Great Teachers

There was a Primary School Head I worked with in Devon - fabulous woman, who once called a halt in the middle of Assembly, got everyone to their feet, and taught them how to tango. Apart from having great fun, the school excelled on all the government-ey tick lists that schools live and die by these days.

And in Assembly, when the kids weren't dancing or singing, they would be sitting listening: she had this way of commanding the entire hall, asking everyong if they had their 'listening ears' on - and she'd make this gesture, as though she was slipping on magic invisible ears (as opposed to, you know, ordinary invisible ears...) - and a zillion kids would imitate her, and listen carefully with their magic ears.

So I've been thinking about listening today. When someone's speaking - relating an experience, or telling a story - about what kind of commentary the internal monologue comes up with. I remember reading something by Thich Nhat Hanh years back: about how often, our version of listening is actually just a process of comparison. Someone says something and we line it up by our own opinions, and if it's a match we consider it to be 'true' and if it's different then clearly 'false'. And I read on, thinking his conclusion might be to be less judgemental or more accepting, but his point was this: if that's how we listen, then whether the statement is 'true' or 'false' is irrelevant; if that is how we listen, we learn nothing.

And a decade later, I'm still getting the hang of those listening ears.

Have a great weekend, folks :-)

Stretchy Time

Ow. So, normally I write curled up on the sofa with laptop, a position free from ill-effects. Today - feeling all virtuous - I decide to sit at a desk, assume an ergodynamic (biodynamic? thermodynamic?) position. Maybe it's from sitting still for too many hours, but...

Ow.

Off to launch myself into a class of Yoga for Twangs of the Back & Neck Variety... God bless yoga; any exercise that ends with a 'meditative period of relaxation' has my vote. That's right, I may appear to be napping, but actually, on a cellular level, I can feel the burn.

Sunshiney things

Apparently the voyage of my belongings across the high seas is nearing an end... It's funny, the odd things you miss: a seascape, a dinky laundry basket, margarita glasses (sigh).

And of course, often I reach out to look up a quote in a book, and of course, it's not yet here. (God bless Project Gutenberg and a zillion other resources for their efforts in compiling e-texts; they've saved the day on myriad occasions.)

I was trying to remember a line from a poem - I think it's MacNeice - that I always associate with dappled sunlight, particularly those big medallions of gold in the leafy shade of a forest floor. Anyhoo, the line is something like 'Close your eyes, there are doubloons beneath your lids...' - which is just the feeling when you step through a sunlit forest, passing through darkness and light.

And that sparked off another image - of sunlight and sculptures underwater - from Jason de Caires Taylor. After meandering through his gallery, I watched a short film on his work, and slideshows of how the sculptures change over time - by the end I was thinking 'Why isn't art being installed all over the ocean floor?' - it just seemed such a fantastic environment and medium. Divers and snorkellers could have even more treaty things to discover in the depths...

A Most Treaty Day

So, there I was, driving back from a delightful Book Club meeting, and a lovely series of cappuccinos with a friend (yes, the Fabulous Baking Lady - wedges of lemon drizzle cake AND marble layer cake seated beside me, looking all "Forget Granola, Eat Me For Breakfast...") and my mobile starts ringing like crazy...

News is out.

The Stinging Fly Prize 2008 has been announced. And it's, er... me.

Who is sitting here, thrilled and surprised-all-over-again and very happy to be surrounded by the sweetest congratulatory emails and calls and cards (I know! Some people are that quick off the mark).

So, it means I'll be spending a glorious fortnight in the Tyrone Guthrie Centre at some point this year. Can't wait!

The judge's report for the Stinging Fly Prize can be read over here.

Thanks to everyone for the good wishes; you guys are the best. Just adorable...

Anyhoo, I should probably be getting back to the pressing business of being delighted. Busy busy...

Local opinions, for local people

The social scene this weekend was filled with colour...

A visiting sailing group got a smidge raucous (this was beyond broken glass, we're talking stealing heritage photos from one of the pubs). And suddenly I felt very local, disapproving along with everyone else about the troublemaking youth-of-today-type visitors (because when we've drunk too much, we remain charming, witty company. A sheer delight to be with. I'm just sure of it).

Anyhoo, that local feeling continued last night, when a friend of my brother's was staying over. Within seconds of entering the pub, curious parties drew close. And suddenly, there were gauntlets of local opinions to run. The guy was appraised, scrutinized, interrogated, challenged - "we're very protective of Orlaith here" - and while not formally overtly threatened, there were veils a'plenty.

Seriously, meeting my family would have been easier. Or you know, some feral Rottweilers...

Pretty funny, though :-)

Friday in Reverse

Seriously, this is all back to front.

So having spent - let me think... yes, the entire day socialising (and my sister must be wincing painfully at the mere thought), I am finally sitting down for my quiet time. A little reading, a little research, then writing.

So if everyone could keep the noise down to a reasonable level, that'd be great :-)

Have a fabulous weekend, folks.

[PS - quiz went well: we weren't exactly trailblazers but we didn't totally suck. Score!]

D is for delightful / And try and keep your trousers on...

Today's been all about catching up on music: news of a guest spot by Elvis Costello (reverent pause) led me to Fall Out Boy; and I've been breaking in the latest from Interpol, Editors, Arcade Fire, Glasvegas and The Ting Tings. And of course, Arctic Monkeys, with their delightfully playful lyrics.

And in other news: there's a pub quiz on tonight - a perfect opportunity for me to discover what's been happening locally and globally. And a friend has just texted for me to come out and appreciate the phenomenal sunset - the sky is filled with pinks & lilacs... very purdy. Off I go :-)

Hidden in plain sight

A tweet from Jonathan Carroll earlier led me over to http://secrettweet.com/.

This kind of stuff always takes me by surprise. Page after page of secrets: surreal, funny, heart-warming, poignant, tragically sad.

There's something very voyeuristic about it, even though the secret-sharers have chosen to post. I don't know that I'd visit again, but it was a fascinating glimpse...

Elegant life

A little overcast; one of those mornings where the breakfast-time candles seems extra-glowy...

Anyhoo, I meant to blog this weeks ago, but it fits perfectly into a peaceful, serene morning such as this:

Weekend images

Ah, another lovely weekend.

Valentine's Day, I got all Benjamin Buttoned-Up - what an inspired adaptation. Sniffle sniffle. I'm resisting rereading the original story for the simple reason that F. Scott Fitz. always has me shaking up a batch of martinis within five pages, and my martini glasses - and cocktail shaker, sigh - are still on the high seas. But they approacheth...

Post-BB, the day was filled with kidlets (and a wicked chocolate & ras-a-bee cake with probably the best ganache I've ever tasted. Well done Tara!). Anyhoo, some photos were taken of me and Lily...

...which brought to mind another photo, with another niece, on her first day on the planet.


I know, I have just the one expression.

Of course, these days Molly is all grown up, being very nearly four...