agree

In a field down by the river my love and I did stand
And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand
She bid me take life easy as the grass grows on the weirs
But I was young and foolish and now am full of tears

Down by the Sally Gardens, my love and I did meet
She crossed the Sally Gardens with little snow-white feet
She bid me take love easy as the leaves grow on the tree
But I was young and foolish and with her did not agree


Well, not one of my more profound posts certainly, but a reflection of my mood at the moment. I feel lazy and peaceful, the sun does that to me here. I find few places I've ever visited abroad to be quite as beautiful as my native soil in the sun.

Slán Leat mo chara,
Concúbhair O'Nuamain

" It's the friends you can call up at 4 a.m. that matter. "

It's the friends you can call up at 4 a.m. that matter. - Marlene Dietrich


The picture to the left is of a hand painted Ogham Script, the word written is Friendship. Ogham is an ancient script dating to roughly the first century, based on an older script 'leaf' script. It was usually carved into stone, standing stones with Ogham inscriptions can be found all over the Irish countryside.

Friendship means a lot to me, I have been blessed with the most wonderful friends. Most people are lucky if they can count their true friends on one hand. I need two hands to count mine. The Marlene Dietrich quote above is funny, but true, a true friend is someone you can call at any time day or night and know they will be there for you no matter what. I endeavour to be as good a friend as I can to others. When I look back over the years I lose count of the number of times my true and closest friends have been there for me when I most needed them. I can honestly say I have never been alone in an hour of need.

I felt the need to speak of friendship today for a reason. Two of my closest friends, a wonderful loving, caring couple, fantastic parents, and friends that are as close to me as my own family, have been going through a terrible ordeal for the second time. They mean so much to me I want to be there for them as they have been for me whenever I've needed them, but in this I am helpless. Two and a half years ago, this couple had a son ,born after only 26 weeks pregnancy. Terribly premature, I won't go into details but you can imagine no doubt the fear, the pain and trials they suffered. This little guy however surprised everyone, parents, friends and doctors alike, he took after his father and was quiet a little fighter. He is two and half now, a constant joy to be around, highly intelligent and sings from dawn to dusk. I Can't describe how wonderful it is to see him bouncing around, or to hear him reciting tolkien's songs, yes I said Tolkien. He knows some of the songs from the Lord Of the Rings books, as I said, highly intelligent.

In the early hours of Monday morning, 16th, they have had another son, born once again 2 and half months premature. The same as his older brother. Life can be so unfair, how such torment can be cast on the same people again is beyond me. It breaks my heart to see them going through this again. I don't know how to be there for them in this. I don't want to be bothering them, as that is the last thing they need right now, but as a friend I feel so helpless that I can't help, that I can't make it all better. It leaves me gutted to stand helplessly by. I can only imagine how helpless they feel. They are in my thoughts and prayers constantly, but I believe in this little guy, he's like his daddy too, he's a fighter, he's tough. If thoughts and prayers are all I can send for now, then that is what I shall send, every waking minute.




Cirdan

In the faintest glimmerings, of light before the dawn,
'Neath the shadow of the Holy Cross, looking down above Clonmel,
Impatient in the womb, out came an leanbh bán,
Made his entrance to the world, with sound of alarm and bell,
A show man, an attention seeker, a little boy not shy,
Brave but tiny Cirdan, made not a wail nor cry.

Two leagues to the north, of the dolmen at Knockeen
Stands the city home to Maeghar, where first they flew the flag,
Twas here that Cirdan journeyed, through forest and boreen,
The Morrigan close behind him, he faced down banshee and hag,
Sheilded and Safe was he, from such divilments as those,
Cerridwyn stood between her namesake, and any of his foes.

So I write these words for Cirdan, a fighter born and bred,
Though the tale is yet unfinished, his future yet unsure,
Cirdan the Blessed Poet, now lies upon his bed,
Dreaming ancient dreams, on the banks of the river Suir,
My thoughts are with you Cirdan, as they are with your parents,
sláinte mhaith ar leanmh sin, and a cure for all your ailments.


By Concúbhair O' Numaín


*The second Picture is of the original Brigid's Well in Kildare (Brigid the Celtic Goddess not the Saint)

"For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand."

The Stolen Child

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scare could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.


By William Butler Yeats



I love that poem, passionately. I've always been a great lover of Irish mythology, music, culture and language. I have been a traditional Irish musician, I've sung ballads and played reels, I've caressed the skin of my bodhrán with with a soft Cipín to most most haunting of tunes. The heroes of my childhood were not Jack Charlton, Maradona, Pele, or Ray Houghton, the giants I adored and sought to emulate were Cúchulain, Fionn, Lúgh, Fergus, the heroes of Irish mythology. How many times I lived through the Táin in my imagination. I hunted with the Red Branch Knights, and raced through the forests with the Fianna ne'er a twig cracking under foot.

I have a great CD at home of the Waterboys, it's the Fisherman Blues album, and I tended to listen mostly to only a handful of songs on it, until recently in a friends house (Thanks Sibylle) I heard the last track played in a candle lit room, The Stolen Child. The music is perfect, the voice narrating the poem through it is so Irish, so nostalgic and mystic, I believe it is the voice of the Traditional Irish Singer Tomas McKeown, I may be wrong. If you have never heard that song, buy it, go to Itunes or wherever and get a copy. Sit in a darkened room, preferably dimly lit by a single small candle or just the flames dancing in the hearth.... and play that song.. It is haunting, and the best rendition of Yeats works I have yet to hear.

The poem itself is reminiscent of a part of Ireland that many Irish are leaving behind, in a countries hunger for money, progress and opportunity it has forgotten something, something that has been a part or our culture, our history for millenia. The mystic, the magic and wonder, the Sidhe, the Good People, the tales and legends that built a proud people into a proud nation. Oh I know, that these tales and stories, these songs and poems aren't exactly the stuff of biology class, you won't learn of them in any factual subject in schools now. Do they exist? Did they ever? Well, who knows. I'd like to believe they do, I think it would make the world a more wonderful place to live in, sometimes I think the world could do with a little less science and a little more magic.


The Hosting Of The Sidhe


The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare;
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away:
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
Our breasts are heaving our eyes are agleam,
Our arms are waving our lips are apart;
And if any gaze on our rushing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and the hope of his heart.
The host is rushing 'twixt night and day,
And where is there hope or deed as fair?
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away.

By William Butler Yeats


Slán Leat,

Concúbhair

"A poet can survive everything but a misprint." - Oscar Wilde

The Planters Daughter
Austin Clarke

When night stirred at sea,
An the fire brought a crowd in
They say that her beauty
Was music in mouth
And few in the candlelight
Thought her too proud,
For the house of the planter
Is known by the trees.

Men that had seen her
Drank deep and were silent,
The women were speaking
Wherever she went
As a bell that is rung
Or a wonder told shyly
And O she was the Sunday
In every week.

I've always loved that poem, it always comes to mind when I hear the Damien Rice song "The Blowers Daughter" they both have a similar simplistic beauty to them. I remember back in the early 90's in school, as our class dismembered Austin Clarke's works with inexpert tools, leaving his poetry hopelessly mutilated and devoid of beauty and meaning. It was years later I began to read those works with renewed passion. Unfortunately the education in literature given to the youth of the Land of Yeats, Wilde, Swift and Joyce is severely lacking in the most important aspect. We never learnt to appreciate the beauty of the pieces we studied. We accepted them as dissembled building blocks, we were thought to block out the woods and see only the trees. What a depressing way to see Art. I wonder if Monet or Van Gogh's works were taught in school would they teach you to dissemble the works and look to see what the paints were made of, what type of canvas was used, and where the frame was crafted, rather than to see the artists vision as he or she intended.

I was taught to see the metaphors and to learn off the Board of Educations view on what Austin Clarke meant by "They say that her beauty, Was music in mouth". That phrase conjures a beauty merely by the flow and sounds as they curl around your mouth, the phonetics are far more beautiful than any amount of metaphors or technical devices.

I watched as my class cavity searched Yeats, 'translated' Shakespeare, and argued over whether Joyce was artistic or merely long winded. It was depressing to be honest. How an amateur with a three year Arts degree could decide she knew what a Poet intended you to see in his poetry, though the said poet could be dead 50 years before she was born and had never written down anywhere what he had meant his poem to be seen as. I sincerely hope at some stage the Dept Of Education here wake up and realise they have pushed an entire generation away from the literature of our Nation by their blundering and ineptitude.

I'm going to drop in a more modern lyrical artists work here, mentioned above, Damien Rice.. the song is repetitive and simple, and I think that is part of what makes it so beautiful. If you've never heard it, go and buy it, download, beg, steal or borrow it. It is well worth listening to.

"The Blowers Daughter"

And so it is
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
Most of the time
And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky

I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes...

And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze
Most of the time
And so it is
The colder water
The blower's daughter
The pupil in denial

I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes...

Did I say that I loathe you?
Did I say that I want to
Leave it all behind?

I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind...
My mind...my mind...
'Til I find somebody new



I'm going to leave off writing about my weekend for now, it will be long, though not as long and arduous as the weekend, but I'm tired and my work calls, so for now I will say;

"We part only to meet again
Though mighty boundless waves may sever
Remembrance shall bring thee near
And I shall go with thee forever
And often at midnight's silent hour
When brilliant planets guide the ocean
Thy name shall rise to highest stars
And mingle with my soul's devotion."

That comes from a Story written by Tani Jantsang, it is translated from Arabic. (Some contend that it was written by Edgar Allen Poe - This is unlikely, the author is unknown, See http://www.geocities.com/we_part/index.html for more information).


Till next time,
Concúbhair

"I took the one less traveled by,"

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert frost

I don't know why, but I felt like reading that poem this morning. I suppose in this time of change in my life, new job, new outlook on my health, it's spring a time for rebirth and renewing things, I felt that poem had some significance. "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by,". And it has indeed made all the difference. When I look back over my life, I have taken a less traveled by road, even if I go right back, back to when I finished school. Unsure of what to do, of what I wanted to do with my life. Well, to be honest I was sure, I was more unsure of how to do it. I wanted to entertain, I wanted to sing or act, to perform.

I started my career in a hotel as a barman and Night porter, not a very artistic beginning I know, but it was full time work, and gave me the time I needed off to study classical guitar. But something interrupted that, a year into my studies (Part time study, full time work) I went to an audition, for a band being put together by a well known music 'guru'. I was surprised and pleased to find I had gotten picked out of the thousands who had applied to join this band. I will admit to a moment or ten of pride over that, even now I feel pride that I was there, you can take away what a man has, or what he's going to have, you can never touch what he has already had. I have a past I can look back upon and feel pride. All men should, nothing could be more depressing than live as in Robert Frosts famous line:
"And nothing to look backward to with pride, and nothing to look forward to with hope. "

The band did ok, we toured Ireland with the 2FM 'Beat on the street' festival, we appeared on TV a few times. I loved it, that moment when you walk out on stage, the walk from the wings to the microphone is terrifying, the music starts, you strum on your guitar, your throat dries up, and then, then you start to sing and it all goes away. All the doubt, the fears, the anxieties, all of it seems as nothing, a fallen leaf blown away in the wind of your song. The greatest moment of my life was Singing the opening line to Daydream believer and having nearly 30,000 people sing the next line back to me in Dublin. I found it hard to keep tears from eyes that day. But that was all just the beginning, as these things tend to go, our moment in the sun went. Two of us left the group, it was heartbreaking at the time, yet I can honestly say I have no regrets, I did what was best for me at the time, and it worked out rather well. I needed work so I got a job in a music store. A friend suggested I apply to the company where he worked, he pulled a favour or two and got me in. That was the real start of the path that lead me to here, where I am now. If I had not taken the road less traveled by, I would have done the whole college, degree, job cliché. Who knows where I would be now, but I would not be here, and I am glad that I am.

That one new job in a factory in Kildare completely altered the path of life forever, changed the direction I took, even changed where I live, for the career it led me into brought me to the south coast of the country where I live now. I would advise anyone to take the 'road less traveled by' who knows where it might lead you. For me it had led to a beautiful home by the sea, and now a job that pays rather well. Everything in my life seems to be falling into place really, bit by bit. Funny how a Robert Frost poem brought all that to my mind.
In ending this post I will leave you with another of his poems, probably one of my top ten favorite poems of all time. Enjoy.


Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


Slán leat,
Concúbhair

"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live" - Dorothy Thompson

For those who don't know, Dorothy Thompson was a journalist in Germany in 1934, a brave woman, indeed the first American to be expelled from Germany before the war. In her own words: "My offense was to think that Hitler was just an ordinary man, after all. That is a crime in the reigning cult in Germany, which says Mr. Hitler is a Messiah sent by God to save the German people— an old Jewish idea. To question this mystic mission is so heinous that, if you are a German, you can be sent to jail. I, fortunately, am an American, so I was merely sent to Paris. Worse things can happen." Dorothy Thompson knew a lot about fear, she saw it build in a worried people in Germany, people who had suffered for decades since the First World War. She saw how fear covered their eyes and allowed Hitler to rise to power. A powerful force indeed is fear.

I thought it about time I included a picture of me on my blog. So here it is, I've also uploaded it into my profile.
As you may have noticed I have taken to starting my blog entries with a quote or two. I try to find a quote that is related to that which I wish to speak of, and one that has inspired me in my life. And this one from Ms Thompson certainly has had an effect on me, it is something I think we all can relate to at some stage of our life. Fear, it steals your life from you, as she says we cannot live with it. I have been afraid recently, to lay some history on this story I must go back to a little over a year ago..

In February of 2006 I got quite sick, violently so, for several days, I am, as any who know me will tell you, not a person who is overly fond of visiting doctors. I have had asthma since I was 2 years old, and so feel the Doctor visits I require for that, are plenty for anyone. But this time I felt something was not right, this was not a bug, or some case of minor food poisoning that I could allow to pass. After some blood tests, they found that my liver function was not good, infact it was downright bad, I'm not a heavy drinker but I do like a beer now and then, or a glass or two of wine with a meal. After several more blood tests, two visits to a specialist and an Gastro Endoscopy (Basically a camera crew crawls down your throat into your stomach), I was told I had NAFLD, "Non Alcoholic Fatty Liver Disease", a mild form of the more serious NASH (which can lead to Cirrhosis). My cholesterol was also very high, and the two were most likely related. I needed to get fit, fast, and lower my cholesterol substantially. the best way to this was exercise. That will explain the previous entries and why I pushed myself to take rowing to such levels. My diet changed over night and a year later I am 4 stone lighter, a hell of a lot happier, and fitter than I've been in ten years. However, in January of this year on a check up blood test my liver function set off alarm bells again, and I will admit I was a little afraid. And that fear is like a weight, like an old fashioned Bucket yoke across your shoulders, it weighs you down and you feel compressed, under pressure, stress builds, every little worry and concern becomes like a national disaster!

In "Back to Methuselah" George Bernard Shaw wrote; "I enjoy convalescence. It is the part that makes the illness worth while." I appreciate the sentiment, but myself, I hate being sick, or having any malady that prevents me from continuing with my life as normal. Mahatma Ghandi wrote of self belief "If I have the belief I can do it, I shall surely acquire the capacity to do it even if I may not have it at the beginning." and it is something I try to live by. If you believe in your own abilities, then you may truly surprise yourself at what your abilities can achieve. But that philosophy has no place for fear in it. I have spent the last few weeks weakened, and worried, about money, about my future, about my health. In short I lacked the faith, and the belief that I would be ok, that whatever the outcome of my visit to the gastroenterologist I would over come whatever obstacle was put in my way and proceed with my life. And so, up until yesterday I had difficulty seeing past yesterday, I found it hard to imagine anything in my future, you cannot see past what you fear, and I feared going to see the specialist, I feared what he might have found.

Luke 12:28 "If then God so clothe the grass, which is to day in the field, and to morrow is cast into the oven; how much more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith?" I like that, I'm not a believer myself, but I do enjoy many of the ideals and some of the marvelously put questions in the Christian Bible. "O ye of little faith" Yes that was me, I had little faith, I allowed fear into my life. Yesterday I went to my appointment, the specialist, Dr Stack told me, in his opinion, I had nothing to worry about, that the fat on my liver was most likely caused by Hereditary High Cholesterol, and as long as I kept my cholesterol in check it should be no problem. I have to go back in six months time, during which time I will have had more blood tests for him to plot a graph against and see if my liver function (as he suspects) is fluctuating up and down, or not. With a few simple words my fear was gone and replaced with a sheepish chagrin.

And so I say to all of you who may be worried about about health, money or anything else that May happen but yet may not, you can't fix a problem by worrying about it, you can't fix a problem that might never arise. So why have a fear of it? Why worry about something that does not yet, and may never exist?

Here are a few quotes I like on Fear....

Marie Curie;
Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood.

Marilyn Ferguson
Ultimately we know deeply that the other side of every fear is a freedom.

Aung San Suu Kyi
Fear is not the natural state of civilized people.


In farewell I will say;

You're searching...
For things that don't exist; I mean beginnings.
Ends and beginnings - there are no such things.
There are only middles.
~Robert Frost,



Concúbhair