Archive for the ‘miracle box’ Category
Drawn Together
“Maroon marker finds little maroon marker lid” Marianne Slevin 2010
It is funny the things one notices when tidying up the house. Something that I notice quite often is that similar things seem to be draw together. Just after I started writing this a recovery man came to fix or tow away our car, our car is a Lada Niva from Russia, the man is from Moscow and owns lots of Lada Nivas! He even offered to buy it he loves Ladas! I am intrigued by these more obvious snippets of organisation that are happening secretly around us all the time. It is quite entertaining the way the universe works sometimes. Maroon marker finds little maroon marker lid.
A while ago, I noticed some delicate art that had been given to me by a friend, assembled itself onto of the envelope addressed to the same friend. How did it end up there. I would like to have filmed all of the staged and what happened on its journey to get there. Why does to same not apply to sock, I ask myself?! Does the universe have a slightly wicked sense of humor?!
Coincidences on the Camino de Santiago
Baby buggy down the glen by the Falls Hotel Ennistymon
Yesterday while putting a rather sturdy three wheeled baby buggy in the boot of our 4×4 Lada Niva, I realised that I had bought the same buggy in Santiago two years before our son was to be born in that city. The reason I bought the buggy was because I had just fallen in love with James Slevin, who was pushing all of his supplies rather then carrying them on his back like the pilgrims, he was a long distance walker and I was determined to walk every step of the way beside, behind and in-front of him, it is not always practical to walk hand in hand wile pushing buggies, apart from the sweaty hand thing many of the places we went were tiny paths through woods and up mountains! Was me buying a baby buggy with a man I had only days before met and promptly fallen in love with, in this spiritual city such a strong yet unconscious affirmation that it would draw us back there two years later to give birth to our son?
Yesterday I got a little feel of that again as I pushed our Daughter and Son down the glen by the Falls Hotel in Ennistymon, it is a lovely walk, just a pity it is so short! At the moment James is planning a walk and is very sad to see that nearly all marked walks in Ireland are mainly on the road. If anybody knows of any walks not on roads in Ireland can you please let us know. There are a few lovely Green roads but they are not long enough to get off the gray roads for enough time to feel truly in nature.
Having Babies on the Camino de Santiago
For a while the Camino was our life really, we even had our two babies on it! Our daughter is a Navarica (born in Navarra). We were on one of our many perfect land or house hunts by car. We were living in Finisterre, which really did feel like the end of the earth! We had just danced on O Cebreiro,( a well know climb into Galicia to any pilgrim) for the Summer Solstice then headed for the Pyrenees. As the needle sank lower into the red on the fuel gauge we pulled into the last filling station on the mountain road, the master of the pumps said the final word ‘cerado’ ! We decided to camp in the mountains near Roncesvalles instead of going all the way to St. Jean Pied du Port to start our camino from there.
James was putting up the tent while I made some smoked salmon pasta, just a couple of feet from where the pilgrims walk. Our puppy ‘Fudge’ was nervous of a large dog that came to have a look at what was going on! While in the camping cooking position I suddenly felt that things were a little different to normal, I was either loosing control or I was soon going to have a baby! We embraced and James opened me a can of non alcoholic beer for the car journey, kind of like a pub crawl without the pubs or the alcohol! It was late it was dark we were really unsure of where we were going to end up ! I sat forward, willing the car on almost pushing it! Freewheeling down the mountains we laughed and felt unnaturally calm! We passed a closed Ambulance depot, memorising emergency numbers for the 50km journey. People at last ! We pulled over and asked where the nearest petrol station was, vaguely understanding, more memorising needed! We went over the flyover and into a check point! Broken waters in broken Spanish got the message across, and as soon as the car rolled to a stop by the pump, we had an escort of the Gardia Civil.
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