Nuala Ó Faoláin

Amazing interview on Marian Finucane's saturday morning show with Nuala Ó Faoláin this morning. She was diagnosed with cancer about 6 weeks ago. She is 67 or so.
Her outlook could be referred to perhaps as "bleak". She has little that she feels excites her and she really doesn't know what it was all about; what life is all about. She mentioned that we need to inquire (I can't remember the word she used exactly). She spoke about the stuff she's accumulated, the curtains in her room in New York, for example but also the knowledge, information, ideas she's accumulated and that it will all be gone.

Her despair, she was clear in pointing out, is her despair and no one else's.

And at the end, Marian asked "And I don't know if you can give people advice from your experience?" to which Nuala responded a breathy "no". And that is marvellous. Often the idea of self-help authors grates on me - why do they think their way of doing things is of interest to others? To me, life is about figuring it out and knowing yourself and what works, what doesn't, what might, what could... but the lessons learnt are yours for you. Humility is most important and to be admired.

In the programme, Nuala did what she set out - she provided the other book-end to match the book-end that is her memoir. She deserves the death she hopes for. Since my granny and grandad's deaths, sometimes I am comforted by the thought that maybe we do have a little control at least over our own death. May death for Nuala not come too fast and may she re-discover nature and books and being light-hearted before she lets the darkness take her. She did mention food, friends and music as things which have given her pleasure recently.

Arvo Part

Was at concert sung by the Mornington Singers in the Pro-cathedral tonight. They sang beautifully: Martin, Kreek, Tavener, Part, Harris, Elgar (arr. by Cameron) and Ní Dhubhghaill.

But mostly I was blown away by Part. And reminded of the concert of his in the National Concert Hall in February. It was 'spiritual' for want of a better word.

His music keeps going; I wondered how he would stop, how the piece would reach a conclusion, and somehow it always did and I hardly noticed in the end how the end happened and yet it worked perfectly.

He came out on stage after the perfomance. A most modest, meek and yet very present man. Really lovely.

Cillín

Bro and I went out to Dalkey and strolled to the seafront at Coliemore harbour. There's a view out to Dalkey island - see picture taken just as dusk was falling. The builing standing up on the island is the Martello tower, but this posting is about the little church or cillín which is about situated about the middle of the island in this picture.
As a result of the visit, I had a chat with my uncle who is a historian of those times - what the idea of the small little church was. Who went in? Was mass held in it etc.
So he painted a very interesting picture. The monk or priest reading the mass was inside, along with the rich or the gentry who would be invited and the rest of the congregation stood outside on the "faiche". Sometimes the area outside the wee church would be covered in gravel.
It gave me a whole other view of faith and religion. Apart from the fact that the mass was probably in Latin and therefore not understood by the congregation - they couldn't even hear it. They were standing around outside, possibly in rain and wind, trusting whatever was going on inside. That was in the days before microphones, printing of mass leaflets and all those devices for involving the people.

more about Mamó

This almost continues on from the last post. I popped into a church recently while house hunting in the countryside. I shocked myself by addressing my prayer to Mamó. Not God but Mamó. She was the first person that popped into my mind in the church. And it wasn't the first time this has happened. It's too early yet whether to say that she answered my prayer but suffice to say that the next house we viewed looks very promising and needs following up.
In a dear diary entry, I must own up to a very poor performance with morning prayers/meditation. There's a spare mattress on the floor in my room which is getting in the way of the lotus chair - is that a valid excuse?! I know it's not.
Another recent event was the singing of the choir's annual mass. Most of the mass was read in Latin.

I will never forget you

My granny (mam's mam) gave me this picture - if that's the right name for it - I think she gave it to me at first communion time. She was a very Catholic woman, she went to mass every day. She had great faith and no doubt was shocked by her grand-daughter's inability to say the Angelus or the Rosary or even the Lord's Prayer (though I did know it in Irish and remember teaching it to myself in English as I lay in the spare bed next to her one night).
I always think of Mamó Má Nuad at Easter time especially. She always provided us with yellow paper napkins for the dinner table!
I miss her, and would love to have her around now to talk to her about my doubts and my efforts at all this finding God business. She very much tried to help me in this way and, perhaps as a last ditch attempt, would remind me that I always had a guardian angel with me - they would mind me and look out for me and I could ask them to help me. I think she told me to name my guardian angel because I remember trying out different names but don't recall if I decided on one.
My granny was an extremely intelligent woman but I wonder now if she explored other faiths. I don't think she blindly followed Catholicism, I am sure she questioned it and yet it must have provided her with the answers she required.
I don't really like displaying pictures and objects - the little thing shown here hangs in my room in my parents house, I haven't brought it with me. I don't have pictures of friends or family adorning my walls. I think this can be showmanship and that it's more important to hold these things in one's heart and not display them to others where they could be misunderstood. And so I think I've decided not to post a picture of Mamó here.

Different Views

I'm in my parents house for Easter, it's almost better than a library. As I'm on this mini quest I've been scouring the bookshelves for holy books. I avoided taking a look at the bible this time around.
Véarsaí Roghnaithe as an Quran Beannaithe (Chosen verses from the Holy Quran)
My first reading of the Quran or understanding of the way it is The Book and that it should be read by all. I like the lack of emphasis placed on Jesus, Mohammed and other prophets - the focus is on Allah. I think I'll be doing more reading of the Quran, in Irish or English - my Arabic wouldn't be up to it.
We had a dinner-table discussion about religions based on books, and whether some anthropologists are right in concluding that religions were founded as societys answer to "what to do with dead people".
Dánta Dé (Poems for God)
This is a beautiful book that a neighbour passed on to us. Published in 1928. The poems or prayers are set to music. They are laid out thematically eg. Morning and Evening, Easter, The Feast of St. Brigid and so on. I lool forward to taking out my violin and tackling the melodies. The Irish is written in the old script so it's a little tricky and even the wording is a little beyond me but it struck me that morning prayer could be more pleasant (for me) if it were sung.
The Holy Ghost Hymnal
My Aunt's name is on this little book, it seems to have been a schoolbook. The hymns are in Irish, English and Latin with the music provided.
Zen Seeing, Zen Drawing
The subtitle for this book is "Meditation in Action". I recently bought myself a new diary, the one I've been using for the past few years is finally full. I stood at the shelf in the stationery shop debating with myself why I used to choose diaries and notebooks with a spiral spine, it was beacuse I used to sketch and found it more comfortable to be able to fold over the pages, but I concluded that I haven't sketched in a long time and so there was no need for the spiral binding and I bought a more typical diary. And now, upon discovering this book and reading how drawing things really help to see them, and remembering how much I enjoyed sketching - I'm regretting my choice of new diary...! I haven't read much of this book yet but the core idea is undebatable.

Aoine an Chéasta

Good Friday - I went with my uncle and Godfather to Bolton Abbey for the 3pm services. I was expecting singing monks, though I'd been there before a few years ago and should have remembered there was no singing in Latin.
I couldn't get my head around the Christ thing. I'm very taken with the idea of God and am certainly trying to "find" Him and make room for a spiritual or religious or greater force in my life and lifestyle. But the adoration of a man was too much. It is claimed he is the son of God, an ordinary person living an ordinary life, sent on earth to redeem all humans. I couldn't take it in. I didn't like the idea even though I've been raised with it.
The sermon spoke of forgiveness which, my uncle had earlier claimed when we spoke in the car, is, in his mind, a central idea of Christianity.