I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
I’ve never been one for public posting on the subject though the only thing to carry me through times of crawling through the depths of despair, is my faith in something greater- it is the only thing that’s ever restored my creativity and belief in things working out. And the power of gratitude… I moved to England at twenty one and my Mum helped me move over- I remember walking down the streets of Essex in new trainers and feeling like anything was possible! Life in South Dublin was not for me. And since then, she and my Dad have moved away too and I’ve moved house in the UK five times in the nine years I’ve been here. Friday will be move number six and I don’t own a bed! Gumtree is fabulous – I’ve found one with lilies on each of the four corners and it comes with a duvet that has birds on it… who could ask for anything more? I’m tired, moving van booked and daffodils going strong, the candles too. And maybe I’ve just got to have a reason to praise: The universe, for guiding me on each move, the moon for always being there and the light for never being far…like that duvet of comfort and remembering all there is to be grateful for in these times.
I moved house probably six or seven times before I was seven, I probably attended that amount of schools before then too – family working in America meant for many long flights and new towns so I should be immune to the upheaval. My new book collection is much to do with people who lived in solitary for their faith. Tonight my wish is that move number seven will be to a mountain in Mexico. Eight will be to France and Nine will end in Mayo; perhaps there I’ll settle like that great poem… xxx