Ireland Forever

Today is March 17, known mostly around the world as St. Patrick's Day. I, however, have a problem with celebrating it as such. I find it a little unsettling that a man, who at one point in time was a slave in Ireland, should be celebrated as some great hero of the land who "chased the snakes to the sea" of Ireland, thereby purifying the land once again for the Church. Here is what I think. Patrick was a little pissed off at the Irish. I mean, they had enslaved him for 6 years! So he escapes and makes it back to Britain where he enters the church to start his studies. He knows that in order to have any sort of influence he will have to make his mark within the church itself. Now, some may ask why he didn't become a politician etc as in our day and age, that would be how one gained influence and power. However, in the time of Patrick, the Catholic church was where the power was at if you were not Royalty. Add that to the fact that his father was a deacon and his grandfather a priest and it is easy to see why Patrick chose this path. So he makes a name for himself in the Catholic dynasty and become the bishop who is sent to Ireland to convert the savages from their Pagan ways to the ways of the church.  Does nobody else see the beginnings of a plot of vengeance on the Irish people and their Deities and ways beginning to unfold here? Unfortunately, history tells us that he was somewhat successful in this endeavor. The Druids "disappeared" from the land and many died rather than conform. But what else does history tell us if today we are still chanting the names of the Ancient ones, still practicing the rituals and following the teachings of the Druids? It tells us that all the success Patrick and the church thought they had to change the ways of the Irish forever, was not nearly as fruitful as Patrick and those of his ilk, had thought it was. WE are still here. The indigenous culture, beliefs and teachings of Ireland still survives in our blood. I know without a doubt that my ancestors before (and even those after) the time of Patrick, are exceptionally proud that I, like many others, continue to remember them and the Dieties that guided them. In remembering them, our roots, our dead, our histories and our beliefs, we have shown that there is no man, no religious occupation or exile from our homelands and no amount of time that can remove the calling of our ancestors back to our true paths.  And so on this day, March 17, while Christians are celebrating the life and death of their St.Patrick of Ireland, my Irish blood will celebrate the true culture of my people, my land and my Dieties.

Irinn go Bràch!

Count Your Blessings, Name Them One By One

My cousin lost everything in a house fire yesterday, including his beloved dog. Thank the Gods neither himself nor his two sons were at home when it all happened. I have let him know that I am here for him should he have need of me, but aside from that I am not really sure what more can be done unless he asks it of me. The offer has been made and aside from sending out positive thoughts and prayers for him and his family in their time of need, there is really nothing else I can do at the moment. I hope he calls me and allows me to give him what solace and help that I can. I am his kin and I empathize with what he is going through. It hurts my heart to know that someone I love is going through such tragedy as I sit here and write. It makes me realize how truly blessed I am that my children and grandchildren are safe, healthy and happy, that my husband sits by my side everyday, that my extended family is there should I need them, that my home is stable and inviting, that I have friends that surround me, that there is food in our bellies and clothing on our backs. What more could a person really ask for in this life?  Love, family, friends, health, stability, food, clothing and home...in my opinion those are the necessities of life and I have them all and then some. I think people, as a whole, have a bad habit of taking their blessings for granted on a daily basis.  I know that I am guilty of doing it myself, something I am always trying to work on. It should not take an act of devastation, grief, trauma, tragedy or loss to make us realize what is and is not important or where we need to change as human beings, but that is quite often the way it goes. We tend to get so caught up our own lives and dramas that we seldom take the time to self reflect on what is really important to us until it is forced into our consciousness by these acts of awakening. I can admit that such has been the case for myself numerous times over my life. In fact, I can admit that it has happened here today as I sit and think on what my cousin must be going through and become more grateful for what I have been granted in my life. It shouldn't be this way but the fact remains that it is - but now I have a choice to make. I can let the unfortunate circumstances bleed their lesson into me and change myself permanently in a positive way or I can let the lesson wear off with time as I allow all the non-perfect moments to interfere with my gratitude and blind me to what really matters most. The choice to count each blessing and be grateful for them everyday, instead of just in moments of hardship, is mine, just as it is for every other person on the planet. I know the choice I will make. Do you?
Namaste

Just To Breathe

It has been a little while since I have had the chance to sit and write. Life has been busy and there is a virus spreading its way through the population that has seemed to become attracted to me at this point in time. It has left me very tired as I try to keep up with all the requirements of my life. The multitude of relationships I am involved in, responsibilities of being a parent and a caregiver, the duties of being the one to keep the machine of house and family running as smoothly as possible, all while trying to battle the aches, pains, mental and emotional stresses of a couple chronic medical conditions can overwhelm and wear one out if there is no opportunity to break, to step back, to breathe or rest. Such as been the case for me as of late. Perhaps it is the added challenges of late that are not usually present such as this virus, upcoming events, unforeseen expenses but it has left me feeling as though I am running a marathon and although I am out of breathe, my lungs ablaze and my body screaming it's protests, I can't quite seem to catch up to a place where I can maintain an even pace. It is frustrating to say the least as many plans have had to be cancelled, commitments postponed,  daily requirements done at half the capacity (if they are done at all), and the feelings over having to do all this start to swallow me. I have a habit of taking too much on at once and I can see where I have done it yet again, but what do I allow to dissolve in order to have that space to breathe? There are things that are not negotiable to remove such as my primary functions as mother, wife and grandmother and all the little things those roles involve. I can't quit my jobs either as it would send the family income into quite the tailspin. I don't want to have to dissolve relationships that hold meaning to me either. So where is the balance and what is worth the sacrifices to allow me to breathe? I am told I am never selfish enough when it comes to myself and perhaps that is true and so maybe now is the time to be a little more selfish about what I need. I don't know how much longer I can continue to wear myself into the ground this way without serious repercussions. I have to find the balance again. Have to find myself an air pocket within all the necessities of life. It is there, someplace...I just have to find it.

To Celebrate a Ghost

It is a hard thing, to lose a sibling you were so close with. It is a wound that never heals and sometimes begins to seep at the most unexpected times for time has no bearing on the heart. True time can ease the acute pain from the loss but it does not erase what has been and is still felt. Today is my sister's birthday and I miss her just as much today as I did the day she crossed into the boundary lands. Perhaps more so for life has changed so much since that day. I have tried to honor the promise I made her to care for her girls if anything ever happened to her. Now that they are both adults, one with a child of her own, I think I can safely say that to this date I have done so. It is a double edged knife though. One moment proud of what I have done in her name and proud of the people they are becoming and the next moment wishing that she could have been here to do it herself, to experience the things that I am experiencing in her stead. I have been standing in her shadow for them for the last 12 years and these moment can be hard to endure. Now, as I sit here wishing that I could call her to wish her a happy birthday, that I could plan a party for her or take her out to celebrate in some way, I am reminded of so many moments we shared together that, at the time, did not seem so monumental and important. These moments have remained the light within the darkness of my grief and I cherish them for the healing power they have become. They are my antidote when the sorrow threatens to overtake me. I can still see her smiling at me when I had my first baby and the pride that was one her face. I can still hear her laugh herself to tears and her voice as she told me of things that either pleased her or upset her. I can still feel the way she squeezed my hand for support when she had to stand tall for her girls during a difficult moment in their lives. I can still hear the way she cried when her heart was broken and hear the pleading in her voice as she looked to me to help soothe it. I can remember countless  moments where she was pulling pranks or telling jokes and just enjoying what life had given her. I can also remember moments where we were at each others throats, in total disagreement and threatened to never speak to each other again. Those moments  were typical sibling moments and never seemed to last for very long. No matter what though, I remember that when it counted, we were always there for each other in whatever capacity we needed to be. I remember her telling me she loved me and kissing me on the cheek a week before she passed away. That moment....that moment I believe her soul knew her fate even if she wasn't aware of it. All these little moments have forged themselves into the steel that is required to get through everyday without her and today is no exception. Today, as the tears pour down my face and my grief threatens to engulf me, I put my weight on these memories in the hopes that they will help me to stand tall as they do every other time I am missing her so much. Happy Birthday my sister...