Friday, February 26, 2016

"Alphabet of Life"

Accept Differences       Be Kind      Count Your
  Blessings    Dream     Express Thanks    Forgive 
Give Freely          Harm No One    Imagine More
Jettison Anger    Keep Confident   Love Truly
Master Something    Nurture Hope Open Your
Mind Pack Lighty  Quell Rumors  Reciprocate 
Seek  Wisdom      Touch  Hearts      Understand
Value Truth  Win Graciously Xeriscape Yearn
For Peace  Zealously  Support A Worthy Cause

~ Unknown

~ Beannaichte'
 26 February, 2016

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

"In Pastures Green"

has set me
in a place of pasture ~
 In Pastures Green?
Not always; sometimes He
Who knoweth best, in kindness 
leadeth me.
In weary ways, where heavy shadows be;
Out' of the sunshine warm and soft and bright,
Out' of the sunshine into the darkest night.
I oft would faint with sorrow and affright,
Only for this~ I know He holds my hand. 
so whether in a green or desert land,
I trust Him, though I do not understand.
And by Still Waters?
No, not always so;
Oft times the heavy tempests round me blow.
And o'er my Soul the waves and billows go.
But when the storm beats loudest 
and I cry ~
Aloud for help 
the Master standeth by ~
And whispers to my Soul,
"Lo it is I."
Above the tempest wild I hear Him say:
"Beyond the darkness lies the Perfect Day.
In every Path of thine, I lead the Way."
So whether on the hill-top high and fair
I dwell, or in the sunless valley,
 where the shadows lie~
What matter?
He is there.
Yea, more than this,
 where'er the Pathway lead ~
He gives me no helpless, broken reed.
But His own Hand,
sufficient for my need.
So where'er He leadeth
I can safely go;
And in the Blest Hereafter,
I shall know ~
Why in His Wisdom
He hath led me so.

~ From"Prayers of an Irish Mother,"
Compiled by, Mary Teresa Dolan
Dublin, Ireland

~ Beannaichte' 
23 February, 2016

~ To my Sister, my Irish Twin;
Sharon, May Our Lord continue to hold you, in the Palm, of His Mighty Hand.
 I Love You ~ Always!
 Your sister,
3 March, 2012

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

"Soul- Shards"

    ~ I do not think a day of my life will go by, that I will not think of you.

    You are my best Friend.

    You will be leaving this morning, to go to a different place, for continued care.

    I will miss you, dear Friend. I will miss you.

   Even though somewhere in the deeper recesses of my mind, and heart, I know it is time. Yes, it is time.
   You leave behind, many Soul-Shards. Yet, you take many with you, too.

   Some will be painful, as they will bring forth memories of the years we shared, together. Years that can no longer be.

   Others will leave me with a smile. It will be so easy, as we  laughed, and sometimes cried, about so many of the same things.

   When I see someone Signing, I will think of you.  I will  always be grateful for the wonderful language, that you and I shared. Yet, I will be sad, because I can no longer share it with you. 

   I will look at your chair. I will no longer see you struggle, as you begin to stand.     

   But you have always been brave, and you will continue to stand, without me.

   I will be grateful, for you taught me so much about patience and courage, in the face of harsh struggle.

   I will do my best to remember, I was always at your side to encourage you.  I must have learned how to be brave, too. 

   I will miss your silence, and your Hands that spoke to me, about so many things.

  I will continue to speak with my Hands, because it is a part of me, and who I am, after all these years...

  I will wish you every happiness, because that is so very easy to do. I hope you will wish me the same.

   But, for now , dear Friend; I will be grateful for every Soul-Shard you leave behind.

   Carry mine with you, easy, as I do not want your memories of me, to become a burden.

   And always remember; I am your Friend.

   I will never forget that you are my Friend ~ Forever.

                                                 Alicia O'Hara c.
                                                                  Written 3 December, 2011
                                                                 Posted on 17 February, 2016 
~To Dean: Tomorrow, is your Birthday. I wish you every happiness, on your Special Day, and for each new day, that is yet to come. ~ May Our Lord continue to hold you in the Palm of His mighty Hand ~ Forever!  ~ Happy Birthday! ~ 3 December, 2011
                                                                     ~ Bhur Chara,

Thursday, February 11, 2016

"Safe at Anchor"

Here  I  stand  Alone  again
Reaching  out  Across  the Room 
Quietly  the  Sun's  gone Down
The  Sailors  Seek  the  Harbour

Look  at  USailing  in
Decks  Awash  but  still  Afloat
And  now  the Winds  come Up
TRock  us  on the Water 

In  the  Calm  before  the Storm
Sunny  Days  and  Smoother Waters
When  we  Hit  the  Seventh  Wave
WFound  a  Line  and Caught  Her

Look  into  my  Eyes 
Let  me See  Where you"ve  been Sailing
Like  you,  I  have  Felt  the Storm
And  Heard  the wild  Waves Wailing

Steer  Clear of  the  Shore
The Coast  is  Rough  and Rocky
It's  the  Deepest  Channel  that  Runs  Most  True
The  Brightest  Stars  that  Mark  Her

Steady  as  she  Goes
There's  NTurning  Back  the  Sailor
With  the Ship  on Course  and  the  Sea  winds  Fair
There's  NNeed  to Fail  her

Riding  out  the  Storm
Like  a  Ship  Safe  At  Anchor
Waiting  out  the  Long  Voyage
Round  the Cape  of  Hope  will  take  her.


~Kate Wolf

11 February, 2016 

Thursday, February 4, 2016


On the day when the weight
deadens on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.
And when your eyes freeze
behind the gray window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue,
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of the ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the Nourishment of the Earth be yours,
may the Clarity of Light be yours,
may the Fluency of the Ocean be yours,
may the Protection of the Ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow wind
wash these words around you,
an invisible cloak
to Mind your Life.

~ John O'Donohue
~ From; "Echoes of Memory"

~ Beannaichte'
4 February, 2016 

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

"A Poet's Death is His Life"

              The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth, while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste to the gardens. There in the suburb stood an olde hut heavily laden with snow and on the verge of falling.  In a dark recess of that hovel was a poor bed in which a dying youth was lying, staring at the dim light of his oil lamp, made to flicker by the entering winds.  He was a man in the Spring of life who foresaw fully that the peaceful hour of freeing himself from the clutches of life was fast nearing.  He was awaiting Death's visit gratefully, and upon his pale face appeared the dawn of Hope; and on his lips a sorrowful smile; and in his eyes Forgiveness.
              He was  a Poet perishing from hunger in the city of the living rich.  He was placed in the earthy world to enliven the heart of man with his beautiful and profound sayings.  He was a noble Soul, sent by the Goddess of Understanding to soothe and make gentle the human Spirit.  He gladly bade the cold earth farewell without receiving a smile from its strange occupants.
              He was breathing his last and had no one at his bedside save the oil lamp, his only companion, and some parchments upon which he had inscribed his heart's feeling.  As he salvaged the remnants of his withering strength he lifted his arms Heavenward, he moved his eyes hopelessly, as if wanting to penetrate the ceiling in order to see the stars from behind the veil of the clouds.
              And he said, "Come,oh beautiful Death; my Soul is longing for you.  Come close to me and unfasten the irons of Life, for I am weary of dragging them.  Come, oh sweet Death; and deliver me from my neighbors who looked upon me as a stranger because I interpret  to them the language of the Angels.  Hurry, oh peaceful Death, and carry me from the multitudes who left me in the dark corner of oblivion because I do not bleed the weak as they do.  Come, oh gentle Death, and enfold me under your white wings, for my fellowmen are not in want of me.  Embrace me, oh Death, full of love and mercy, let your lips touch my lips which never tasted a mother's kiss, nor touched a sister's cheeks, nor caressed a sweetheart's fingertips. Come and take me, my beloved Death."
             Then, at the bedside of the dying Poet appeared an Angel who possessed a supernatural and divine beauty, holding in her hand a wreath of lilies.  She embraced him and closed his eyes so he could see no more, except with the eye of his Spirit. She impressed a deep and long and gently withdrawn kiss that left an Eternal smile of fulfillment upon his lips.  Then the hovel became empty and nothing was left save parchments and papers which the Poet had strewn about with bitter futility.
              Hundreds of years later, when the people of the city arose from the diseased slumber of ignorance and saw the Dawn of Knowledge, they erected a monument in the most beautiful garden of the city and celebrated  a feast every year in honour of that Poet, whose writings had freed them.  Oh, how cruel is man's ignorance.
~Kahlil Gibran
2 February, 2016