The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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Location: Kilcullen (Phone 087 7790766), County Kildare, Ireland

Friday, November 05, 2010

moon rise over the heart land


letter from an english friend


About 20 years ago, my favourite uncle died – my Dad's older brother, Os.   I loved Os very much: he was a  gentle, quiet (almost silent) man -  a carpenter who had left school when he was about 12.  I loved him and he, without ever saying it, loved me.

Shortly after he died, his 'spirit' – something – he - came to me.   It wasn't a dream;  it wasn't an imagining.  Os came to me one night and smiled.  He led his long-since dead wife forward and said, "Look, here's your Auntie Ethel".  Then he looked sheepish, lost for words, and they left.  All the bond that I'd feared (foolishly – faithless bitch I am) death might break – it  was there again.
I have no doubt whatsoever that my Uncle Os is with God and that I will see him again.   It will be a fairly taciturn reunion – but I know that it will happen.  I'm a pretty hard-headed old girl, James, but I'm with Frances on this one.

I know.  Apart from seeing Uncle Os again, I don't know how or why I know, but I do.  (To be honest, I always have known.)

And now, because we have this certainty, we must laugh and use our lives well – oh, and also behave as kindly and respectfully as we can manage.  (It's not just God who has His eye on me – it's Uncle Os!)

Think on, young Jamesy, think on …

Love and prayers and – it is so good to be back in touch.  Now, are you sure you wouldn't like to visit?  I could ferry you through the howling gales and lashing rain.  Don't know how, quite, but we do have a fine quality of muddy slush.  English bog, dontcha' know?


PS  Do leave those Russian beauties alone – you don't know where they've been.  (Apart from Russia, obviously.)

Wednesday, November 03, 2010

just once

Just once... I'd like to see her again.

Tuesday, November 02, 2010

A Long Overdue Round Of Applause For The Man Upstairs

Ah thank you God for the deep azure perfection of the sky at dawn over the Wicklow mountains with the fine sweep of cloud tinged into a tapestry of gold by the firstlings of a glorious mid June sun.
Thank you God for the sighing breeze passing like a ghost through treetop and hedgerow, and wending its way like destiny across the eternal fields.
Thank you God for the sound of a thousand unseen birds singing creation into being as they have done since the beginning of time.
Thank you God for the lissom stirrings of the grasses.
Thank you God for the sheep baaing like a choir of praise and the bullocks belling a response.
Thank you God for the clarion call of life through the town of Kilcullen each morning, the sound of machinery from the building sites, traffic from the road, and the sweet anarchic laughter of the teenagers making their way to school.
Thank you God for the kiss of consciousness as I waken.
Thank you God for my sublime genius, which I might pretend not to have noticed because of my sublime modesty, but come on, who are we fooling here.
Thank you God for the pristine whiteness of the apple blossoms in the garden of my father.
Thank you God for Paddy Pup stealing the Dad's sandwich off the table which the Dad had rather foolishly left there while he was on the phone, and then the Dad nearly having a canniption, and bursting out with the classic line "the dog's after taking my bloody sandwich," only he didn't say bloody, but really Lord it was hilarious.
Thank you God for Esmerelda my car and her nifty tailfin and please let her pass her NCT test which is a month overdue.
Thank you God for baby Ryan.
Thank you God for my Yogic sister Marie coming in from the Bridge Club and groaning "the women are starting to call me Yogic Marie because of your bloody column," only she didn't say bloody.
Thank you God for the sight of the Mediterranean filled with mystic fire as the planed banked left over Roma on my first visit to Italy, and Lord I never forgot it.
Thank you God for the bluebells scattered through the Hill Wood in Monasterevin.
Thank you God for the chicken and broccoli bake special in the Chat And Chew which you will normally find me munching of a Wednesday afternoon while meditating on the vicissitudes of existence.
Thank you God for Aunty Mary's hens performing Bach's fugue in D minor and if that shower of fuguers waken me again at 5am, deeply spiritual gentle soul or no, I'll kill em all one by one.
Thank you God for Jess accompanying me in the car wherever I go and barking lustily at such cats as might be rude enough to show their faces as we drive.
Thank you God for the moment when I told Doctor Barn that I had turned my back on an old acquaintance from schooldays that came over to say hello in the bank, and Doctor Barn wrinkling his brow and musing in a professional doctory sort of voice "there's pathology there you know," and he's right I suppose, and I'm not proud of it, but as the Ger Kearins poem says "only when young can the tree bend for its foe," and well Lord I don't want to bear a grudge, but if you feel like smiting a few of those former members of the Oldbridge College Hitler Jugend, you'll hear no complaints from me, and if you want to drop thunderbolts on the appropriate snurds that's okay too, and I know Lord I know, but some of us spend half a lifetime making friends with our childhood, and I'll do my best with it, and I'll accept any help you send me, and I know I've hurt people too, and I hope they forgive me, and as for Doctor Barn, if I was dying I fully expect he'd wrinkle his brow and muse in a professional doctory sort of voice "you're dying you know."
Thank you God for the struggle.
Thank you God for the healing that comes with time.
Thank you God for renewal in the spirit.
Thank you God for the stillness before divine mercy.
Thank you God for showing me limitless power in the actions of people I would have thought were hopelessly weak.
Thank you God for the paintings of Josephine Hardiman particularly her snow scenes which are nearly as good as yours.
Thank you God for the bit in the Bible where Saint Paul has a row with Barnabas and the two of them go their separate ways, because I often find your followers insufferable and it's kind of reassuring to know Saint Paul had the same problem, and that other people had the same problem with Saint Paul, and it's funny that all our pain comes from people, and yet in truth when we move beyond the pain we see people are the glory of the creation.
Thank you God for Spanish Diana glaring at the occupants of a car that pulled into the kerb on main street Madrid right in front of us and nearly hit us just as we were about to cross the road, and her shouting at the car in fluent emotional Spanish lingo, and me saying "stop that you Spanish loon, we're in Spain, those people might be Spanish, they might have hot Spanish blood, you know better than to shout at Spanish people," and Lord I'm a howl when I'm terrified.
Thank you God for the warm embrace of Ireland welcoming me home whenever I ramble.
Thank you God for the gregarious good nature of the Irish which is a light to the nations.
Thank you God for the sight of a hedgehog ambling across the lawn at Mount Carmel, and praise you Lord for the dignity of creatures.
Thank you God for the flash of colour from robin redbreast at the back window of our kitchen.
Thank you God for the evening shadows lengthening, and the play of light on the roses, and the touch of memory that sunset brings.
Thank you God for the hour of victories.
Thank you God for the prayer "Jesus you are perfect love and perfect love casts out fear."
Thank you God for my Lutherans and Lord they're the finest.
Thank you God for the Mammy surfing the internet on the new computer and Lord finally I believe in miracles.
Thank you God for the thrill of night with the sky full of a million stars and the gospel shiver of wind in the trees.
Thank you God for the ancient faith.
Thank you God for the three years of Jesus public ministry and the mystery of his hidden life.
Thank you God for the three months of Aunty Marie's public ministry and the mystery of her hidden life.
Thank you God for Father Supple.
Thank you God for Sister Lelia, Sister Gemma, Sister Maureen, and all the crazy heroes.
Thank you God for the Pope and Lord he has a hard act to follow.
Thank you God for you.

Sunday, October 31, 2010