Hiking the Cabo Blanco

       “No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.” 

- BUDDHA-

 
The Nicoya Peninsula, Costa Rica, Central America.

Left or right? I couldn’t decide. One path looked well-trodden, the other a little more ungroomed.  A quick look at my battered, old and not- so- smart phone informed me that it was 4 minutes to 8am. The mercury was rising but morning freshness still filled the air. Thick green rainforest surrounded me. I was told this trail, through steep cliffs and gigantic trees, would eventually lead to the big blue ocean. With basic Spanish I translated the two signs in front of me. One said "easy" the other read "difficult."  “Oh well, I’m definitely taking the easy route,” I thought- I am hiking alone after all and only one (very sleepy looking) park ranger knows I’m even in here. What if I fell? already picturing the scene of doom: compound fracture to the lower left tibia, a pool of blood trickling down the rocks, screams for help muffled only by the enormous chests of the 15 or so howler monkeys that would surround me and maul me into a most premature and ghastly death. A loud rustle of leaves overhead woke me from this hair raising scenario and drew my eye up to a little coati sitting on a branch.  He stared at me judgingly for a couple of nano seconds before scampering off into the green abyss.  There were creatures unknown above, below and all around.

 Water-check. Sun cream- check. Food- check. Slight nervous rumble in the tummy- check. I started walking. It felt nice and safe to have decided to take the easy hike. Good decision. But as expected I’d hardly climbed a couple of metres up when that old familiar voice in my head started to chatter. “Why are you taking the easy path Liz? Go back and try the other one- it might be trickier-but if you don’t go- you’ll never know!” I felt my heart start to beat. I was scared of the path less travelled but I turned around and went back. 

After an hour or so the gentle incline had morphed into to an arduous and steep scramble up loose muddy rocks and through green shiny leaves. I was high up now.  This was a difficult hike alright. It wasn’t Mount Everest, granted, but you’d want your wits about you all the same. I suppose there is a certain caution one needs to adopt when travelling alone, or doing anything alone for that matter.  A flat green mossy stone caught my eye as the perfect seat for a snack.  I unpacked my bag and chomped down on a cheese and ham roll. The self-generated noises of hiking: the walking, the panting, the crunches of sticks, the clickety click of rucksack straps and the squish of mud made way for pure silence as I sat and ate. The animals had grown quiet and the only sound now was the slow and steady white noise of the ocean, wherever it was. 

 
I recall, at one point being very unsure of where I was. There were no signposts, just a track (of sorts).  Doubt crept in telling me I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. It had been over 3 hours at this point. My feet were hot and tingly but the sound of the surf was steadily growing louder so I trusted my gut and kept moving forward. The climb had been going in a downwards decline for the last 20 minutes or so.  I bent down to avoid a slap in the snoz from a low swinging branch and as I straightened up to go forward again, there it was, the glimpse of blue magic through a gap in the bushes. I pushed the branches out of my way and there before me like a turquoise silk carpet laid down by the hands of some supernatural being was The Pacific Ocean.  Two headlands jutted out like outstretched arms, hugging the white sandy beach into their broad forest chest. Almond trees lined the beach, a few gulls screeched overhead and pieces of driftwood littered the shoreline. I steadied myself and jumped down from the sandy bank. I’d only love to tell you that at this point an absolute hunk of life altering proportions emerged from the sea, water glistening and dripping from his toned but not overly sculpted body, wet curls framing a rugged yet kind face... but alas no, instead...

 I plonked onto my  weary and aching arse and carefully began untying my dirty, wet laces. Removing my old manky boots I rubbed my throbbing feet. I neatly folded my socks into each boot. I scrunched my toes up and inhaled as the soft warm sand poured between each hot and swollen toe. “Jesus that’s divine.” I had a quick look around to make sure I was indeed alone before peeling my black leggings off and hanging them from the branch behind me. Piece by piece I removed the rest of my clothes. I stood there in my birthday suit and let the ocean breeze cool my face.  I released my hair from its tight ponytail and headed for the water. The water hit my feet with a gentle crash and it was the most perfect temperature. I walked to waist height and turned around to look at the jungle behind me. This was an immense view, wild, natural and very beautiful. It wasn’t polished and perfect like a tropical island postcard, its beauty was rawer and more awesome. I was in a veritable bath of green trees and blue seas - nature’s best.  With a big breath in and eyes closing I dropped straight as a plumb line down under the water.  The tense energy from the hike evaporated around me into the water in an instant and I let the ocean soak it up. Leave it there I thought, in the sea.  I swam and floated in that ocean for what felt like hours, around and around in circles, over and back in straight lines, on my stomach, on my back, on my side, splashing and diving. Not one single other soul stepped foot on that very remote beach for the day. It had been waiting for only me.

 I’ve no idea whether or not life’s path is set out for us in some pre-determined fashion or whether it reveals itself slowly as a result of the millions of often small and sometimes larger decisions we make each moment of each day, year after year. I don’t have the right to know exactly where life is taking me because I don't technically own my life, I cannot control it like I do the remote control. Instead I am life, it courses around my body and keeps me moving forward. That is all I know. I don't know my destiny nor do I want to. 

As I lay on the warm white sand at the edge of the oldest Rainforest in Costa Rica-staring at the blanket of blue above me- I was truly thankful to be alive and so happy that I had chosen that difficult path.

 

 

DATING LAID BARE

 My Single Life

 I have, after much thought (and increased requests from other single women in their 30’s and 40’s) decided to share a small selection of stories from my love life. My stories are very real, the fun, the excitement, the passion, the laughter, the nerves, the hope, the disappointment, the confusion, the soul searching, the rejection, the tears, the loneliness...  gosh- you name it- I’ve felt it. I have no idea why things work out the way they do. They just do. One thing I know I can say with 100% certainty is that the most important relationship I have is the one I have with myself. I have consistently nourished my own soul down through the years, freed my own spirit and supported myself.  So here, in no particular order, is a sample of some of the guys that crossed paths with me. No real names given!

 Let me take you back to the Summer of 2005. First up we have:

( Drum roll, please)

 The Rebound Guy:
Wildly dancing the nights into mornings with this hunky spunky 6 foot 2 inched, tanned and wavy- haired London born backpacker.  Hazy, crazy days spent together on the golden sandy beaches and hillside huts of Thailand. I bumped into this unassuming and handsome stranger one hot summer night in the back of a tuk tuk bombing down the Koh San Road in Bangkok.  In hindsight he was the one that catapulted me into the big world of dating. He taught me so much in so little time. I was a slightly lost Irish girl- just out of a cosy hometown relationship- apologising for everything and seeking reassurance from everyone. “Stop saying sorry babe”, he kindly advised one night under a full moon “Just enjoy yourself” he added through a breathy cloud of Thai whiskey and Marlboro Lights. And so that was exactly what I learned to do.  I stopped playing it so safely and started really enjoying what life had to offer and boy what a time I had! Sadly promises to meet again and continue our holiday romance in Australia never materialised. I sat in a bar overlooking Sydney Harbour six months later waiting for him- but he never showed up. It hurt like hell! But I jogged on without him and had the best 12 months of my life.  

The Australian Trained Sniper Guy:  
This was just a phase. He was bat shit crazy. Moving on.

The Rugby Guy : 
Chasing my dreams (and his rugby balls) around Dublin, London and Italy! An utterly exhilarating man to be around and we had a fairly real connection.  His sensual gravelly voice made big waves in my rebellious heart. His gentlemanly demeanour so different to the racey pacey beast on the TV screen. This dalliance with the professional rugby player with ‘beautiful dark skin and a good heart within’ prompted a good friend to write hilarious odes to him many years later. If only he knew…God how we laughed!  However this particular game was very one sided!  I knew it was wrong to chase this athletic high flyer around but I did it anyway- guilty as charged Your Honor!!! But oh what fun, to be swept away by a true bad boy! He made international sporting headlines, I woke up and made other plans.

 The Jazz Guy:
A true old fashioned encounter. What a gentle and lovely human from a bygone era. Tender, special moments shared side by side at his piano. The tinkle of the ebony and ivory sending shivers down my spine. The best first date I ever did have! A night that saw him rise from our corner table in a music bar and play a solo piece on the sax that brought the house down. As the crowd hushed to listen to his musical magic I looked on in awe and thought “WOW, that guy is my date!” Sadly a case of bad timing brought the curtain down on that one. Bah!

 The Train Guy:
We all know that famous story by now. Choooo choooo…

 The Hippie Dippy Guy :
I fancied this ukulele player (him and his big hair) from afar. Eventually plucked up the courage to ask him out for a coffee. He had a girlfriend so rightly declined my invite for a cuppa but said I’d made an otherwise normal day a bit different and he was flattered by my interest! Good for him. But not for me! How and ever I ended up taking up the ukulele after that –  the most fun hobby I've ever had! Every cloud…. 

The Galway Guy :  
A spectacular first kiss and other very memorable moments that will stay with me for the rest of my life.  A spark that never got a chance to fully catch fire because he just couldn’t (or wouldn’t) put in all that much of an effort. I really liked this archelolgist/photographer/musician/author lad. A particularly hard one to take.

 The French Guy:
On he arrived pedalling his bike with a huge cello attached to the back. I dragged myself out of my  vomiting bug sick bed to meet this messy-haired, smokey- fingered pain in the ass. After a few months huffing and puffing his way around the country he seemed to have a bit of a problem with Irish people. Maybe I caught him on a bad day but he never stopped complaining. Massive turn off!  I promptly paid for my own drink and crawled wearily back into bed! Asshole!

The Fake Guy:
A very scary introduction into the now much normalised world of internet dating.  He told me he was a doctor, an intern studying geriatric psychiatry. Turned out he was a psychiatric patient. Jesus. H. Christ. He went to great lengths to devise a fake profile- it was incredibly convincing. A bizarre day that ended with a surreal phone call to a Garda Station. “Crikey girl, mind yourself” the female garda exclaimed somewhat excitedly in a distinctive Cork lilt “He sounds mad as a box of frogs, like." A lucky escape.

 The Nice Guy :
A thoroughly decent man. Sadly no sexual chemistry whatsoever. An awful shame.

 The Triatolon Guy:
The Comedy King. An absolute gas man that charmed the pants off me with his quick one liners and wise cracks.  At almost 7 years younger than me (gasp) he was not emotionally mature enough but after much time spent alone at this point I needed to just throw caution to the wind!  “You’re mad to kiss me I’d say, are ya?” said he through full cherry lips. “I am" said I giggling like a teenager! I would still go for friendly pints with him at the drop of a hat but  it wouldn't take a genius to work out that he definitely wasn't swimming in the same life lane as me.

 The Artist Guy:
A sweet and talented man. So completely in touch with his emotions and quite erotic in his own way. A wonderful exchange of words and ideas for days on end.  A great conversationalist but quite intellectually intense and all a bit too heavy for me. I said no to a second date and walked away in the driving rain. He didn’t feel it either he said. Fair enough. Back to the drawing board with him- and with me!

The Accountant Guy:

A classic case of great on paper but not in reality.  A very disappointing date that had been much anticipated by us both. It fell flat as a pancake for reasons unknown. The wine and the tapas were the only winners that night. I drank too much too quickly in an attempt to liven things up.  A decision that later had me hiding out in the toilets, planning my escape, and texting....The Galway Guy: Ah well, what’s a girl to do? 

Dating is tough gig!


*deletes Tinder for the 75th time

Aoibhe Anne Golden

Born 30/08/17

 

As you wrapped your slender finger around mine, it was then I knew,

That the love we have for Henry is now the same for you.

Your beautiful face, so familiar yet so new- our hearts beat like butterfly wings,

When we stop to look at you.

Lying in your bassinette, in the corner of the room

Your brother whizzing round your head,

Vroom, Vroom, Vroom!!!

“Quick, look- she’s opening her eyes to investigate the scene-

Oh wait, no, she’s gone again,

Back aboard her dream machine!”

So safe and so loved

We watch this new born child

Knowing that the day may come when she’ll roam far and free and wild.

 

LOVE
EROS, PHILIA and AGAPE

The Ancient Greeks knew about love. 

I've been reading what they had to say. They believed love could be divided into three equal parts.- the clever cats! They thought, as a society, we owe it to ourselves to identify and attach the correct words to each kind, in order to give each type the respect it deserved.

They began with what happens when we first meet someone. They said that this initial phase was called-

EROS: I want you NOW!

This is the physical /sexual attraction high at the start- it’s powerful, exhilarating and quite life affirming according to Aristotle and his white beard friends- I agree! It is biological- you lust and desire to be with your partner- your bodies connect easily and having this new sex can be incredible. You learn and discover each other's bodies. Sadly, this fervent passion doesn’t last- they reckoned after about a year and a half this fades and is replaced by a different type of love. One that involves friendship. But I believe, personally, with some effort and imagination a good sex life can go on for many many years. 

PHILIA: A lover who is your best friend- yes please!

Yes, who doesn’t want to marry (or at least co-habit indefinitely) with their best friend? The one who just kind of ‘gets you’ in a way many others don’t. The one who you would donate a kidney to should they need it. The Greeks maintained that being good friends with your lover,  actually enjoying their company, sharing common interests and being open to new ones, asking questions and being open to new things can sustain a good relationship. You do not have to be 'the same' or indeed have similar life experiences but in order for something to last it is pretty important you show an interest in your lover's world. It may not interst you, but if you love someone you will at least try...

Next up the third and most challenging part of love- 

AGAPE: The willingness to accept the person as a whole

You love them, you even love their flaws and their faults because you know they will try to be a better person every day. They will not take criticism as something personal, but rather as a loving suggestion, to sustain the good and calm vibes for as long as possible. Many people don't set out to start a fight- they just want to express themselves and be heard, so listen up brother! Everyone has their faults and humans are imperfect! Although many humans are just assholes. Don't fall in love with an asshole! AGAPE is the part of love where we are willing to show compassion and sympathy for our partner’s flaws- their jealousy, their arrogance, their complexity, their laziness-  and all those other very difficult and sometimes relationship ending traits. AGAPE doesn’t last forever either but it reminds us that love isn’t about just admiring the good virtues a person displays- it’s about accepting their shitty side too!

So there you have it- LOVE- not for the faint hearted! I guess it all boils down to a few simple things- honesty, communication and respect. Be honest with your heart and be honest with your lover's heart. Communicate calmly and clearly the issues that are causing pain and difficulty. But most of all respect that each human is like a flow of water. They are destined to follow their own natural journey, you cannot redirect people's flow in order for them to fit into your 'ideal'- people will not change and you cannot control them. Hopefully your flow and their flow will gently amble side by side, never disturbing the peaceful path of the other. 

Your soul will guide you, it always knows the way!

(And, if after all that wisdom and honesty, your love life it still doesn’t work out - fuck it-  don't blame me- blame The Ancient Greeks!)

x

These be my thoughts:

1. Be financially independent.

2. Be emotionally healthy. You and you alone are responsible for your inner and deepest fulfilment for the rest of your life.

3. Love and take pleasure from your physical body. Your body is merely an outer case made from flesh and bones. It is the least most interesting part of you.

4. Give

5. Don't tell lies.

6. Try to put others first knowing it's not always easy or possible. Just try.

7. Exercise and move your body everyday.

8. Don’t hold back the tears- let ‘em flow baby!

9.  Eat well

10.      Drink well and be merry

11.                  Music makes everything better.

12.                  Work energetically.

13.                  Regularly bathe in nature.

14.                  Don’t have overly high expectations of others- you’ll only feel let down, rather have high expectations of yourself knowing you’ll disappoint yourself too from time to time.

15.                  Eating a pack of cheese and onion Taytos at any time of the day or night is perfectly acceptable.

16.                  Be prepared to be alone.

17.                  Don't call me princess for god sake - I'm not waiting to be saved by any bloody prince!

18.                  Invest in high quality curtains- they’ll last lifetimes.

19. The universe will reward you for taking risks on its behalf.

20.                  Put good quality lipstick on your lips every day and smile!

21.                  Search for meaning in life- but know you’ll not find any mind bending answers in any one place.

22.                  Laugh as freely and as frequently as is humanly possible.

23.                  Learn how to listen deeply.

24.                  Reflect often on your actions and how they may be affecting you and those around you. I’ve never thought it wrong to overthink our emotions/actions.

25.                  Fight laziness.

26.                  Don’t curse excessively. Find a better word and use that instead.

27.                  Life will make you suffer- this is inevitable.

28.                  Please clip your toenails in the privacy of a bathroom- thanks.

29.                  Be swept off your feet at least once knowing it probably isn’t going to last. Only partake in casual sex if your heart can handle it.

30.                  “Romantic” Love is largely a commercially driven pile of rubbish.

31.               I love pigs.

32.                  Love’s success or lack thereof may well boil down to the little things in the end, the shared workload, the selfless dependability, the give and take of duties and the balance of lovingly putting each other or children first as much as is possible. Love doesn't exist as a thing in its own right I don't think. Its just about giving really, I think. At 80 years old when all the distractions of life are gone and we're not so busy doing what we have always done, stimulating each other’s brains through good conversation, recalling special memories shared together and lifting each other's soul through raucous laughter might be all that is left.

33.                  Ultimately life is a bit of a lottery anyway, some get luckier than others or make more luck for themselves. At least try give yourself a good chance from the off because despite your best efforts things might still not work out. See number 27. Number 27 and number 22 are inextricably linked.

34.                  Materialism is vulgar.

35.                  Travel solo with absolutely no definite idea where you’re going.

36.                  Being a mother is a truly remarkable thing, but know that it is not the sole purpose of life as a female. There are many different levels of sisterhood. None is higher or greater than the other.

37.                  Quality over quantity- pass time in the company of good and real friends, don’t fake it in an effort to avoid being on your own.

38.                Good communication skills are essential.

39.                  In the end what others think of you is none of your business.  This is your life so just be true to it and to yourself.

40.           Now....a pint of Murphy's and a pack of cheese and onion tayto would be lovely- nice one, cheers!

I Complete Me

 “You complete me”, said Tom Cruise to Renée Zellweger as she stood doe- eyed across the room from him in the movie, Jerry Maguire. For many it was one of the stand out warm and fuzzy moments of the movie and for others and I refer to myself here when I say I think Jerry was very wrong.  I disagree with the idea that one single person can “complete” another.  A loved one should surely compliment you and add greatly to your existence, but that little utterance seems to infer that until you meet a life’s partner you are not fully complete as a person in your own right! What the hell is that about?

 

As long as you feel you need to have something be it a person an object or an experience in order to be complete then you are not yet complete. I've learned this the hard way. To be complete means to be thoroughly serene with things JUST as they are, knowing pleasure and pain will come and go and are largely surface phenomena. I feel complete now in my life, I feel in it my soul. There are still things I would still like but truthfully I need for very little anymore- my cup runeth over. This completeness has always been there on some level but as humans we get caught up in stuff..n stuff!

 

I’ve played a lot of different roles over the last nearly 38 years and although they’ve all been very instructive in my growth as a human they were making way for the one role I now feel most comfortable with- me! I’ve come to understand myself by knowing my true self only shows itself in each moment as I'm living it and accepting it. I am who I am in any given moment. We reveal ourselves not by showing the world who we are in a neatly packaged predictable definable box, no, but rather by the revealing of ourselves through honest interactions with others  as they naturally arise. 

 

Ultimately I want to share a lifetime with somebody whose company I actually really enjoy and ideally I'd fancy the pants off him too!  No big promises needed of endless love, marriage and  living happily after- not for me I don't think - just honest and open giving and receiving day in day out and more so during the tough times.  I am acutely aware I may not get all of these things because we don’t always get what we want. I may have to do some of it alone or differently but I do know what I want. Having had all these years to get to know myself, to know wild freedom as I’ve known it, to have known fear, joy, excitement, love, heartache, regret, forgiveness, risk and adventure too,  I have decided that I complete me.  So put that in your pipe and smoke it Jerry Maguire- ya gobshite!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hello Again Autumn

Autumn makes me long for much and for little.

It lures my hopeful heart into a sense of renewal with its crisp newness.

But all the while hiding behind its back the biggest bully of them all – Winter.

September leaves prepare themselves for the flamed dance of October.

Twirling together and bathing in a fading summer sun, in silky dresses of yellow, orange and cherry, they glide-

Before falling exhausted at the feet of a snowy cold December.

The golden green of my Irish soul takes comfort that life, much like Autumn, never stays the same.

Change will come like it always has done since time first got out of bed.

I will dance this Autumn and promise to bathe in whatever sunshine I see.

A Magical Moment

The law of thermodynamics states that energy cannot be created or destroyed, it simply changes state.

 “Hi Mom, are you doing anything today?” I enquired resting my coffee mug on the window sill. The brightness of this Sunday was welcome after a run of rainy dull days. I told her I’d call out to her shortly and hung up the phone.  Whilst dressing I peered into my wooden jewellery box and wondered what ear decorations I would wear for the day. I rummaged around and eventually plucked a very old pair of small diamond earrings that had once belonged to my late grandmother from West Cork. They’re not worn very often because they are extra special and fear of losing them keeps them hidden away.

 I hopped in to my car and made my way to my mother's house on the other side of town. The thing I’ve come to notice about my mother’s house is the energy that fills the house; the vibe there is usually fun, wise, calm and always comforting.  I love calling out to see her. The colours, the trees, the Buddhas, the prayer flags, the sparkly butterflies and bumblebees on the walls, the smell of home baked brown bread and incense all beckon me inside...


 Mom was sitting on the couch going through old photos. I sat down and zoned in. “Ah look at this one Liz,  down in Bandon, with your grandmother at Coolmaine Beach.” “God that’s a while back now, at least 30 years ago”- and as I took the photo in my hand, I showed her the earrings I had decided to wear just a few minutes previously.  The photo was old and blurry.  In the background my granny’s outline was visible but not her face, her white stylish hair tousled out of its normal elegant shape by the wild Atlantic gusts, beside her my mother her face slightly more in focus.  I was beside my mother, aged around nine and facing sideways out to sea. To the right foreground my younger brother Des, covered in sand and mud and staring straight at our baby brother Jack, the pet of the family, who was stood right in the centre of the picture. . Behind the lens was my late father who died in 2014.

 “I’d like to be by the sea today Mam”, I decided and after a little time spent faffing around the place we got into the car and off we went towards West Cork.  As we journeyed along the country roads my mother reminisced a little about her childhood spent around these parts. She recalled times spent going to the blacksmith with her father for a new shoe for the horse.  “I don’t recall grandad coming to the beach with us much,” I interrupted her but I did remember him asking us “How many swims did ye have today?”- “We had seven swims Granddad,” we’d reply wiping the dried sandy snot-encrusted ice cream from our faces. “Oh my god aren’t you great altogether!” he’d say and we’d all straddle his long legs trying to pull off his ENORMOUS green wellies.

 We parked up at the beach and got out of the car. The waft of sea air and seaweed woke us from the drive. The wind was incredibly wild. The candy floss clouds hung large and brilliant in a very blue sky. We walked and talked about life- and death.  I’d had some acupuncture done that week and it had raised my interest in human energy and its power. “Where does all that energy go when we die?”

My mother began to talk about her own mother’s death and the energy struggle she had in letting go. She suffered enormously, her poor thin body fighting furiously each step of the dying process. She told me about a dream she had had, not long after granny died. “She was standing right there with my father, your grandfather in the dream”,  and she pointed to old, now disused steps in front of us. “Nothing else happened in the dream, they simply stood there together smiling at me, wearing their Sunday best- a handsome couple” We stopped in the exact spot for a few seconds and looked out to the sea. The silvery line of the horizon made a starting point for the racing waves . A couple of hardy kite surfers battling fierce wind zipped through our view.  On we rambled around the highways and byways. Eventually we made our way back to the altogether tamer sanctuary of my car. 

 I was fixing myself in the rear view mirror, unravelling my scarf,  when I noticed granny’s earring missing from my left ear- “OH NO - shit!”  We searched the ground around the car but no luck. I made my way back to the beach to begin the search. I retraced my steps along the wide expanse of the sea shore, in between seaweed and rock pools. I held the remaining earring in my hand tightly as I walked along, head down. I climbed the steps  from the beach to the road again.  I walked along scouring where the grassy ditches met the old stony walls. I was slowly beginning to accept I’d never find it. My heart sank with the loss of it. It’s gone, it would be impossible to find it! I was annoyed with myself but I thought at least I lost it here, in her home place, and by the sea, where we’d all swam and laughed and spent such nice times together like in that old photo. Nearing the abandoned steps that Mammy had mentioned in her dream and after one more glance around I accepted defeat. Turning on my heel and taking a few strides to walk back I gave one last concentrated look to my left... and there...literally out of the corner of my eye... lay a beautiful small diamond earring on the ground shining up at me...

Quantum physics tells us that the world is made up of energy. It states that it and matter are interchangeable. Human bodies are composed of divine energy of the soul in the form of body, thought and spirit. We are like ecosystems- open and not closed and at any given moment some 20 watts of energy course through our bodies- enough to power a light bulb. We gain this energy through food and the resulting complex chemical processes and when we die that energy, according to the Law of Energy Conservation, is not gone, it doesn’t just disappear. Not one bit of you is gone in fact, you are just more scattered and less orderly. This is very beautiful to me. I’d like to believe that the light and energy of anyone that has left this world, someone whom we have loved so very much and then lost, from each and every corner of this sometimes incomprehensibly sad but unrelentingly magnificent world, will continue to echo throughout space until the end of time. I believe the departed, from the tiniest of babies to the oldest of men and every soul in between, are still with us in some way because they never really left.

Niall

“Among the few hundred people we regularly encounter not very many are likely to be the sorts of exceptional individuals who exhaust our imagination with their good qualities, who strengthen our soul and whose voices we want consciously to adopt to bolster our better impulses.” –Alain de Botton.

My cousin Niall visits us often and few are the visitors that bring as much unbridled laughter and joy when they call as he does. The same routine takes place, his supremely dedicated and heroic mother- my aunt Paula, usually drops Niall to Ballyvolane shopping centre from Cobh.  A greeting from this young man; you can be certain, will be like no other you’ll have received that day. When Niall greets you a smile emerges that has made its way up through his body from the tips of his toes and shines out his face, a bright sunshine yellow moment caught in time. The loving grip of his warm soft hands takes yours, a veritable glove of compassion and understanding, fit for each and every season in time. We pack his bags, his coat and his trusty guitar into the car and away we go. Seatbelts on, radio off, phones cast aside, time to chat and catch up. He usually begins by telling us about his day and the week that was. The stories are not out of the ordinary, the usual exchanges about work, life and people all tied together with a healthy dose of devilment and mischief from himself!  Naturally, it’s not always sunshine and smiles and with great honesty he relays his episodes of frustration and annoyances but he tries with some help not to linger on the negative and usually  he’ll cap off a little moan with a typical “ah shur, that’s life."

Niall has Downs Syndrome, by the way. Downs Syndrome is complex and cannot be defined absolutely in a piece of writing such as this (or any) but for the most part some of the symptoms of his Downs (as I see them) are as follows:

      Eyes that slant upwards: a constant reminder that this boy, now a man, looks up to; and helps us look up to something bigger, higher and more wondrous than ourselves, whatever that may be.

     Narrow eye openings: so that his gaze can focus in on your heart more closely, forgetting all external distractions, as he talks with you, never at you or your body shape or clothes or hair, just a little red beating heart peeping out through the blue tinted window of a perfect soul, trying to connect with yours.

 A face that may be flatter like a full enchanting moon that would stop you in your tracks on a late walk home,  pale but strong enough to light up the darkest of nights.

     A head that may be smaller: not enough space nor need for too much ego satisfying intellect inside this particular skull. Niall’s intelligence comes from his heart, mainly. It is the heart and not the mind that is the centre of his being.


      Broad feet with short toes: Niall treads lightly on the soils of this Earth. He once told me that he likes to wash the feet of others, he said it makes him feel ‘holy’ and ‘close to God-my real father.' And then hilariously before you can say ‘Luke Kelly’ he will be up on those just washed twinkle toes, beer in hand and dancing wildly to the sound of some mad Irish jig, leapin’ and a hoppin’ and a high kickin' at a rate that would make Michael Flatley dizzy.  Again, we all laugh, god the laughter, sometimes one of us has to leave the room with the height of hilarity, tummy clutching, I-can't- breathe- laughing and the singing and the dancing goes on. This time yesterday we were working or reading or watching TV or giving out about something or other…

***

Who knows where any of us truly comes from? We are made biologically by our parents, their love for each other and life’s longing for itself.  Love, lust, need, want and science all ready to create something in one particular perfect or imperfect moment.

On the last night of Niall’s visit as I stood with him and gently bathed his troublesome left eye; one swipe only from the inside corner outwards with a warm cotton pad, I was again reminded to see the world through the eyes of this blue eyed Cork boy; to feel the essence of his pure heart and  to realise he is one of the most precious and valued visitors to our home and to our universe. We love him like no other.

   Take me home

…they were building another city perhaps, a perfect one, free from child labour, sex tourists and bad things.

It was a February evening, 2011 around 7 0’clock and she was standing at the corner of a bustling street in the city of Phnom Penh, Cambodia. The sun was about to leave the day. She stood and watched the orange rays of dusky sunlight cut through the brown hue of the mighty Mekong River. A gentle baby breeze held the humidity to ransom. The aroma of spicy street food reminded her that she had forgotten to eat dinner. The place hummed around her at brake neck speed, elephants, robe clad monks, taxis, motorbikes, travellers and children; so many children, all occupying their space in time and tide.

 

Within eyeshot a group of little boys sat on a dusty footpath taking a break from their evening shift of selling books. They beckoned her over- smiles with blackened teeth and waves with blackened palms. She knew these children now and they knew her. They knew she was not a tourist and could converse a little, they had seen her ordering her food in the market each morning, attempting small talk with the vendors. She wanted to go to them, to sit and laugh and play their old fashioned games but she couldn’t move, she was empty, so she smiled instead and just said hello.

They propped and stacked their raggedy old books up in towering piles, they looked to be making some sort of fort with them. Complete with old rubbish bags, scraps of old tyres and bottle tops, they were building another city perhaps, a perfect one, free from child labour, sex tourists and bad things. They were in their moment and she was in hers. As she studied, for one last time, their beautiful little faces, she felt the warm trickle of a salty tear race down her face.

The city then lit up before her eyes, flashing neon lights, signs for ‘live girls’ and ‘cold beer’ replaced the innocence of daylight. The Asian night arrives in quickly, without delay. Everyone and everything seemed to be in its rightful place. “This is life”, she thought- part beauty, part beast. 

“Bong Srey, your taxi is here”, came a voice waking her from herself.  “We go to airport now, time to go home. “Thank you”, she smiled politely. “You come back to Cambodia sometime?” he quizzed as he lifted her bag into the boot; the very bag that had brought her on so many other adventures around the world but this one felt vastly unrelated. She managed to exhale out the words, “I hope so” before the wave of an enormous sob crashed into her soul; big tears flowed and she was helpless to stop them so she did what her wise mother had taught her to do, lean into the pain and it will pass. She cried like a baby.

   The taxi melted in to the night and she was gone.

 

                                                                     It took (rugby) balls.

“Great win, wasn’t it?” he said. “Incredible really, an enormous occasion, much more than just a game of rugby,” I replied, noticing his wide smile and big blue eyes. We were both sat on the 9pm train out of Dublin’s Heuston station en route to Cork. It was the 25^th of February 2007 and Ireland had just beaten England off the pitch in Croke Park in a game that had truly transcended sport.

There was a striking silence in the carriage, broken only by  intermittent rustle of  newspapers, the crinkle of tayto crisp bags, the frizzing crack of (much needed) Lucozade bottles being opened and the sharp snap of another heavenly paracetamol tablet being released from its blistery foil. It was obvious to the world and her mother that a good 99% of the punters on this train had been celebrating the night before and were now happily (albeit with great tiredness) basking in the warmth of the incredible victory.  It was also obvious that a large proportion of them were  hungover, as was I.

Opposite me was a white haired gent, an older man, in his seventies maybe. He was devouring (with some satisfaction I imagine) the sports section of the paper. Every so often I noticed how he would lower his newspaper and sneak a quick glance at me and the blue eyed "joy" sitting beside me.  The boy’s name was Seán ( not real name) from West Cork  ( real place) and he was utterly lovely. A big strong guy, messy dark brown curls framing a strikingly rugged but kind face. The train journey flew by as we chatted and laughed like old friends. There was a frisson of something in our exchanges that could have been mistaken for mild flirtation- whatever it was, it was great and I was quite happy to go with it! Seán had a friend with him too, but he didn’t talk much, listening to his music mainly, and at times it felt like myself and this fine thing were the only two people on the train.

“Oh good for you,” I gushed (a little too much) as he explained that he was very soon due to leave his job in Cork and take flight to Australia. “I’ve just returned myself,” and on went the conversation about travel and its merits. “But the Celtic Tiger is roaring loudly here I said, maybe you should stay around for another bit? His feet were too itchy he explained – “when it’s time to go, it’s time to go, you know yourself,” he confided. Did I ever. No stopping this one I thought to myself. Nor would I want to- kindred spirit and so on. Ah well, timing is key.

“This is me, I think.” Mallow train station. I smiled politely as the gentle giant retrieved my case from the overhead storage. “It was really nice chatting to you, “he smiled broadly at me. “ You too and the best of luck with everything.” And off with me, scarf on, leather jacket zipped up tightly in readiness for the bitter cold that awaited me outside. Waiting by the train’s door I checked my watch, just after 11pm, my body was exhausted and I longed for my bed.

“Will I?  Ah, no way, no, not my style, and there are too many people around and I’m too hungover AND shur what’s the point? he’s leaving the bloody country…! But he was so lovely and they say you should do the things that scare you, but no, I’m not going to , stop Liz, stop now, just leave it”- These were my thoughts. Just as the last thought slid upwards into the ether I decided to go for it. Just do it.

I reached into my handbag, wrote down my name and details on a post it note and began the incredible nerve wracking walk back down the long narrow aisle of the carriage, back to Seán (swoon), the mute friend and Mr. Newspaper man. I stood and looked down at him in his seat.

 “Hi again there…Seán. I cleared my throat. “So, I continued, I just thought I’d give you my name- and email- you know- just in case you ever want to- well- you know- contact me or meet up again sometime, or maybe just let me know how you’re getting on down under or whatever – I just thought…..am, maybe it might be handy (oh my good GOD- what am I doing?!!!), mmm, it doesn’t matter really, shur whatever…”. And with that I all but threw the piece of paper at him in a moment of utter panic and fear.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing came out of his (gorgeously formed) mouth  for what felt like five minutes, (which of course, in reality, was only a few ),  but he did struggle to talk, he was in shock I think. Then at last he blurted out: “Oh right, yeah, fair play, thanks, ok, shur eh, well, shur, I dunno but thanks very much, ok”, he was shifting his eyes nervously from the post- it to me with embarrassed eyes and back again.  Thanks a lot, mmm”, he finished.

With a pounding heart, palms drowning in a sinful bath of vodka and red bull from the night before and lips that felt they were no longer part of my own face, I turned on my heel to flee, and as I did, Mr. newspaper man lowered his newspaper for the last time and like a scene from an old black and white movie gave me that “here’s looking at you kid” smile with a quick wink of his right eye.  I acknowledged his approval with a big smile. Ok, get me off this train…..NOW!

 “Are yiz alright there luv?” quipped a stern but friendly- ish voice from behind me. I was standing, neck craned with cheek feverishly splayed sideways onto the window of the door, willing myself desperately to see that Mallow sign on the horizon. “I’m grand thanks, just getting off now here in Mallow”, I assured him. You’ll be waiting girl, he laughed, shur we’re only in Charleville pet, Mallow is two stops away yet-  so you’ll have to return to your seat there now for another while, no sitting in between the carriages  what with the health and safety  and all ..and the train is full, back to your seat now please –
 “Em actually no, no, I’m grand here,” I said, “honestly, I’m grand.-" Back to your carriage now love, "No, I can’t, I actually cannot go back to my seat.” I’ll say it once more now love, back to your seat, please love”.                        

OH.JESUS.CHRIST.

After fruitless pleading for a few  more seconds but to no avail, I  very slowly returned  to my seat and through mortified silence sat there for another half an hour, clinging to my case, waiting. Nobody spoke a single word for the rest of the journey.

                                                                                     ***

I finally got home and clambered, exhausted, in to my lovely safe bed. Sleep came easily I can tell you. As for Seán, lovely, strong and blue eyed Seán, well he did go to Australia and emailed me to say he was having the time of his life and didn’t think he would ever come home and “wasn’t it a pity we hadn’t met earlier?.”  I never heard from him again.

God damn him to hell.