The above picture shows one of the two most influential people in my life (outside of family). Eveline was my piano teacher throughout my childhood and adolescence, and later became a dear friend. She taught me pretty much everything I know about the piano and was an amazing teacher. And when I was in my 20s, we’d frequently visit each other and go on adventures, “stalking” our favourite pianists, slipping into rehearsals where we had no business being present, and sneaking into the back entrance of concert halls to get a handshake and perhaps an autograph (Eveline), and basically faint from being so smitten (me).

I’ll never forget her. She had vast knowledge, strong opinions, and a dry, deadpan sense of humour that still cracks me up whenever I think back. There’s been an Eveline-shaped hole in my heart ever since her untimely death in 2011.

Music is one of the few constants in my life. Being a multi-passionate, I’ve often moved from one shiny thing to the next, and still do. But I’ve always loved music and I’ve always loved the piano more than anything else in the world. If anyone had told me when I was growing up, that there would be a time, years even, without me even practising, I’d have laughed at them.

To put this in context: When I almost died of pneumonia at 19 and was only released from hospital for Easter on the condition that I strictly kept to my bed, I waited until my parents went out grocery shopping, and then staggered to my piano to play. Years later, when I had a broken shoulderblade, I took my arm out of the sling bandage so I could practice, until there was an audible “crack” and jarring pain. I could literally not live without playing. It was my life.

The picture of Eveline was taken in a flat in Vienna where I lived for a few months after getting my M.A. in Frankfurt. I spent the summer there before moving on to Romania to teach at two universities in Iasi. My most important criterion for choosing a flat was that it had to have a piano. This is me at the place in Vienna, probably playing my favourite piece of all time, a Nocturne by Chopin:

But it all started way earlier. Here’s me at around age 14 or so, practising with my school friend Sandra, also one of Eveline’s pupils. We often played four-handed pieces together.

I always had a piano, although I didn’t always practise very regularly, for example during the last years of my M.A. when I was working to make ends meet and studying at the same time. But I never gave up on it. I needed that sensual feeling of the cool keys under my hands, and the full-body experience of playing, the keys with my hands and the pedals with my feet.

Until the early 2000s, when I ran into financial trouble – you may have heard the story – and couldn’t even afford having a piano any longer. Then came the move back to Ireland and working 16 hours a day to dig myself out (which I managed, by the way), and after that followed the depression and the “dark years”, when my only ray of light was coaching and my inspiring clients, as well as the coaching qualification I got.

And then I re-emerged in 2015 and began the long journey of healing. Like I said in my last post: I’m amazed that three years later, I’m still putting together the pieces. I feel like this is the last one, the most important one.

Many years ago, and once again in my magic city Vienna, I discovered the best pianos in the world. This is completely subjective – there are quite a few excellent brands, and which one a player prefers, depends pretty much on personal taste. When I first touched an August Förster piano, I fell in love, instantly and irrevocably. It’s got the most amazing attack/”feel” to it, soft as velvet and yet crystal clear, and it sounds, oh man, out of this world.

Here’s my dream piano:

The problem is that it costs about 14,000 EUR. Which isn’t expensive, by the way. These pianos are built by hand by highly trained craftsmen in an insanely painstaking process. It’s worth every cent, but I still don’t have 14 grand lying around, as my dear Inga puts it. So I thought I’d get to it after I buy my own house and can save up for something else again.

The point of this post – yes, there is one! – is that I realised I can’t afford to put off playing any longer, just because I can’t afford the piano of my dreams just yet. I’ll still buy it one day, perhaps 3-5 years from now, but I need to get back into practising, and pronto. I need to, if I want to have any hope of recovering a degree of my lost skill. And I definitely need to in order to complete the healing of my heart and soul and life. Nothing matters more than this.

And so I started researching and found that there’s a small but fine and very well-run piano store just down the road in Athenry! Where I found a decent, beautifully restored second-hand piano for just over two grand. It’ll do me very well for recovering my skill and practising for the next few years.

I’m no longer waiting for life to happen. I’m alive now. When I move out (and hopefully into my own place), I’ll pay for professional transport of the piano. It’s affordable, and worth it. And I’m practically vibrating with excitement and anticipation. Pictures will follow once it’s arrived!

For now, here’s the piano I learned to play on, in my parent’s house. Another excellent German manufacturer (just like Förster), Schimmel.

Soon, I’ll be complete again.

Please feel free to leave a comment below. It will be visible after approval and I respond to every comment, so do check back later!

If you’d like a quick email notification every time I post something new on my blog, fill in this little form. I give you my hagish word that I’ll never spam you or pass on your data!

Wien bei Nacht (Vienna By Night), by Reinhard Fendrich

(pleeeaaaaase, read to the end, this isn’t just about one subject)

Being a bird person, I’m not talking about “birthing” something when I describe a new thing I bring into the world. No, it feels more like I’m a hen sitting on her eggs, incubating not a fluffy feathery chick (although, come to think of it… they are very cute), but my own work.

I’m all kinds of fed up.

I’m also all kinds of happy and on fire with joy.

It’s one heck of a mix, I’m telling ya. So the story is, I’m carrying this amazing message into the world, of doing what lights you up and not just thinking about it and going: “One day, I’ll…” and shit, but actually feeling the joy of putting it into practice. And it’s transformational for my clients and a huge privilege for me to witness and help with.

But. It’s not happening fast enough. I’m not a patient hag. I’ve dreamt for long enough, I need this stuff to manifest already, dammit (I feel like this cartoon of the buddhist whose apprentice goes: “Come on, blissful detachment – I haven’t got all day!”). Most importantly, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m capable of so much more.

Coaching is the way it is for a reason. That reason is because it just works. And yet, there are new ways being discovered all the time, and I’m an innovator by nature. It’s dangerous to come into a new discipline and try to revolutionise it all before learning the ins and outs of the existing system, but I’m rather familiar and comfortable with the coaching toolkit and so I feel ready to… well… break new ground.

I currently have a week off work and it’s frustrating because I know I need at least another week to even begin developing this. There’s nothing worse than never getting to what I need to do! This is exactly why I’ve talked about growing my biz for so long and up to about six months ago, never really taken consistent action.

This is it, and I’m announcing it to the world:

You’re going to see (even) less of me for the coming year. I’ll be working almost all the time. By autumn of 2019, if I haven’t made significant progress in my business that makes it feasible that I’ll be able to live off it without a daytime job at some point, I’ll make a change.

Because I no longer want to never have time to spare for people I love. If it doesn’t work, I’ll either stick with my job, or go freelance, or think of something, but I won’t work as much anymore. That’s a promise.

Until then, though, I’ll disappear. And here’s where I hope my friends won’t give up on me. It means I may miss the occasional party. The Gort Community Markets (which kinda died this summer, but are now thankfully being picked up by a bunch of amazing people who’re making a go of it). Workshops, gigs, gatherings. Please don’t forget me, I’m still here. And keep inviting me – if I can make it, I’ll come. And you’re always welcome here, as long as I know a few days in advance. Deal?

To stay sane, I’ll keep walking my talk and working on my own passions, and I’ll also break the 1 1/2 years of no holidays anywhere by actually going to Vienna in March. I know it’s a few months still but gods I’m so bloody excited, I could jump up and down all day! I can’t even begin to describe the emotions flooding me. So many memories. So much I’d clean forgotten in the “dark years”, things that are part of me, of the fabric of my very soul. Music, mostly. In March, I’ll hear Kissin in the Musikverein and see a stellar production of Figaro in the State Opera. Oh gods, I can’t wait.

Check out one of my favourite recordings of Kissin:

Evgeny Kissin playing Liszt’s piano transcription of the Schubert song “Gretchen am Spinnrade”

I’ll write more about Vienna next time, suffice it to say that I can’t believe I’ve existed so long without visiting. This used to be my life. I dislike cities usually, but this is one’s akin to the love of my life. Pure ecstasy.

Please feel free to leave a comment below. It will be visible after approval and I respond to every comment, so do check back later!

If you’d like a quick email notification every time I post something new on my blog, fill in this little form. I give you my hagish word that I’ll never spam you or pass on your data!

I was this close to losing my faith in the people here in recent weeks.

If anyone doesn’t know about this: This Friday, Ireland voted on whether or not to remove an amendmend to our constitution which puts a blanket ban on abortions. No other country I know of has a blanket ban written into their constitution, for the simple reason that it doesn’t belong there. Constitutions are for black-and-white stuff like human dignity being inviolable. Abortion is far too complex a subject.

The problem is that those in Ireland who campaigned for a “No” (to removing the amendmend), brought the issue down to personal beliefs about abortion. Their posters spread outright lies – such as “1 in 5 babies in the UK are aborted”, when in actual fact it’s about 8 in 1000 (1 in 5 would be 200…) – and proclaimed that repealing the amendment was “too extreme”, often explicitly stating that repealing meant to allow abortions anytime, anywhere, right up to birth.

None of that’s true, of course. I happen to believe a woman’s body is her own and she should be the one to decide, but the thing is, all these details will have to be discussed when they bring in proper legislation about abortions; the referendum was only about making such legislation possible by removing the blanket ban. It was about preventing horrible deaths and hardships (google “Savita Halappanavar” or “Michelle Harte”) due to women being denied life-saving treatments, 14-year-old rape victims forced to carry out their pregnancies, and other atrocities.

The No-side was very well funded, among other things by American pro-life groups, and there were sickening incidents like a TV debate in which people actually laughed at tragic deaths due to the 8th amendmend, and towns like my beloved Ballinrobe plastered with No posters (I counted 19 No to 2 Yes posters there the other day). It seemed we were inundated by people who would place a foetus’s life above that of the mother, who cynically told women to keep travelling to the UK for abortions, and who attacked and harrassed Yes-campaigners.

That’s not the Ireland I love. Before I continue, please let me clarify what I mean by “love”: I mean the country as in, literally, the land, and the beautiful, big-hearted, witty and wry-humoured people here. I’ve never loved the political construct of a country as a state and believe that patriotism is vile (in my opinion, things like a functioning democracy and its institutions should be appreciated and upheld and forever improved, but in a rational, intellectual way. There’s no place for personal pride or emotions there; I find they always have a nasty aftertaste of fascism).

Then came voting day and it turned out that the vast majority of people – two thirds, in fact – are in favour of removing the admendmend. My relief and joy was mirrored by my wonderful friends, there was an atmosphere of giddy, tearful gratitude in the air as the voting counts trickled in yesterday. What had seemed like a majority belief turned out to be just a very loud minority – and I now believe, it’s an even smaller minority than one third of the population, because many foreigners like myself didn’t have a vote, and even those who voted No were often simply uninformed.

I was sitting in my favourite cafe at lunch, tears in my eyes as I saw the first results, when a woman sat down at my table (the place was crowded), introduced herself as Margaret, and in the inimitable way of people in this country, started chatting to me. She said she hadn’t voted but would have voted No, because she believes “babies shouldn’t be aborted.”

I took a deep breath.

Here I was, overflowing with love and gratitude, and now this. We started discussing the matter and it turned out, she had no idea of the actual issue at hand. She hadn’t even heard about Savita, who died of sepsis because of a drawn-out miscarriage. The miscarriage was inevitable, but because it took so long, infection set in. “But they should have just taken the foetus out of her!” exclaimed Margaret. “Exactly,” I said. “But they couldn’t, because the amendmend forbid it.”

We kept talking and then parted as friends, and I felt another wave of love as I realised that many who voted No must have been just as uninformed. It’s hard to fathom in 2018, but many people in rural Ireland still don’t have internet. All their information came from those vile, lying No campaigners. That’s why we need to keep having the conversations, the way we’ve all done in the past few months, especially those legends, the Yes canvassers. The actual haters are a tiny minority, and face it, there’s a few assholes in every place and every group of people. The No campaign has tried to divide the people; we need to flip them the finger and extend the love and compassion we have for pregnant women, to the Margarets of this country.

My faith in humanity is restored.

I went on to do archery in Massbrook and felt like I’d slipped into mythological Ireland. Dappled sunlight through the trees, birds singing, mild air, soft moss. Afterwards, I drove back home and went on to a birthday BBQ at a friend’s house, with more joyful, relieved people, great food and good music. It was a charmed day, every place and every person steeped in magic.

These past few weeks, I had seriously considered leaving the country. It felt hostile. At the same time, I’m so rooted in this place, interwoven with the very fabric of the land, the bones of the earth mother, that the mere thought of leaving is unsettling. I still might do it one day, I’m never saying never, but now I don’t feel like I “have to” any longer because I realise that it’s still, in fact, the place and the people I love.

Please feel free to leave a comment below. It will be visible after approval and I respond to every comment, so do check back later!

If you’d like a quick email notification every time I post something new on my blog, fill in this little form. I give you my hagish word that I’ll never spam you or pass on your data!

Currently, I’m once again wondering whether blogging is still the right medium for me. Fewer and fewer people seem to read or engage in conversation, especially with my usually happy posts. I’m just not interested in holding a monologue! People are my lifeblood, one of my main passions actually, and talking to myself is not my thing.

To liven things up, I thought I’d do a fun “How well do you know the hag?” quiz. Answers are given at the end of this post. Here are the five questions:

1. What are my top three favourite bands of all time?
2. What’s my favourite symphony?
3. What’s my favourite piano concerto?
4. Who’s my favourite poet?
5. What’s my favourite movie?

Tee hee. If you manage all five, you really do know me well!

The thing is, I wear my heart on my sleeve and I love pretty much everyone, so people often get the impression that I’m an open book. But actually, I have a lot of different interests (multi-passionate…), from music and people and Coaching to birds and archery and HEMA and gaming, and I only let a very few, select people get really close. Those are treasured, trusted friends whose number I can literally count on the fingers of one hand.

I am, however, happy to share fairly personal things here on my website, as you’ve probably noticed. And I’ll continue to do so, as long as I get any sign from ye that you’re interested in reading this stuff. So, give me a sign! Joining the conversation by leaving a comment is one way; signing up to receive a quick email every time I post a new article, another.

So what have I been up to? Working. A lot. I’ve been talking about building up my Coaching business for years, and then never quite seen it through. It’s got a lot to do with personal issues like fear of visibility, and “what will my friends think if I get successful?” I may even make money, shock horror! Of course, none of this is conscious thinking, but it’s there in the background of a woman who grew up in the 70s and 80s when every cultural message to women was: be good, be there for others, do what you want in theory – but whatever you do, don’t stick out.

Screw all that, is what I say with my conscious mind. And I’m making another effort to bring this across and see it through this time. Amazingly, whenever I mentioned anything about my business here in my personal blog, people have patently ignored it. I’m sure you never meant to do this, but: It really re-enforces the message of: “Yikes, who does she think she is? How embarrassing. Let’s just be quiet, hoping she’ll get the hint and drop the subject.”

I’m not going to drop it. The other day, I was thinking through the concept of Wild Spirits Coaching, and realised that what I’m doing is nothing less than changing the world. I’m helping people to break free from this nightmarish version of “reality” of working one’s ass off to pay bills, buy stuff, and consume, and for what? “Security”? I say screw security and go for joy instead. Dare to do what you love. Dare to build your life around it. If you’re ready to do that, come to me, I’ll be happy to help. You’re here for a reason, a purpose, and it’s time to find it and align your life with it.

My prices are among the most affordable in the industry because I want everyone to be able to do this if they’re serious about it. So get on my email list. Sign up for a free checklist on beating procrastination, while you’re about it. You’ll get weekly Coaching magic into your inbox to boot, and no spam ever – solemn hagish promise.

The world needs this stuff. I’ve had it with playing small. If this makes you uncomfortable, then trust me, I get it. I was for the longest time, but I’m done. Don’t expect to ever see me return to silence and “normality”. The norm is a nightmare we badly need to wake up from. The real world is beautiful, so are people, and life is an ecstatic adventure, if only you dare to take your eyes off the media for long enough to notice. I’m a herald of this beautiful reality. In a way I feel like Morpheus in the Matrix movies, waking people up out of the artificial illusion of life and to what’s real.

What’s real is unconditional love, joy, passion, and authenticity. It’s also people feeling shit and battling trauma and loss and all that. But they’re choosing to battle, not succumb. They’re choosing joy. In a world of Trumps and Brexits, nothing’s more revolutionary than being relentlessly optimistic and overflowingly happy.

If you dare to be all that, then you’re part of my tribe. Welcome. If you’re not, I still love you, but you might not find much to your taste on this website (or my Coaching website, for that matter).

Here are the answers to the hag quiz!

1. What are my top three favourite bands of all time?
Number one: Yes (or rather, whatever they did in the 70s). Example here.
Number two: Jethro Tull. My favourite song here.
Number three: the early Marillion years, with Fish as their singer. Another favourite song.

2. What’s my favourite symphony?
Brahm’s 4th.

3. What’s my favourite piano concerto?
Prokofiev’s 1st.

4. Who’s my favourite poet?
Hugo von Hofmannsthal. You really need to know German to appreciate him. Absolute magician with language.

5. What’s my favourite movie?
The Age of Innocence. My favourite male and female actors together, incredible dramatisation of an amazing novel. Perfection.

Please feel free to leave a comment below. It will be visible after approval and I respond to every comment, so do check back later!

If you’d like a quick email notification every time I post something new on my blog, fill in this little form. I give you my hagish word that I’ll never spam you or pass on your data!

Here’s a rather dark video with lots of appropriately blurry pictures of the party last Saturday. I had a great time dancing and hugging people I love. Inga, Rachel and Maeve had even come up from Cork!

It was my friend Andrew’s birthday that day and mine yesterday, so we celebrated together and he even organised a DJ. All three of us took turns putting on music, so yes, I did get a chance to play some 80s – the good kind, I hasten to add. It made me realise how many younger people I know – those 30-somethings didn’t know half the tunes! Makes me even more determined to put together a full night of 80s music somewhere, some time. Watch this space.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It feels more like a birthday week to me this year, which is brilliant. The morning after the party I got more hugs and presents, this time from our lovely people at the Gort Community Market. And yesterday – my actual birthday – I dragged Jack along with me to Mayo. We had lunch in my favourite cafe, they refused to let me pay for it (awww!), and then we went to Massbrook for a round of archery.

The weather was spectacular, almost no wind and bright sunshine. It was icy cold, though; we had on so many layers, it felt like wearing a duvet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the way, Jack actually makes longbows, he’s a master bowyer by trade and rather scarily good at what he does. I know I have a lot of readers who are into traditional archery too, so I just thought I’d give you the link to his new website Living Longbows (still a work in progress, but definitely worth bookmarking). My own longbow is in the first blog entry!

So, I’ve had a wonderful birthday and I’m a very happy 48-years-old hag. I mentioned before that I’m currently using every cent to pay back a rather hefty loan, but right now I feel rich, and it’s not just because of the presents – although they were spot-on!

Even the birds got something: Jack and Ziva and the hobbits gave me a metal-grid feeder for fatballs (among other things) and my rooks are fairly pissed off with me. The smaller birds did exactly what my budgies used to do whenever I put anything new into the aviary: They were scared of it at first, then patently ignored it for a while, and then their curiosity got the better of them and they started eating from it. Bets are now open on how long it’s going to take the rooks to figure out that they can simply lift the lid and take out a fatball.

Before I go, here’s a picture of me tired on the evening of my birthday:

Please feel free to leave a comment below. It will be visible after approval and I respond to every comment, so do check back later!

If you’d like a quick email notification every time I post something new on my blog, fill in this little form. I give you my hagish word that I’ll never spam you or pass on your data!