Winter Chill

The silence is threatening,
Evoking the hollow menace of the Bates Motel....
I watch snow falling, incessant,
Splattering over starving chickadees
Fruitlessly rooting in the disrepair of my back yard.

The facade of Christmas intrudes,
Far too much jolly holiday
Looking like a cheap whorehouse in my Mormon neighbor's yard.

I feel vulnerable.
I used to love winter,
Night, chill, solitude....

Now resentments choke my laughter,
The body that no longer stays warm,
The voice whose high notes quaver and whose breath gives out.

The zombie of my youth staggers aimlessly down ice-covered sidewalks,
Where tinsel and flickering lights sabotage my resistance....

And after the holly-daze,
When the world descends again into the pit of icebound silence,
When the chaos subsides and once again there is
Silent snow, secret snow…

When once again I am alone in the chill, the darkness,
With no voices slithering by on the bitter wind,

Then what?

I will not be frightened of winter.
I will not fear the changes brought by age.
I will not be too tired to decorate.
I will not be Scrooge.

I am old, yes.
But I still gain joy in silence, darkness, solitude.
There are still thoughts in my head, words in my mouth.

Silent, private, hoarded up like the nuts under the stump
Waiting under the snow for the journey to resume.

I find solace in the silence, dreams within the darkness, warmth within the chill.
I remember my oft-chanted paean on "darkness, distance, silence"
And realize that the full measure of each
May only be measured against the yearly death of light and proximity and cacophony.

Winter fills me.
Winter rests me.
Winter refreshes and sustains me.

I suppose it is my Season, after all.


© Aisling the Bard
Winter 2008-2009

Looking At A Musical Ancestor Of Truth....

Watching some movies with Brie on the Turner Classic Movie channel, and saw The Singing Nun, with Debbie Reynolds. It did make me think fondly of my own memories of that movie, and of Soeur Sourire, "The Smiling Sister", and of what listening to her music when I was in high school did for my own music, poetry and sense of self. I can still sing all those songs, and I still have the 33 1/3 vinyl of her one recording. And I still love and remember that heart-lifting feeling of just seeing someone bursting out into song because they are just so happy with life, and with god. And her later life brings her even closer to my own soul, as she left the convent, mostly because she was sure the Catholic Church had it wrong about birth control (she even wrote a song in praise of the pill), and also because she was coming out to herself, and finally gifted herself with a lover and soulmate, Anna Pecher, in 1975. And both of them, faced by increasing financial and health problems, lay down together and died of their own free will in 1985. So hail to Soeur Sourire, today's ancestor of the heart! I admire your talent, courage and dignity. Sleep in peace. And no, I don't believe in a god who would condemn you to hell for deciding to end your own life with your beloved. Somewhere, the two of you are together, singing.

Soeur Sourire
DOMINIQUE
Paroles et musique: Soeur Sourire, 1959


Dominique, nique, nique
S'en allait tout simplement,
Routier, pauvre et chantant
En tous chemins, en tous lieux,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu

A l'époque où Jean Sans Terre,
D'Angleterre était le roi
Dominique notre père,
Combattit les albigeois.

Dominique, nique, nique
S'en allait tout simplement,
Routier, pauvre et chantant
En tous chemins, en tous lieux,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu

Certains jours un hérétique,
Par des ronces le conduit
Mais notre Père Dominique,
Par sa joie le convertit

Dominique, nique, nique
S'en allait tout simplement,
Routier, pauvre et chantant
En tous chemins, en tous lieux,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu

Ni chameau, ni diligence,
Il parcourt l'Europe à pied
Scandinavie ou Provence,
Dans la sainte pauvreté

Dominique, nique, nique
S'en allait tout simplement,
Routier, pauvre et chantant
En tous chemins, en tous lieux,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu

Enflamma de toute école
Filles et garçons pleins d'ardeur
Et pour semer la parole,
Inventa les Frères-Prêcheurs

Dominique, nique, nique
S'en allait tout simplement,
Routier, pauvre et chantant
En tous chemins, en tous lieux,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu

Chez Dominique et ses frères,
Le pain s'en vint à manquer
Et deux anges se présentèrent,
Portant de grands pains dorés

Dominique, nique, nique
S'en allait tout simplement,
Routier, pauvre et chantant
En tous chemins, en tous lieux,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu

Dominique vit en rêve,
Les prêcheurs du monde entier
Sous le manteau de la Vierge,
En grand nombre rassemblés.

Dominique, nique, nique
S'en allait tout simplement,
Routier, pauvre et chantant
En tous chemins, en tous lieux,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu

Dominique, mon bon Père,
Garde-nous simples et gais
Pour annoncer à nos frères,
La vie et la vérité.

Dominique, nique, nique
S'en allait tout simplement,
Routier, pauvre et chantant
En tous chemins, en tous lieux,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu

Counting Down The Ancestors ~ 10/10 to 10/18

(From my LiveJournal)

Today's Living Ancestor....

• Oct. 10th, 2008 at 11:00 PM

Went to Ellie's fourth birthday party tonight, at Emeliee's house. And I can't think of a better ancestor to honor today than my wonderful mom, Mary Duffy...Sitting in my daughter's livingroom and seeing all my daughters and all their kids and knowing this little lady was the reason we all happened...It doesn't get any better than this. I hope we have her around for a long long long time...
Here is beautiful mom. Ninety next year...this photo was taken last year....WOW....

• Location:Mah Chayuh
• Mood: grateful
• Music:Mana Mana

An Ancestor For Today....

• Oct. 11th, 2008 at 10:34 PM

A teacher this time....one I will never forget. She was Soeur Marie Patrice, a Holy Cross Sister who taught me French at St. Mary of the Wasatch when I was in high school. She was a native Parisienne, and she was a tiny little woman with a huge heart who never spoke a cross word to anyone and always maintained perfect order in all her classes because she had the ability of seemingly effortless engagement of her students. My mother and I referred to her as "Ma Belle Chat" in a loving manner, because she had that feline self-possession that is so exquisitely elegant to watch. I was washing dishes by hand today, and I always sing at the top of my lungs when I am doing that, and since several French tunes came across my radar (Aupres de ma blonde, Dites-moi, La Marseillaise) and she did, too. Bon voyage, ma belle chat! Wherever you are, may your road be smooth....

• Location:In front of the tv
• Mood: recumbent
• Music:aupres de ma blonde

Ancestral Anomalies....

• Oct. 12th, 2008 at 8:25 AM

So, you have to take the whatever with the whatever, doncha? So today, we have a rather odd choice of ancestor...someone I am quite certain isn't related to me in any way whatsoever, except for a name. Today I am thinking about my Uncle Charles Duffy...ok. Yes, he's related to me. And he was someone I never got to know, strictly by circumstance, since he and his family lived in Saranac Lake NY and we only saw them on summer vacation, until we moved to Utah when I was nine, and then we never saw them again that I remember. So...why am I disclaiming a relationship with the brother of my father, since indubitably we were related? Well...I can't get inside his head. He shot himself, leaving a wife and four children, for no discernable reason that anyone could ever figure out. Of course, no suicide is really comprehensible to anyone left behind. And I have certainly felt bad enough over the years about a lot of other things about which I could do nothing. But I really don't understand what happened to Uncle Charlie, or how it affects me now. I know somehow it does. So I am going to give him my thoughts today and try to figure it out. For all he was, and for all he makes the family remember, we are grateful.

• Location:just waking up
• Mood:puzzled
• Music:Morning Mood from Peer Gynt

Today's Ancestor Is....

• Oct. 13th, 2008 at 6:42 PM

Walter Duffy, my father's first cousin, who goes in the family by the name of Bud. As far as I know he is still alive, and he is writing and researching more genealogy than a person can possibly absorb in even a few sittings. It is, apparently, his obsession. And I am grateful for it. He has collated so much family information and lore that has become the basis of my own research...Just to say "thank you" to Bud, my great-uncle, in both senses of the word....

• Location:In the Cave
• Mood: thoughtful
• Music: Harrigan, That's Me!

A Cultural Ancestor....

• Oct. 14th, 2008 at 11:25 PM

JRR Tolkien, whose amazing world-building has inspired three generations of marvelous fantasy writers, linguists, and creators of art and music. I can't begin to explain the amazing influence this man has had on my own worldview, so suffice it to say I would be far narrower and less happy a person had I not encountered his wonderful writing and fallen under his arcane spell....John Ronald Ruel Tolkien....Mae govannen!! Elen sila lumenn omentilmo!!!

• Location:Awake, Unfortunately
• Mood:reflective
• Music:The Road Goes Ever On And On

And Today's Ancestor Is...

• Oct. 15th, 2008 at 10:54 PM

...Patrick Ball, another Celtic Harper who also happens to be a personal friend...Yes, he's been to my house. And he brought his harp, and he played for us, something he was just then working on...One of the most influential players of the "folk harp", the one who pioneered the break from pedal harp technique and fingering, who made Irish harp music accessible to people who had never heard a harp, one who brought back the role of the Celtic storyteller to modern times. Every time I play my harp, I think of him. Thank you, Patrick.

• Location:Mah Chayuh
• Mood:reflective
• Music:Patrick Ball's rendition of "Castle Kelly"

And Yet Another Ancestor of Culture...

• Oct. 16th, 2008 at 11:45 PM

Amazing Dorothy Parker, inspiration of an entire generation of outspoken women, whose wit and ability for repartee is practically unmatched in modern history...I was reminded of her by brigidsblest , who put several of my favorite quotes on her blog today. But it wasn't just her wit I admire...it's her life. She was a rogue in an era of non-conformity, and her founding of the Algonquin Round Table brought together such literary figures as Robert Benchley, Robert E. Sherwood, James Thurber, George S. Kaufman, Edna Ferber, Franklin P. Adams, and many others.

Regina Barreca wrote, in the introduction to Parker's Collected Stories, that "Parker's wit caricatures the self-deluded, the powerful, the autocratic, the vain, the sill, and the self important; it does not rely on men and small formulas, and it never ridicules the marginalized, the sideline or the outcast. When Parker goes for the jugular, its usually a vein with blueblood in it."

According to Barreca, many of the critics of her time painted her as having "sold out" and "wasted herself by writing about narrow topics." Nevertheless, her works paved the way for other realist writings by intellectuals, and other writers, which transformed American thought. As a woman before her time, she represented with her witty and satirical writings a select few women who became independently successful. This was a difficult accomplishment during this period that was moving away from Victorian ideals--a time when women were just beginning to see that women can have their individual identities separate from their male counterparts.

Throughout literary history, many people have written works which have added to the tradition of the American Jeremiad. Much of Dorothy Parker’s literature is a good example of the American Jeremiad which has revolutionized American culture and beliefs. Her work has had a tremendous influence on women’s history. There have been continuing arguments over our nation’s founding principles: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Parker’s ideas brought to life a profoundly realistic depiction of the rampant sexism and inconsistencies between those principles and the various social classes, races, and sexes in the life of America in the 1920s. She stated, referring to the renegades of the 1920s,

They come clean with the news that war is a horrible thing, that injustice still exists in many parts of the globe even to this day, that the very rich are apt to sit appreciably prettier than the very poor. Even the tenderer matters are not smeared over with romance for them. They have taken a calm look at this marriage thing and they are there to report that it is not always a life long trip to Niagara Falls. You will be barely able to stagger when the evening is over. In fact, once you have heard the boys settling things it will be no surprise to you if any day now one of them works it all out that there is nothing to this Santa Clause idea. (Parker, quoted in introduction to Dorothy Parker: Complete Stories, p.xi.)

Her voice is still heard in quotes that are used without attribution all over the world, because they just absolutely express the bon mot, the exact right way to say it. Here are a few of my favorites:

"The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity."

"You can't teach an old dogma new tricks."

"Heterosexuality is not normal, it's just common."

"That woman speaks eighteen languages, and can't say No in any of them."

"I'd rather have a bottle in front of me, than a frontal lobotomy."

• Location:Somewhere else...
• Mood:inspired
• Music:Eric Clapton, "White Room"

And Today's Ancestor Is...

• Oct. 17th, 2008 at 10:02 PM

...Martin Fennelly, who with his brother Patrick (my great-great grandfather) and their sisters Margaret and Elanor moved from County Kilkenny to Connecticut in 1896. They started a guesthouse in Ansonia Connecticut, and apparently made money enough to buy a home and got pretty well established. Martin has come down through the family as the quintessence of a gentleman...one who took care of his sisters at the expense of his own happiness, apparently, until finally in his later years he married a younger woman, whose name we have not yet ascertained for sure although it might have been Elizabeth. They produced progeny, she being younger than he, and lived with his 2 spinster sisters to be sure they were "well-taken-care-of", since of course in those days a woman without a husband was at anyone's mercy. From him stemmed the "other Fennellys", the ones who didn't all move to New York, and created an enclave in Derby Connecticut which was home to lots of other displaced Irish folk. So hail Uncle Martin! You kept us together...

• Location:On my way to a long, hot bath
• Mood: tired
• Music:Roscommon

Today's Ancestor Offering

• Oct. 18th, 2008 at 9:02 PM

Goes to another Cultural Ancestor, Susan Cooper. "The Dark Is Rising" is not only a wonderful series of books,. it is witchy in the extreme (for a set of books based on Xtian theology, it's amazing) and has become a centerpiece of our family and coven wheel of the year. Reading these books every year at the appropriate time (starting at Yule) used to be a family tradition. We need to start doing that again. In any case, I tip my Witch Hat (see previous entry) to Susan Cooper this year, and wish her well....and really, really wish she'd write something else.

• Location:in bed
• Mood:calm and sleepy
• Music:Rock My Soul In The Bosom Of Abraham

A Wee Bit O' Blarney, Albeit Out Of Season..

Flattery will get you everywhere, I think. I hope. Because I have just spent a great deal of time having an online conversation with a person I don't like much. And I didn't say anything which wasn't true, because there are things I can say that ARE true about what this woman does, and they are good things. Someone doesn't have to be someone I like to do work that I admire...but that doesn't mean I have to like her, or who she is, or how she treats me....So...why do I feel dirty? Why do I feel like a hypocrite, when nothing I said to her is untrue? Because I said those things to her because I want something? But she knows what I want, and she is ok with it. It's just that I know that I wouldn't be talking to her at all if there weren't something I want. And I would prefer to say how I really feel about her, TO her, and I don't feel like I can. So...I make nice, online, to get her to do what I need her to do. And I go offline, to this blog, that is a place I can be honest with the world, and say that it makes me feel like a bad person, like a liar, even thought I never told a lie at all. It is completely irrational to feel the way I do. I will have to figure out WHY.