This Introverted Irish Girl’s Guide to St Patrick’s Day

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.   ~ W. B Yeats

“The Lake Isle of Innisfree” perfectly sums up how I feel about life in general, but is especially pertinent on St Patrick’s Day; not because it was written by an Irish poet about life in rural Ireland.  But because I seek peace, quiet, and solitude.  I long to be in a place where people are outnumbered by birds,beasts, flowers, and trees. I will celebrate a not so distant St Patrick’s Day (and many other days) in a place just like the poem mentions. Because I need it to thrive.  But for now, I am in a city in a country far away from Ireland.  And I live among a bunch of people who pretend to be Irish for one day. How do I know they are imposters –  they wear silly hats, drink green beer, and act appallingly in public in the middle of the afternoon.  I choose to not so silently judge these people.  But its ok – because I am outlining how I choose to observe the day of the Saint  who got some metaphorical snakes to follow him out of Ireland, and those rowdy types can feel free to judge my choices.

*I spent the majority of the day spring cleaning. St  Patrick’s Day seems like a good day to get rid of dirt and toxic energy. Everyone knows that weren’t actually snakes in Ireland during the 5th Century, and snakes were most likely a metaphor for evil (you know Adam and Eve and the apple). I figure cleaning is a good way to honour Ireland’s Patron Saint.
*I have a drop of whisky, with a little bit of soda, and lemon. It’s irish whisky (obviously).
*Usually I would make my mom’s potato pancake recipe, but Im not eating potatoes right now, so dinner is salmon and asparagus (green has to figure into this day somehow).
*Tonight we will watch one of my most favourite movies of all time, The Secret of Roan Irish. Its an incredible Irish fable. You can view the trailer here.

And to prove that I am not some total judgemental prude – I leave you with this.

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Sláinte.

 

 

Rainy Days and Mentors

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I have a mentor. Or I had a mentor when I had a business. I guess now you could call him a friend who is much wiser than most of the people I know. He is kinda sage like. He also understands the way my brain works, which makes him unusual. Basically he is around to bounce ideas off of. And then helps me focus the ideas into something real or at least something a bit more focused (after a couple hours of chaotic brainstorming). Sometimes he puts ideas into my head. But usually the conversation between us starts off like 2 bouncing balls – they start out manageable – but with each bounce they get more and more excited and out of control.

Its been exactly a year since I decided to shut down my studio (which I closed in July of 2016), and I have spent this past year walking around in a daze. I have been so lost. I have ideas, but they don’t stick. I want to move to Spain – but I don’t have the money – because Im paying off studio debt and trying to save during this time, has proven impossible. I have wanted to relaunch the studio into something a bit different, something a bit entrepreneurial – but every time I seriously start thinking about it, I talk myself out of it.  And honestly, I really don’t want to work with children anymore- so its probably best that I just lay it to rest.

So to mark the one year anniversary of me making a decision – the mentor/sage/friend comes over to have a chat. Or give a tough love talk. The tough love talks take place during a walk in the rain. This is how it plays out (in actual fact, having tough talks and walking in the rain is a lesson he learned from me):

Mentor (him)- Lets go for a walk. Leave the umbrella inside.
Laura (me)- Im not up for it.
Mentor – Im not asking you.
Laura – …. sigh fine.
M  – You are not 14 and I am not your mother.  Lets go!

M-(starts singing a song about an oyster whose greatest dream is to be a part of a gourmet meal to be eaten).
L- smiles a little.  joins in but I don’t know the words so I just make them up. I suspect he has written the song -but the tune is too good to be his.
M- Stops singing.  Ready to talk?
L. I guess. But I don’t have anything to say. I wasted the year, and I still don’t know what to do.
M. Ready to listen?
L- …..
M- Do something. Anything. If you don’t want to teach, don’t teach. Build skyscrapers out of lego if you want. Do anything but stop sulking. Tired of kids – thats ok. Kids are tiring and sometimes boring.
L-I just cant figure out what comes next, nothing feels right.

M- The universe is telling you to let go of this dream for awhile. You are injured- you cant even play guitar.You want to continue on this path? Because Im telling you – you have been here before.You either do something different, or you will stay in this place forever, and I know that isn’t what you want.The last time this happened – you changed the way you taught music – and it was completely unique. Change it again. Either musically or non-musically. Just change it.
L- OK
M-What are you going to do?
L-Stops walking and stares at a puddle. I am completely soaked by this point. I shake off some of the water, wipe off my glasses – look at the mentor and say – what do you think I should do?

M.  I think you should write a book. What do you think you should do?
—-
This isn’t the first time this has come up. Well, its the first time this has come up with him. But the suggestion isn’t a new one. I could probably be a fairly ok children’s book author. But his suggestion was to write a book about my method of teaching. A sort of manual – but in a reflective style.

I don’t know how to write a book. Other than starting with an outline, I know next to nothing about writing. But I’ve been thinking about this for several hours now, and I haven’t talked myself out of anything. I haven’t talked myself into anything either, but that’s neither here nor there.

The mentor strikes again.

*Photo Source – somersetman via flickr