Gemini New Moon, June 15 - The Things That Remain
In the days leading up to the Gemini New Moon, I found myself paying attention to small things.
Not because they were important in any obvious sense. Quite the opposite.
A song. Specifically Bernard Butler's new song The Irish Goodbye, performed live on RTE Arena for RTE (Ireland's public broadcaster) 100th anniversary from the Irish Embassy in London.
It's an extraordinary song. It didn't take me long to isolate the guitar part and make a dodgy tab, so that I could play it on the guitar. The lyrics are very good too. *
On the same RTE Arena programme, Irish poet Ian Duhig read Na Spailpíní Fánacha (The Wandering Spailpín, depending on the English translation).
Funny thing? Fada, the name of the Irish Gaelic accentuation mark, means fairy in Portuguese. But there's no fairy in Spailpíní Fánacha. Only hardship.
A pigeon's nest. The pomba that has been nesting in the corner of the back veranda hasn't been seen since Thursday, June 11. The two eggs are still in the nest.
A conversation with the park's female guard about swimming in the cold waters of the Atlantic.
Looking for a simple ice cream and finding it in the wee hours of a hot night at a small supermarket run by a man from another part of the world. A conversation ensued. He spoke about his wife, who had moved here with him, and their hope of bringing their three-year-old son over next year.
The same hot night in the wee hours led to a swing on a children's swing, and a trip down the slide.
Sentimento Monocromático (Monochromatic Feeling) by Gustavo Sanches de Castro, an exhibition I liked enough to photograph.
Every day, countless things pass through my life, through our lives. News stories. Opinions. Predictions. Arguments. Advice. Most quickly vanishing.
Some things stay with us because we continue to notice them.
The Gemini New Moon is often associated with information, communication, and new ideas. There is some truth in that. Yet I wonder whether its deeper invitation is not to gather more information, but to notice what has quietly stayed with us.
What remains after the noise has moved on? The answer will be different for each of us.
For me: the park, a song, the Atlantic, a poem, the guitar, an artwork, the trees, the stars, and the planets.
* The lyrics of The Irish Goodbye as best as I could pick them out from the RTE Arena 100 broadcast
I could be the greatest
But you made me side while
I watched two foxes leave and die
I took a hit
I made no excuses
It's how the Irish say goodbye
There was a call tonight, I drank to tender mercies, ohhh
I took a pledge, now I'm thirsty
I think I saw the Angel of the North
Shooting angels, that's what's hard
Ah, I'm not immune, not suffering anything
But you, you, you took a hit
For you and me, I drew two circles
It's the only thing we deserve
Here comes your Irish goodbye
Ohhhh
You, you took a hit, there ain't no violence for London
And the only thing I regret
Are those boulevards of fame (of fate?)
I hang my head, I carry the shame away
I rode wild horses, this is your Irish goodbye
(lyrics by Bernard Butler)
[artwork: Gustavo Sanches de Castro - Folhas soltas de um diário (Loose pages from a diary) photo © Raquel Pinheiro]
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