The world’s gone mad
by Daria Blackwell
We fight a daily battle against prejudice
With wars on many fronts taking lives
That might have been the ones to solve
The other problems we are facing.
Like climate weirdness, fire and flood,
And food insecurity for all those masses.
Humanity has reached its life expectancy
And we will soon outlive our resources.
I wonder if God foresaw this issue.
I wonder if it matters that the world’s gone mad?
The River
We can't blame the river for flowing
We can't hate the wild wind blowing
We can't stop time from advancing
And we can't prevent what's coming.
The end.
Spirit in the sky
by Norman Greenbaum
Here Beside Me
by the Henry Girls
with Inishowen Gospel Choir
On Turning 69
By Daria Blackwell
29 June 2023
Today is my day to reflect on the number
That, in my youth, induced smirks and blushes
But in my new age means something
Altogether different, finite and surreal.
I never thought I’d live this long –
Flower children of the ‘70s never did.
But as I sit here on top of my world,
I can see beyond the hills in both directions
And beyond the sea to my humble beginning.
I look up and view the future in the clouds
And look down to see the imprint of this day.
What have I accomplished, where have I been?
Who have I touched, what have I learned?
Does it matter in the end to amass achievements?
Material things: a house, a boat, a life well-lived?
Do adventures matter, should I pursue more?
Is there still more to learn from that yet to come?
Questions I’d have thought would’ve been answered by now.
But no, I find only more questions about questions,
Until I can rest and collect my thoughts in patterns.
This satisfies my soul and sets my mind finally to rest.
 |
| My last day as OCC Vice Commodore, receiving the OCC Award |
It's interesting that I haven't written anything in 2023 yet and it is already 3 May. I haven't been writing much. I have been gardening quite a bit lately, and working with the Ukrainian community.
What I have been doing mostly is figuring out how I can rid myself of all these responsibilities I have taken on. I started with the Ocean Cruising Club Vice Commodore's spot, which I gave up at the AGM in Poole UK last month. I had reached a point where I had little interest (much like happened with HBA), after having done a lot during the pandemic years. For which I was honoured with the OCC Award (much like the STAR award with HBA). I seem to be following a pattern.
I wonder what interest the next decade will bring? I'm betting on viticulture and winemaking.
We have finally reached close to the end of cleaning out Ross House, for which I am grateful as that took a lot of time and effort. Every Monday for almost a year, Kirsten and I have been clearing out 170 years of family stuff, room by room. The piles -- goes with house, one of us keeps, goes to charity, goes to the dump. We've taken truckloads to charity and more truckloads to the dump. We've also distributed some stuff among our homes, which are now brimming with stuff in turn. But as probate is not yet concluded, we cannot move on. It's very frustrating that it's all dragging.
Chris and Marika and Aileen and Sheila were here briefly to finalise some things. It was good seeing them and getting to know their partners. Everyone is getting up there in age.
I now have to figure out how to get my introvert life back from the Ukrainians. I have helped several families all of whom want to thank me profusely. I took on the more difficult cases because I could help with language and maneuvering through the systems. But now, its time to move on and they do not understand.
I seem to be getting more introverted as I get older, perhaps because there's little I need to achieve at this point. I am comfortable in my own skin, I do not need conversation, I am happy with my life. What more is there? More wisdom? More awards? No, time to go spend some money while I still can. At least then, I will learn finally, if money can buy happiness. Until now, I haven't allowed that to happen.
I came out of the funk just at the end of November. Was there a trigger? Not that I know of. But I do recognise that it was a form of depression. Anyway, I pulled myself together to teach Ukrainian classes on Tuesdays in Newport and Thursdays in Westport. I do the laundry on Mondays in between clearing out the stuff at Ross House with Kirstin, do the food shopping on Wednesdays, and take Fridays off.
I must say, my Ukrainian has improved in these past few months to point of fluency again. It helps as I am teaching real beginners. My students in Westport are making progress. They are at least trying to speak. When I started, a few refused to say anything. But with a little cajoling, they have started being brave. That's my class above. We had a lesson about Christmas in Ireland at the last session. They couldn't believe that the Irish don't celebrate Christmas Eve. They gave me a lovely Christmas present and wrote a poem - in English. They made me cry!
My class in Newport is fluid with new arrivals weekly. I am now helping a family who have a young son with cerebral palsy. I also placed a family of seven in a beautiful home in Fahy in the middle of nowhere. But they bought a car and are very self-sufficient. I've been sharing insights with the volunteers instructors in Newport, which is helping them. Things like dogs don't say bow-wow in Ukrainian so one of the lessons they had in mind wouldn't work. Also, Ukrainian traditions like St Nicholas brings gifts on the 19th of November, so the principal in Newport gave all the Ukrainian kids little gifts for St Nick's.
We had our first dinner party, aside from having had family over (Chris, Marika, Aileen and Sheila) when they were here in November. We served lamb from Inishdaff on both occasions. It was actually great fun entertaining again. Clearly, I am feeling better.
The week before Christmas, I got what I thought was a common cold, but it turned out to be a bit more. I tested negative for Covid but the symptoms indicated RSV (respiratory syncytial virus). Runny nose, low-grade fever, sneezing, wheezing and croupy cough. It's been going around. Everyone in our neighbourhood has had it. So for Christmas, I gave it to Alex. Happy Christmas, honey! We didn't do Christmas eve as we were both too miserable. But I was able to marinate the beets for Uki Christmas and managed to make chocolate chip cookies. And I recovered enough to make the Christmas dinner, with turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce and carrots. Ho ho ho!
For Stephen's Day, we hung around and then had a lobster dinner -- one of Alex's Clew Bay lobsters frozen this summer. Yum. And I baked a plyatsok, so it felt a bit festive.
It's been raining on and off so it is not tempting to be outside. At least it's a bit warmer than it was a couple of weeks ago when we suffered an arctic blast. I am ready for 2023, as 2022 was rather a bust.
by Daria Blackwell
I feel the knots in my core.
Twisting. Erupting. Gnawing.
My head throbs and my eyes bulge,
I am like a wild animal caught in a trap.
I hate being here. I want to run and hide.
I want the peace and solace of home.
I can’t deal with people all the time.
I must be on my own to recharge
And that can’t be just on a different boat.
Or on another note in time.
It has to be out of sight to be out of mind.
Being trapped causes my mind to spiral
Deep into abysses I can usually avoid.
I want to shed all responsibility and flee.
But I am enveloped by a sea of lost tranquility.
I want to cry. I want to slip overboard.
I want to cut the lines loose and drift out to sea.
Where if the sinking feeling is real,
I won’t have to deal with it anymore.
Written aboard Aleria on June 28, 2022, a day before my 68th birthday.
