GETTING YOUR MACNAS ON

There was a great item on the radio this morning. In the middle of a stressful couple of hours dealing with blocked drains (as in sewage pipes) I retreated to my office and turned on the radio, just in time to hear Ella McSweeney talking about excited cows. Yes – that’s right, excited cows. Ella had recorded a piece yesterday on a farm in Wicklow where she accompanied a farmer to his sheds as he prepared to ‘turn out’ the cows. After four long months spent indoors eating cow food and silage, the cows were about to be released back into the fields and boy were they excited? The mooooed long mooos and they kicked and skipped in a cow fashion as he opened the barn doors. Through the radio I could sense their exhilaration as they gained their freedom and their senses were bombarded by the smell and sight of fresh grass and wide open fields. Apparently it’s called Macnas – the joyful abandon of a cow let loose in a field. It was the kind of radio that made me smile and helped restore my internal equilibrium after a shitty morning (pardon the intended pun).

Internal equilibrium or balance is vital to good mental health. So it is entirely appropriate that today is the Vernal or Spring Equinox when the hours of light and darkness are exactly equal. Balance is something we all need in our lives. It is so easy for things to go out of synch and become polarised. One of my favourite affirmations is “bring all things to balance, harmony will follow.”

Like the cows in Wicklow the Spring Equinox is also about moving forward, preferably with joyful abandon. Equinox reminds us to be fully awake and engaged in our world. Spring is here, sap is rising and in the natural world it’s all about fertility, hence the association of Easter with rabbits (ultimate symbol of rampant fertility) and eggs!

It is time to be like the cows and their macnas..... get outdoors, feel the wind in your hair, the gentle rays of the sun on your face and the pulse of new life bursting forth in nature. It is also about creativity, whether that means baking a cake or being a co-creator, with Mother Nature, of abundance in your garden by making ready the soil and planting seeds.

Perhaps it’s my Celtic pagan heritage but I love reflecting on these old ‘wheel of the year’ markers. Awareness of these agricultural and astrological marker days provides us with a pause in our busy lives, even if only to be aware of the turning of the year. I like that.

Photo by Cheeseslave on Flickr

WHAT IT MEANS TO BE IRISH....

I have a love hate relationship with Paddy’s Day for many reasons, not least of which is that I hanker after the simpler way in which we celebrated our national day when I was a child... but that could be just my age. I may be incubating my inner ‘grumpy old woman’.

Given that we are approaching the day of national celebration and the fact that some of my unease stems from disconnect or gap that exists between what is really is to be Irish and how the Irish are portrayed, last night as we sat having dinner we decided to explore this huge question. What does it mean to be Irish?

Taking part in the conversation was husband, who is English and the two youngest daughters aged 13 and 11. We came up with a list of what it really means to be Irish.... This is our family view and I present it for your consideration and entertainment.

Being Irish means you talk a lot... This is something that particularly affects our family but as we regularly compare Irish families we know with British families we know, we think that this is definitely an Irish trait. The gift of the gab is apparently more than just a tired cliché. We see this as a positive.

Being Irish means we are sweary... Yeah, this is fair enough. We are great at swearing and even break up words to stick a swear word in the middle – abso-bleedin-lutely. This is probably neither positive nor negative. But we are kind of proud of this dubious aspect of our Irishness too.

Being Irish means we do a lot of slagging.... This is probably one of the most useful Irish traits and one that often other nationalities don’t get. And the secret of good slagging is that nothing is sacred. Irreverent slagging – brilliant.

Being Irish means we need to know everything about everyone... Again we think it’s the height of bad manners not to be interested in other people. Some nationalities might see this as being nosey but we think it should be taken as a compliment if, when we meet you, we interview you too.

Being Irish means we are loud... Well, we feel there is no point in talking if no one can hear you.. So yeah, loud and proud of it too.

Being Irish means the tricolour... Now this was interesting. I asked my girls if they knew the significance of the Green, White and Orange in our national flag. Oh, they sure did. It is not quite the meaning I was taught but in this era of peace and tolerance perhaps it’s very appropriate. Here is the new meaning of the tricolour.

Green – is for the fields of Ireland

Orange – is for the red heads

White – is the colour of our skin.

Being Irish means drinking... We had a long debate about this one and in the end conceded that yep, Ireland has probably earned her reputation as drinkers although we do feel that the reputation is actually larger than our drinking. But we are proud of Irish pubs which are now found in almost every corner of the world.

Being Irish means ‘the craic’..... We think that only Irish people truly understand what having the craic is about. It’s fun, it’s slagging, it uproarious, and it’s the ultimate feel good. We think it’s one of the best things about being Irish.

Being Irish means we are very connected to our spirituality.. Not all of us of course but these are all generalisations. We think that (in general) Irish people are very spiritual. From the good Catholics and CofI’s to the pagans we think there is a high degree of believing we are part of a bigger picture in Ireland. We also have some wonderful ancient pagan monuments and of course we own Halloween. This is almost as good as the craic. We like this very much.

Being Irish means we are cool... I was so thrilled to hear my children (13 and 11) announce that being Irish meant we are cool. In these days of depression and recession, our children are still proud to be Irish... that’s just bloody great!

Being Irish means (like it or hate it) we have Paddy’s Day... For us the most interesting thing about Paddy’s Day is that it is so widely celebrated all over the world.

Being Irish is all about being a small country with a long reach.... we are all over the world once again.

So wherever you are, whether you are Irish or not can we wish you Happy St Patrick’s Day... curse away, have a jar, plenty of craic and then interview someone you don’t know very well!

With thanks to Roisin, Mia and Paul

IT'S WORLD BOOK DAY

Some of my best friends are books.

Some of the best trips I have ever taken have been within the pages of a good book.

Books have a gentle power to raise your spirit, open your mind, and touch your heart.

There are few pleasures more sublime that starting a new book which holds the promise of a great escape into another world.

Being an enthusiastic reader, with ambitions to one day write a book, I love going to hear established favourite authors doing readings and being interviewed. I love to hear how they write, where they write, what inspires them and how they started. Not surprisingly good writers often are great talkers. I have been enthralled by Alexander McCall Smith (wonderful raconteur), Melvyn Bragg (oh the intellect), Patrick Gale (who lives what seems like an idyllic life) and our own Maeve Binchey (master storyteller). These evenings have all been interesting, amusing and inspiring, not to mention a cheap night out.

Dun Laoghaire is probably one of the best places in the country to live if you like books and writing. Dun Laoghaire Rathdown Library Service runs the wonderful Library Voices series of talks by writers, along with the annual ‘Mountains to Sea Dun Laoghaire Book Festival’. And down the road is Dalkey which now also holds an annual Book Festival.

Of my three daughters, two have been reading since they were first able to make sense of words on a page – which is just as well as I was an awful reader of bedtime stories. Tucking my babies into bed and settling myself beside them to read, usually resulted in my snoring gently long before they did. My dear eldest, who is now living in Perth, never read despite my regular encouragements. But (and listen up all you parents who fret about your children reading) when she began to commute into town, as the ripe old age of 23 she discovered the joy of books. Once again, the sight of any of my girls with their head in a book never fails to make me smile. It’s as joyous as watching a line of washing blowing around in the spring breeze. And I love hearing the regular cries of “mom, I’ve nothing to read.”

When I think of children and books I always think of Gaybo on the Late Late Toy Show who always began the book segment by saying that giving the gift of a book to a child is to give for life... how right he was. Santa always brings books to this house.

Like most readers I also love a good bookshop. To wander around shelves crammed with wonderful characters, tales from all around the globe and from all periods of history including the future is truly magical. The air is heavy with possibilities. Libraries offer similar promise coupled with wonderfully eclectic noticeboards offering local courses and services. When my girls were younger the local library was a great way to pass the afternoon and again cost nothing.

The only thing, associated with reading and books that I don’t really like is book clubs, which surprised me. I did join one for a while but it brought out the worst in me (she says honestly). I realised how much I don’t like being told what to do – as in ‘this is the book we are all reading this month.’ I cheated when it was my turn by suggesting books that I had already read so I could have a month off to read my own books. Whatever personality fault I have, meant that I couldn’t take the talking and debating the book seriously. I reverted to my teenage schoolgirl self, messing, making facetious remarks and disagreeing just for the sake of it. I decided to leave the club (although some of my best pals are in it), before I was asked to behave which would have been the ultimate humiliation. I suppose my ideal book club would be where each person would bring a good book they had read on the basis of ‘bring a book, take a book.’ But then again I do this with my bookish friends informally anyway.

I have a rule which says that life is too short and too full of good books to spend time reading a book you are not enjoying. You know that feeling when you go to bed and remember the book you are reading is not doing it for you. That’s a sign to abandon book and pick up another. It’s the reverse response to a good book – which you dread finishing, because you don’t want it to end.

Finally – books are meant to be shared. Don’t clutter your home by hanging onto every book you have ever read. Swop them, donate them to your local charity shop or take them to a second hand bookshop where you will get credit you can use to get more!

I am about to start the latest book by one of my favourite authors (Dun Laoghaire Library Service take note) – The Legacy of Hartlepool Hall by Paul Torday. Paul’s first novel Salmon Fishing in the Yemen remains one of my all time favourites and it has recently been made into a movie which will be released here just after Easter. I have seen it and it’s a gem. I will post a review in due course!

So if you have time today pop by your local bookstore and pick up a book – it’s World Book Day and you’re worth it!

Happy Reading....

Photo of my 'To Be Read' book shelf where my books are minded by my owls!

BE SPECIFIC ABOUT WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Do you believe in the power of prayer? Or as it is more trendily called lately – cosmic ordering? Do you think that our thoughts carry power? Can our minds influence our future?

At the risk of losing any bit of street cred I may have, I do believe that we are powerful beyond our belief. I do believe in the power of positive thinking. I believe in the power of visualisation. I do believe that our thoughts carry power. And ergo as I believe there is a higher power I believe in the power of prayer or cosmic ordering.

It therefore goes without saying that my children think I am bats.. well except for the eldest one, now living in Perth, Western Australia where she is making her dreams come true. But my 13year old and my 11 year old definitely do not value my wisdom at all and much to my delight consider me an awful embarrassment. Although recently the universe (or God or whatever) decided to show my 13 year old how visualisation and prayer or cosmic ordering works with amazing results. And I think it might have changed her mind.

Regular readers will remember that over the summer and autumn we fostered kittens for the DSPCA. It was hard work and great fun. The last fostering we did was a mammy cat and her 4 black kittens. 13 year old fell in love with one who she was convinced loved her. “He sits on my lap and he loves me” she reported regularly, followed by “can we keep him, pleeeeease”. Now we already have four resident cats – which is loads, so my standard response to her plaintiff cries was “no, we are not going to be a five cat household”.

But she went on and on and on... for weeks, for months. Her argument was that none of our resident cats loved her specifically. Kitty (our youngest cat) loves the 11 year old, basically sharing her bedroom day and night. I stood my ground.

But one evening at dinner, when I must have been in a particularly mellow mood, she quietly once again made her case for getting her own cat. She described how he would be a gentle, playful cat, black and white and he would love her. She had that distant look in her eyes as she daydreamed about her imaginary cat.

“Listen” I said, putting down my knife and fork, “if this is really important to you and something you really want, just carry on visualising it. In your mind see exactly what your cat looks like, see him sleeping on your bed and sitting on your knee.”

“But Mom, you said that we can’t have more than four cats so how would we get this new cat?”

“You don’t worry about that at all. Leave all the details to God. You just put your wish to have a cat to call your own out there and then forget about it.”

She looked at me dubiously but she did shut up. We had about ten days free of her moaning about getting a new cat.

Then one afternoon I was coming home town when my phone rang. It was the girls excitedly telling me that a stray cat had appeared in the front garden and wouldn’t go away. This happens occasionally with dogs and cats but usually an owner is found pretty quickly. “Can we let him in the house, it’s really cold out” they implored. “No way” was my answer, with visions of how quickly our house could be destroyed by fighting cats and our dog thrown into the mix for good measure. I told them they could give him some food in the garden but that was it.

When I pulled up in the driveway about half an hour later, there he was. A black and white young cat sitting on the window sill as if waiting for me to arrive. I addressed him immediately “you needn’t get any ideas buster... you are going home”. He looked very like a neighbour’s cat. Girls were dispatched to check that out. But no, he wasn’t theirs. By now it was dark and it was very cold and cat had stubbornly stayed by our front door. “Ok, I said we will let him in carefully and see what happens.”

Amazingly nothing much happened. The other cats were mildly curious but not that bothered. Dylan our daft dog got madly over excited like he does about everything but even that was short lived. So cat was allowed to stay the night. He found one of our cat beds under a radiator and slept for hours.

Next morning common sense was again employed. “We must find his owners” I lectured the girls. “We will drive around to see if there are any notices up on nearby estates and then we will take him to the vet to see if he is micro chipped.” There were no notices and there was no micro chip. The vet confirmed that he was about a year old, intact (not been spayed) and in good condition.

“What am I going to do?” I asked, “I have already have 4 cats... I don’t want another.”

“He belongs to someone,” the vet said “I think you should let him out and he may just go home.”

This seemed like sage advice which we followed. Cat immediately set off at a stately pace down the road. “See”, I said to 13 year old “he has remembered where he lives and he has gone home. Somewhere his family will be very happy to see him.”

That was Saturday.

On Monday in the early afternoon I got a call from the vets.

“You don’t still have that black and white cat do you” she asked.

“No”, I said proudly “we took your advice, let him out and off he went. I presume he’s gone home.”

“Em, no he didn’t. He was picked up yesterday by a lady who found him on the central reservation of the N11. She couldn’t keep him, he’s back here."

At 4pm that day I picked up 13 year old from school and instead of driving home, headed for the vets. When we pulled up outside, she looked at me quizzically.

“There is someone here waiting for you,” I said.

Sometimes I can be a bit slow on the uptake, even with my own wisdom. The universe had sent my 13 year old her cat, exactly as she had visualised; black and white and full of personality and affection. And yes, he does love her. He sits on her knee and sleeps on her bed. Most of all though he knows that he is where he is meant to be.

So now – I want a weekly newspaper column; one where I can write about anything that tickles my fancy or moves me or annoys me. I also want a regular radio gig....reviewing the morning’s newspapers where I could focus on the positive and off beat stories to help cheer us all up?

Right – got that Universe? Watch this space!!!

Photo of Felix relaxing (yep, he does sleep that way sometimes) by 11year old!

WHY IS NO NEWS GOOD NEWS?

News has forever been generally negative. We all know that old cliché that ‘no news is good news’, well it works backwards too. In other words ‘good news is no news’. There are other writers, more learned than I, who have probably written long theses on why this is so, but even I recognise, that we live in a global world where fear is a huge factor in our lives. Stoking our fears and insecurities makes us better consumers and advertising funds the media, so I guess that the status quo is going to remain for some time to come.

But I don’t think that it is altogether fair to blame the media entirely for the barrage of negative news that we are subjected to every day. I think that we also have a morbid fascination with bad news. Just look at how people get so seemingly spellbound by disasters and tragedy on a grand scale. Is this because we all possess an element of the “God I am glad that I am not in that situation” type thinking? Perhaps.

We in Ireland are also endlessly fascinated by politics and more recently economics. We greedily soak up the news and the conversations of celebrity experts on everything from bond markets to septic tanks. Often these conversations and discussions go around and around in circles never actually reaching any conclusion as trendy economists and outspoken politicians whizz from studio to studio peddling their own particular wisdom which in turn becomes the water cooler or twitter conversations. All of which leads us subconsciously to live in a state of stress about the future.

There is nothing wrong with stress as a short term measure to combat some threat. Being stressed when you find yourself staring down a lion, for example, would be most useful but in day to day life this low level anxiety cannot be good for us.

Psychologist Maureen Gaffney wrote recently that “resilience during periods of stress relies on the ability to actively rebalance positive and negative emotions.”

So why is there seemingly so little balance in the news and current affairs media? That is something that only the media can answer but in the meantime we as individuals need to develop the ability to stand back from what we are reading, listening to or watching from time to time. We need to regularly ask ourselves “how am I feeling today?” Much of what we hear about on news media, from natural disasters to impending financial meltdowns, we have no control over. So if you are already feeling a little bit below par, a bit fed up, uneasy or worried then recognise that fact and take a break away from the bad news.

I know that if you, like me, are a current affairs junkie who likes to know what is going on, turning off The News, or Primetime or Tonight with Vincent Browne might be a radical step. For years my alarm radio was set to RTE Radio 1 so it was the voices of Morning Ireland I woke up to. But recently there have been mornings when I know that I don’t want to begin my day with all this financial gloom and dire doom. Depending on my emotional state I may chose Hector’s roaring from Galway to jar me awake or on other mornings it will be some classical music on Lyric FM. But the point is to recognise when enough is enough for you and move that dial.

In the meantime I will continue to drone on about how we need more positivity and inspiring stories in our news media to balance all the negative stuff. I will continue to love hearing RTE’s Philip Bromwell’s voice as I know he will bring me a tale of dolphins, or rescued dogs or squirrels. I say we need more like him. We need more uplifting and life affirming good news stories which are everywhere in our society, particularly in these hard times. These stories may not make us better consumers immediately but ultimately by bringing balance to our news we will be a nation of happier, less stressed citizens which just might play a large part in Ireland getting herself out of this brutal recession.

BRIGID - A VERY MODERN WOMAN

Today, February 1^st is the Feast of St Brigid. My daughters went to St Brigids National School it has long been a day of mild celebration in our house being as it means a half day and no homework (only for the youngest now though).

The 1st of February is also (according to the Celtic calendar) the first day of Springtime..and even though February can be one of the coldest months, this morning the sun is shining and the sky is blue! Spring is stirring. Snowdrops are well up and crocuses have also flowered and daffodils are just behind them. All of these flowers speak of hope and remind us that even during the long dark winter, the wheel of the year is continually turning and regardless of what is happening in our world, Mother Nature continues her work and life goes on. There is little as comforting as that fact...that life goes on... all is well.

St Brigid is one of my favourite saints because she is also a Goddess and it has become impossible to differentiate between the two. Legends swirl around her both her pagan and Christian expression. Some think that Brigid was actually a pagan priestess before her conversion to Christianity. Personally I don’t think it matters.

As a Goddess, Brigid is connected with healing, smithcraft and poetry. Traditionally in Ireland on the eve of St Brigids Day, a cloth would be left outdoors overnight. This cloth would receive a blessing from Brigid and would then be used for the rest of the year for healing. It was known (as far as I can remember) as Brat Bhride.

Brigid is also Goddess of fire, the hearth (traditionally the centre of the home) and energy. And finally she is Goddess of fertility and childbirth and is said to lean over every cradle.

The legends of St Brigid are equally fascinating and stories abound. We know she founded monasteries for both men and women. She is credited with making Kildare a monastic city and a renowned centre for learning and illumination. But more than that, she wanted her monasteries to be warm and comforting places – hence her association with the hearth traditionally the centre of the home and of sustenance. Her generosity was also legendary especially to the poor. She also had a huge affinity with animals and was credited with being able to get cows to milk three times a day.

She was very influential in her time and widely respected. Some legends even have it that she was made a bishop and lived with a special female companion.

But it is the way that her legend embodies both the traditional feminine aspects of domesticity, caring and healing with more masculine traits of smithcrafting and her successful navigation of religious patriarchy, that really appeal to me. It is this melding of these traditional roles that makes her a very relevant icon for today.

And how appropriate is it that tomorrow the Gender Quotas Bill is coming before the Dail? So today let’s remember Brigid – one of Ireland’s greatest feminine icons and ask her blessing as we embark on the first step in the business of political equality in this country.

Photo is of the Harry Clarke stained glass window depicting Brigid in Cabinteely Church.

ARE WE UP FOR THE CHALLENGE SISTERS?

I don’t think I had ever stood in the Upper Castle Yard of Dublin Castle before. As I entered into the hugely atmospheric space last Friday, images from various presidential inaugurations, the Royal Visit and the iconic scene in the movie Michael Collins crowded into my mind. These fleeting images mixed with the echoes of the Castle’s troubled history but neither took from the understated grandeur of the place.

About two years ago I took a deep breath and decided to publicly disagree with journalist and businesswoman Margaret Ward on the issue of gender quotas in politics, a concept to which I was fundamentally opposed. It was a bloody encounter on Twitter which ended in silence when Margaret asked if I had read the literature on the subject. Needless to say I hadn’t.

I still haven’t read any literature but I have opened my ears to the debate and listened to the rationale in proposing this artificial method of ensuring more women at least make it onto the ballot paper. By the time I arrived at the Castle Conference Centre to attend the How To Elect More Women event I had more or less accepted the (seemingly) consensus view that this is the only way we are going to get more women into Dail Eireann.

The conference, organised by the Dept of Justice and Equality, had lined up an impressive cohort of speakers and was moderated by the wonderful Olivia O Leary. This is not a review of the day’s proceedings but there were a few themes that resonated, a few speakers that were outstanding and a few things that occurred to me.

In the first session we were expecting to hear from (amongst others) Susan McKay, CEO of the National Women’s Council of Ireland (NWCI). She didn’t appear – apparently this was in protest at the 30% reduction in funding to the NWCI by the Government. This display of redundant protest struck me as more petulant than effective, particularly as a colleague of McKay’s came along to speak in her place.

Fintan O Toole, was for me, the star of the first session delivering as he did a thoughtful, articulate and engaging speech. He spoke of Ireland being at a critical point in our history. It is time, he told us, to re-imagine a new republic and to begin the process of having an elected parliament that looks like us, with relative representation of women, immigrants etc. He referenced how many women were involved in the foundation of this state with the stark statistic that in the first Dail (95 years ago) there were 23 elected women TD’s ; today there are 25. Fintan finished by stating that the problem of How To Elect More Women is not a case of making women fit the system but rather making the system fit for women.

In the afternoon we heard from Ailbhe Smith, representing the People Before Profit Alliance, who pointed out that along with more women in politics we also need far more women’s voices in media and Mary Lou McDonald (Sinn Fein) who finished her rousing speech with a call to arms “quotas are just the first small step.. what we need sisters is a revolution.”

There was one theme of the day’s proceedings that really shocked me. One of the reasons, repeatedly put forward for women’s non involvement in political life is because they weren’t asked? What? I hear you say. Yep, political, smart women including Ailbhe Smith do not enter politics because they were not asked. Dublin South Central TD Catherine Byrne said she only got into politics because she was asked. Ditto with Sandra McLellan (Sinn Fein TD for Cork East). For what other job would women wait to be asked before applying? It’s no wonder our political landscape is so turgid if entry is by invitation only.

The good news is that there are now two active groups working to assist in getting more women elected to our Dail – The 5050 Group and Women for Election and I am sure that this issue of women waiting to be asked is something they will both be addressing.

So what do I think? Well one of the things that stuck me overwhelmingly have listened to all the contributions is that the Irish (and probably British) system of politics is no place for a parent of young children. Sandra McLelland (Sinn Fein) herself a mother, outlined her life. She is in Dublin Tuesday through Thursday (and sometimes Friday) with weekends spent on Constituency work. Tanaiste Eamon Gilmore also spoke about the time commitment involved in an election campaign along with the invasion of privacy. It’s a mad system which squeezes a huge amount of energy out of the participants for relatively modest returns. In other words TDs spend a huge amount of time in Dublin, attending functions, meetings etc and ‘debating’ in the Dail chamber. One wonders about time management.

This system must change if we are to work towards the vision of a new Republic with a Dail that ‘looks like us’ as outlined by Fintan O’Toole. But I think it will take a strong cohort of women in the corridors of power to effect this change. So it’s a chicken and egg situation.

One of the possible solutions might be a campaign to target older women to encourage them to enter politics. Women whose children are older are more likely to be able to give the crazy time commitment that’s currently required. Once elected, they could then work to dismantle the archaic system we have and begin to make Dail Eireann a more productive and family friendly workplace which would benefit both men and women. This I am sure would result in our having no further need for quotas as women would see entering politics as something that would fit far more comfortably with their family commitments. So we need the big sisters to do some spade work in order that all sisters may participate.

Almost 100 years ago Ireland was to the fore of women’s involvement in politics. Constance Markievicz won a seat in the 1918 General Election making her the first woman to be elected to the British House of Commons (she never took her seat in line with Sinn Fein policy and was unable to attend the 1^st Dail either due to her imprisonment). She was re-elected in the 1921 General Election and served as Minister for Labour. She was the first Irish female Cabinet Minister and only the 2^nd female Government Minister in Europe. In order to achieve political freedom, the suffragette movement in Ireland were asked to join in the cause of Irish freedom first and that's women's emancipation would follow. It didn't.

100 years later it is time that this debt is repaid. It is long overdue.

with thanks to journalist Carol Hunt for filling in a gap in my own education on women and politics in the early Dail.