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Letters to Biddy

~ a weekly reflection as a letter to Biddy Early, 19th Century Irish healer from Ennis, County Clare

Letters to Biddy

Monthly Archives: December 2014

Bye, bye Biddy

27 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by Moira Were AM in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

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2015, Biddy Early, Ennis, farewell, Jane O'Brien, Juana Ines de la Cruz, Owen and Moley, Parting Glass, Western Ireland

Dear Biddy,

It is time to say farewell.  Thank you for being a travelling companion in 2014. This is my last letter to you.

When I review my letters I notice themes of life and death, love, light and darkness and an elemental thread of the UniVerse holding the words together. Thank you for your inspiration and challenges, sending me into the wilds and keeping the faith with my pilgrimage in everyday life.

I now shake the dust from my Irish shoes and greet another woman from the past. I think you both could trade stories of wrestling ideas with the powerful in your worlds. You both could join in a jig or a reel to have your feet tapping and heels clicking in time and tune.

Before I go I ask for your blessing:

Biddy Wise Woman of Clare

Set me on my way with a final swig from the blue bottle

Dispensing a blessing for this pilgrim

IJuana am writing my weekly letter in 2015 to Mexican woman Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz. I am looking forward to getting to know her and sharing some of my story with her, just as I have with you.

I remember Biddy, when I first met you in Ennis introduced by the redheaded Jane O’Brien and then went on my own journey of discovery to learn more about you.

A reference from Yeats about you that was included in my first letter to you and he pondered: Is Eden out of time and out of space? The celestial questions of time and space are forever unfolding to be asked; and part of the reason I write, is to see where answers might be knitted together from random thoughts, scraps of conversations and inspiration from being in relationship through these letters with one like you.

It is time now Biddy to sing the Parting Glass to you, knowing we will meet again on the road somewhere.  I sing with those lads from Limmerick, Owen and Moley, the brothers Ó Súilleabháin, who I was delighted to be in such good company, on a tour of Western Ireland in 2013 and where my spirit continues to be nourished. These letters have kept a thread of my time in Ireland woven into my week for the past year and now I rise and raise my glass “goodnight and joy be to you all.”

Bye, bye Biddy thank you, Moira

 

Readers please note to continue to follow in 2015 click here

 

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What if

20 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by Moira Were AM in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

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Biddy Early, call to prayer, chocolate, domestic violence, illridewithyou, Newtown, Sydney

Dear Biddy,

Sometimes my imagination gets carried away with me, and I wonder what kind of alternative futures there might be. I wonder about the power of nonviolence and I long for times when we all live in safe places. Where children can go to school and not be murdered just for being there to learn, where women can ride safely on public transport and not be spat at by bigots, where the marital bed is a place for making love, not a place of violence, where getting up and going to work means you will earn enough to feed your family and put a roof over your head, where the wealthy countries (like mine) generously share with those in poverty (Australia cut its foreign aid budget to the lowest ever in our history this week.)

It has been one of those weeks on our planet where despair is legitimatised and sadness is the default emotion. What else is possible?

The simplicity of #illridewithyou has been a balm to soothe the hatred of racists … creativity breaks through once again to raise us to our better selves. I started to imagine what other ways the Sydney siege could have ended and certainly more carnage would have been possible, but what else might have happened?

Once upon a time there was a chocolate shop. Every day people came from all over the Big City to visit, buy a coffee, a hot chocolate or a snack to sneak under their desk. One day a madman came into the shop and forced some of the people to hold up a black flag with some words written in Arabic to the window. Passers by recognised the words as a call to prayer and stopped and knelt  on the ground and prayed. Soon they were joined by hundreds of others, including people who couldn’t read the words but knew what they meant. Word spread on social media and people came from everywhere, in front of chocolate shops in cities all over the world people gathered, knelt and prayed. The madman in the shop, seeing everyone was speechless, dropped his gun to the floor and fell to his knees in prayer. Three police officers walked in, picked up the gun and walked out with the madman held between them. All over the world a single prayer of gratitude floated to heaven. 

The madman went to hospital, the hostages went home to loved ones, the police went back to work, chocolate shops became sanctuaries of peace throughout the world and people stopped being afraid of Arabic words calling people to prayer.

In another scenario, the madman was not out on bail, he was in a forensic hospital getting treatment for his illness and never went to the chocolate shop in the first place; his wife was still alive and his children weren’t living in grief from their mother being murdered and their father being infamous.

And in another scenario domestic violence was understood as terrorism at home and everyday neighbours rallied to the cries of women and children.

There are so many different ways stories can unfold … in your imagination. In reality, it is the inspired action, the response to the call that keeps us in the dance. And I’ll take “illridewithyou” any day over madness and fear.

Newtown

Newtown

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Tall Tales

13 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by Moira Were AM in Uncategorized

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Biddy Early, court, Love Makes a Way, Malcolm Fraser, refugees, Salvation Army, UN Convention

Dear Biddy,

The Celts are great story-tellers of tall tales and true. Last night I was once again in the audience of an Eric Bogle concert when he warmly told us all that there is a difference between lies and what we call bullshit. The real difference I think is around the person who can detect if what is being told is bullshit or not. Having a reliable and functioning bullshit detector is considered a discernment quality of high value. I have always thought Aussies were pretty well endowed with this talent.

Bullshiters at their worst, are sociopaths or even psychopaths, tirelessly misrepresenting the truth and the larrikinism that might have been the genesis of a falsehood camouflages more sinister overtones. What started in fancy can take a life of its own. In my county a relentless myth that asylum seekers were illegal and thinly veiled potential terrorists, has now been able to be accepted as a truth leading to changing the law! I was speechless this week when our Parliament passed a Bill essentially removing my country from fulfilling its obligations under the UN Convention on Refugees (a convention Australia once upon a time helped write). What have we become as a nation – have we lost our collective bullshit detector?

During this season my mind always turns to those fleeing their homes from tyranny or violence, my favourite first family having made the trek around 2,000 years ago to avoid their first born being murdered. Fellow followers of this tradition spent some time this week in the offices of members of parliament ministers of religion meeting ministers of government – one quietly sitting in silence and prayer and the other calling the police for trespassing. The story continues as real today as ever – children being carried away by their families seeking safe haven, but instead of finding refuge being turned away and labelled illegal.   A former Prime Minister, Hon Malcolm Fraser did not mince his words:

The minister’s powers are outside the “rule of law”, they are beyond appeal.  He has the powers of a tyrant.  We should not pretend that this is just a minor change.  It presents a destruction of democratic process.

My favourite response from the week of action was a Salvation Army band playing Christmas Carols out the front of the Geelong court as their minister appeared before the magistrate. It seemed to be complete the response and action.

Just love that a Salvo band was at the Geelong courts for @lovemakesaway #refugees #asylumseekers No convictions pic.twitter.com/ztEFfxwQWr

— Moira Deslandes (@MoiraDes) December 11, 2014

 

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Lies, Denial, Truth

06 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by Moira Were AM in Uncategorized

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Biddy Early, David Whyte, denial, empathy, lies, Truth

Dear Biddy,

Is the space between a truth and a lie shrinking? I am wondering if you had an antidote for that in your herb garden?

The place denial plays in helping the lie become a truth maybe revealed in the words of David Whyte:

Denial is a beautiful transitional state every human being inhabits before they are emancipated into the next larger context and orphaned, often against their will, from an old and very familiar home.

©2014 David Whyte
from ‘DENIAL’ From CONSOLATIONS: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words.

This week I am praying some of lies I’ve heard might get infected with denial so to fully enable the path of truth to find a way home.

There is the lie that Australians don’t care about refugees – yet most of my friends seem to – all the while the majority of members in our Parliament voted to remove my country from the Convention we helped author a few generations ago. Surely we are better than this?

There are the lies in communities and families like the one a violent man pickled by alcohol was a happy person spreading conviviality through his larrikin ways to all he met. Surely the scars, the bruises (faded and still raw), the debts, the children and the parent’s heartaches have their own truth?

Fear of change masquerading as bravado and stubbornness is another kind of lie. This kind of lie is where fear builds up and brings a paralysis to truth – so only the lie moves around slipping and sliding unable to wrestled to the ground.

Finding out the truth is hard and not where we want to be, making a labyrinth of lies will lead us back to our centre, and in that space, denial might come to lead us out into truth.

If denial creeps in, truth maybe able to find a way out of the crucible holding the lie. What is that crucible made of? Fear? Pain? Anxiety? Empathy is the elixir to find our way from lies to truth and an empathic ear to denial might just release the pressure point of the fear or pain or anxiety.

My country, Biddy, and me too, need a dose of empathy to get us through the lies, to open the potential for denial and then midwife us into truth.

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  • Bye, bye Biddy
  • What if
  • Tall Tales
  • Lies, Denial, Truth
  • Bystander in the Herd

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Dancing with Speeche… on Kintsukuroi
Made by Disappointme… on Kintsukuroi
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Dancing with Speeche… on Kintsukuroi
Made by Disappointme… on Kintsukuroi
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