For the ones...

In my work as a writer and photographer, I have been blessed to meet the most remarkable of women, each who carry their own light, each to have a gift to bring to this world. I have met them in the best of times and in the most challenging of times. I have witnessed their deep pain and experienced their enduring joy. The strength of these women and girls is the backbone of the world. Their stories are the life-giving source of healing and hope. Today, on International Women’s day, I remember and honour them, for whether man or women,they are us, and we are them. This is for you. For the ones who love. For the ones who carry us onwards. For the mothers in us. And the lovers.For the ones who endure. For the ones who sacrifice.For the ones who give birth;  to children, dreams, desires, pain and progress.For the ones who grieve for us all. For the ones who don’t give up.For the ones whose voices are never heard. Them. Always for them.For the womb which was your first home in the world, and the woman who held you.For the ones who resist. And persist.For the music makers. For the artists. For the schemers.For the activists and the changemakers. For the homemakers and the breadwinners.For the ones who trust in another way.For the fighters. For the jokers. For the paradigm shifters.For the learners and the educators, the teachers and the students. For the guides, leading from the heart.For the one who plant and the ones who tend. For the carers and the givers.For the ones whose voices are never heard. Them. Always for them.For the ones leading the way and the ones laying the paths. For the bridgemakers, the weavers, the dancers. For those who are catalysing a new level of conversation and therefore connection.For the ones whose voices are never heard. Them. Always for them.For my great-grandmother, who was silenced and shut away, for being the woman that she was.For my grandmother, who worked until her bones bore the weight of her caring.For my mother, who gave birth to all this, and more.With love.

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A Little Tale of Failure, or is it?

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Failure, I have come to realise, looks very different when added to with time.Yesterday I had a realisation that what I once thought as failure was actually a massive blessing in disguise. Twenty years on, almost to the day, the memory hit me hard.I was walking through University College Dublin and passed the admissions building. Twenty years ago, in that very same building, I had signed myself out of college. I will never forget the feelings. I was so ashamed, so embarrassed, and thought I had utterly failed, especially my parents.I was 17 and had entered UCD with the full intention to complete an honours Science degree. My first year subjects were Biology, Chemistry, Physics and Maths. I had loved Biology while in school, got an A in my Leaving Cert, and somehow thought that it qualified me to sign up to all the rest of the sciences! I was mistaken, gravely so. By Christmas I was so off track I was about to fall off. I was overwhelmed, stressed, and falling far behind. I had never failed an exam in my life but I failed all my Christmas exams, except Biology. I remember getting 18% in my Chemistry exam which was returned to me covered in red corrections. I didn’t even understand the corrections. ‘What on earth was I doing? Why was I here? And why was I feeling so utterly lost?’ Mostly I remember the feelings of shame.I knew I needed to tell my parents. I was fearing it because they had already paid my admissions fee and in leaving college it would not be reimbursed. I was so embarrassed. I don't remember the moment I told them I wanted to leave but I do remember the response. It was filled with so much love and compassion; so much understanding. They could sense I was on the wrong track too.The day when I had to sign out of college my father accompanied me too. He walked me up to the admissions building, took me by they hand and told me that it would all be OK, that I’ll figure it out. Afterwards, when I had signed what felt like release papers, he gave me a hug. That was that. He didn’t say much but his actions meant the world to me. He was giving me his blessing for whatever next and in those moments I knew he trusted me. I had no idea what impact this would have on my career, I was terrified and yet I was utterly relieved. I knew I would never have to sit another Chemistry exam in my life and the thought of that shifted and lifted my very being.My strongest sense was that I needed to travel, move away from Ireland and learn on the road. Yet I had no money. So a few days after signing out of UCD, in possibly the most embarrassing career move of my life, I took a job in McDonalds. The shame radar escalated. I mopped floors. I cleaned toilets. I flipped disgusting fish cakes. I burned myself on greasy oil. I was told I did not hustle enough. I was told I need to up-sell. I hated it, I hated it so much I would cry every day, but I was determined to get out of there quickly. Three months later I had enough money to buy myself a plane ticket. I had organised a volunteer role in Tonga, South Pacific, and so, at 17, my parents, in yet another act of selfless devotion, brought me to the airport and with tears in their eyes waved me off to literally the other side of the world. The older I get the more I realise what a remarkable gesture of trust (again) it was on their part- entrusting me to the world, and to myself.Tonga was a revelation to me. Here I found myself in the middle of the Pacific- literally and metaphorically. I spent nine months in Tonga and three in Western Samoa (which is a whole other series of blog posts), and while there a world of possibility awakened in me; indeed the world awoke in me. I became more interested in education, learning and international issues. I realised that lack of resources does not equate to lack of imagination, and that sometimes the best innovations happens on the edges, on the margins. Travel, I have found, enriches as it shakes. In the challenges I was tested and invited to see more of myself. My so called failure had indeed been a doorway. I realised that had I remained in UCD I would have been utterly crushed. I got out just in time, thanks to the love and support of my parents, and to some toilet cleaning. So when I returned to Ireland I was ready to re-enter university with a deeper sense of my interests and of my callings. I entered Queen’s University in Belfast and after three years there got a scholarship to Oxford University, staying as far away from Chemistry and Physics as I could.Walking through UCD yesterday I was reminded of that 17 year old- full of shame, full of fear, but knowing she needed to step off track. In doing so, the world had revealed itself, and by entering into the world I entered into myself. That failure was a gift. As I walked passed the admission building, a tear swelled in my eyes, remembering my late father’s words, ‘All will be OK. You’ll figure it out’. He was right- all is OK, and while in many ways I am still figuring it out, I have learned to trust that the failures are just learning in deep disguise. My only wish is that my Dad was around so I could thank him, for walking me to that door, and unbeknownst to me at the time, opening a much deeper, richer one for me. It is a door that keeps on opening, one failure at a time.

The Curious Incident of the 'Almost' Dog and the Stranger.

 There are moments in life which stop you in your tracks. This was one of them.A couple of weeks ago I was driving to Wexford with Finn (my housemate’s dog, or as above). The car was my housemates too.I had decided to buy my own dog. For weeks and weeks I had been looking online for little doggies, searching for the one. And then, there on the website was this little face, all too cute, looking back at me. This was to be the one. She happened to live in Wexford.When I got to Enniscorthy, I called the owner and was on my way.  I was excited, a little nervous, thinking about how my life was about to change with my own dog. It is a big commitment and one I don't take lightly. However, life was about to change in another direction, with a bit of drama in the mix too.About five minutes from the owner’s house the car engine literally blew. There was steam and ruckus and more steam. Thankfully no flames, but I was clearly not going anywhere. It was getting late and would soon be dark. What on earth was I to do? Little Finn’s big eyes were staring back at me.‘I’m no mechanic’, he said, ‘but an avid enthusiast- can I take a look?’ I turned around to see that a stranger had pulled over to help. The news was not good. He suspected the head gasket had blown, and that indeed I wouldn’t be going anyway. But then he looked at me and with the kindest of gestures said, ‘You can trust me. I am not in a hurry. I will not leave you stranded here on the side of the road. We will get this sorted and you will be safe’.In those moments you have got to trust.Within minutes he had figured out a solution- calling friends, arranging support, arranging to borrow a trailer, offering to tow the car, offering a space to leave the car while we arranged to get it back to Dublin.Meanwhile I had also phoned my housemate, who was trying also to find a local mechanic to help- she did, and before I knew it that mechanic had arrived, the car was towed to Enniscorthy, the other man was on his way too, and I was dropped to the train station with little Finn.All this kindness, all the generosity and all this support.On the train I texted the first man to thank him. He had given me his number in case anything else happened and I needed help. His reply, ‘It was my pleasure, I wish more people would do the same so it wouldn’t seem like it was such a gesture’.That first man’s name is Gareth and he happens to run a restaurant in Gorey called The Pig’s Tail. If his food is anything as generous as his kindness or impeccable as his manners, it will be spectacular.As for the dog? Well it turns out I am still looking for the one. I’m going to wait a little while though, as if ever there was a sign to pause, this was one. In the meantime Finn is in her element, lapping up all the love and plotting how she can put a spell on the next engine too!  One thing is for sure however, we are both ever grateful for the kindness of strangers and the momentum of trust.  

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And a little reminder...

Living Seasonally starts tomorrow, Wednesday 4th Nov. More details including registration info is over here… I’ll leave registration open until Thursday. Hope you will consider joining. Clare xx

On the Tale of Marrakech.

 

Ah, the delights. It had been on my wish list for a very long time. The thoughts of wandering a warren of red hued streets, of exploring a rich craft and design culture, of hearing the call to prayer and the guttural sounds of Arabic through the soundscape. Then there were thoughts of tagines, and rosewater, and Riads, and succulents, and even a nervous curiosity about what going to a local hammam would actually entail. I had wanted to go with my camera, knowing we would get lost only to find our way again. It all happened, on a whirlwind visit, which turned out to be just a taster. Now I want to return, for the place has so much intrigue and hospitality. Plus I have never felt cleaner in my life after a lovely (and brave) woman scrubbed layers off me. Marrakech, you delight with your charms and your ancient, beautiful, crazy and chaotic ways....

I travelled there with my housemate, Eavan, who not only has an amazing flair for design and an appreciation of elegance, also took on the mighty task of chief navigator and map reader. For those who have been, you will understand when I say that getting lost is an inevitability. But that is the fun of it. We walked over 30km one day, circling and spiraling through a maze of souks (markets), dodging the traffic and navigating the haggling hoards. Our haggle skills got honed too, as we tuned into the psychology of it, and the game of it too. Our adventures through the markets were intercepted with the occasional sweet mint tea or a delicious juice to give some pause. The light did the rest.

In the evening, our Riad (courtyard home) was a genuine oasis and simply to ponder its proportions and elegant design was a treat. That we got to stay there, even more so.

We packed so much in I felt I had been away for much longer than 3 nights, and the whole experience was like inspiration fuel- stepping into another culture to learn, see, experience and soak in the magic and beauty of this world we live in. Thank you Eavan. Thank you hosts. Thank you Marrakech. We will be back, and hopefully soon....