Flora Ní Fae

A dilemma which I have recently found myself in; how to know when my time in a place is done. I have a knack for over-staying. I blame it on my being a Libra. Loyal to a fault, to both humans and places. I have over-stayed on couches, in relationships, in countries that I loved so much that I ignored the little words on the visa stamped into my passport pages…but now I come to a point where, after 12 years in a country that I was not born in, opportunities and, more importantly, inspiration, has dried up. I do believe in signs from a higher being, and at the moment, that being is fervently telling me to pack my bags and get out of there!

All of the things which previously I found made me feel a sense of security, of home, such as friends, a sweet house to live in alone in one of the most beautiful locations I have ever been privileged to see, are gone. The last threads of this tie that have held me to this country for so long are falling away, some very quickly and abruptly, and I find myself wondering why I should stick it out when there is nothing left for me there. I am currently working in another country, due to go home in three months, and I suddenly find myself seeking my next destination. To be honest, I feel like I am seeking an extra-marital relationship! My heart has really belonged to this place for so long, I spent all of my 20s there, good times/emotional times/gut-wrenchingly difficult times, and it is a hard relationship to see come to an end. I know it may not be forever, but it is a serious step away from the home I have made for myself away from my homeland.

Saying this, one of the places I planned to return to in September is Canada. Berlin is also on the list, as is Scandinavia. Oh, and Hawaii.

While I dream of and plan for setting up in these places in future, I must also mention that I am without a trade. I call myself a bit of a ‘Dupree’. And I am fed up with trying to make a living with menial jobs, when these jobs hack away chunks of time that I would like to dedicate to pursuing my passions. I’ve never been able to find that magical balance between the two, if it exists. I have done a few half-hearted attempts at the studying thing, and I have finally, after an exhaustingly long struggle with myself, decided to allow myself to be who I am. And I am NOT a student. I wish I was! Oh, how I wish! The world is much more gentle to people who follow that University – Work path. I envy them. I have taken every single turn-off that main road in my life so far, and to go back to it, even for a year or two, would be crippling for me.

How to combine this constant need for mobility with a sustainable, profitable mode of work? I have done the waitressing/crappy backpacker jobs thing long enough. I find the thought of continuing it at this point to be repulsive. Literally, I am REPULSED. I know my strengths, and my skills, and my passions, and it’s just a matter of being in the right place and making the connections to get started.

I love writing, for one.It’s healing and it never feels like ‘work’ for me. The words just flow out.

See, at the beginning of this post my head was in a spin. I couldn’t focus, I was panicking internally at the uncertain manoeuvres ahead of me and how to carry them out….and by just setting all of this outside of my poor little head, I have regained a teensy smidgen of a foothold of myself.

I thank you, Internet world, for giving us this blank canvas on which we can create, and work out our mind-itches, and see other people’s questions about life. I look forward to finding some answers, SOON! X

I made my New Year’s Eve ritual simple this year. Not that I am a Mistress of Elaborate Rituals in any way, but this was a fairly straight-forward one. I made a rambling list of what I want to do and see and accomplish this year. I also wrote a letter to someone close to me who passed away in recent years. I put them in a plain white envelope, and let it sit for about an hour, while I pfaffed about the house, mind focusing entirely on calling the contents of the envelope to Life. A more efficient Witch would have probably sat and meditated on the list, but I should say now that I find my mind is in full-on Zen mode while I tidy. Strange, I know, but maybe there’s a reason Witches always have brooms next to them? Just sayin’…
When I felt that the manifestation was underway, I sat out my bedroom window and watched the letter burn. I left it smouldering this time on the ledge until it was ash. And, different to previous rituals like this, I actually did NOT scatter the ashes. I left them overnight outside my bedroom window and let the Alpine mountain wind take them as they wished. It has taken two days of non-interference but by now every little speck of ash is done.
After it had been left down to smoulder, I had a nice little moment staring up at the stars and just…being. In the midst of moving here, re-kindling a long distance relationship and turning it into *very* short distance (i.e. living together), and all of my normal daily mind-grumbles, I forget to Look Up! This was on my list; be more present and WORRY LESS!
I’ve decided, that, above all, this will be a year for setting up the next ten, so to speak. I want to put myself in a position where I can lead a secure, semi-nomadic life. I am now the owner of two different coloured passports which bargain me entry into two very privileged geographical regions. These two regions offer me enough resources for education and enjoyment to last for the rest of my life. My list of where to go next never stops writing itself. The only barriers? Money, and motivation. So, these two shall be my main focus for 2017.

Other projects include putting more energy into this writing blog, making more intricate personal rituals (just for the craic! 😉 ), and another creative project that I am over-joyed to be working on with one of the most important people in my life, my Grandmother. Travel is particularly important this year; I foresee a lot of packing and moving and re-assessing how much ‘stuff’ I plan on hanging on to . This is a tough one, as I am a traveller by nature but rather than be on the move constantly, I have a need to ‘nest’ in each place I live and stay awhile. This means I like familiar things around me and the comfort and temporary security of a specified ‘home. Alongside this, the re-adjustment to being a student, and at that, one on the move quite often, studying at my own pace, is taking a lot of focus and effort also.

This will be an exciting year!!!

Wishing the world a healthful, positive start to 2017 and a remembrance and re-learning of human compassion and love, above all, which is the right of every being. Peace & Love in 2017 xxx

Homesickness,

The chronic discomfort that comes along with the privilege of having seen and lived in so many different places. Today my homesickness is for the city in the West of Ireland where I spent the whole of my 20s. A good friend of mine had a health scare within their family, and I’d love nothing more at this moment to be sitting at their kitchen table, chatting over pots of tea and her delicious home-cooked food. Actually, it was in this kitchen, about two years ago, that I found myself acknowledging that my years of bouncing between cities, crashing on friends’ couches, being non-committal to any and all living and work situations, had come to an end. Maybe it was because this was a Mom’s house, with photos around the house, plants, paintings and artwork from the now-grown-up children…it seemed so … wonderful! to me.  I spoke the words out loud ‘I really want to have a Home now’. I said them to no one in particular, but my friend’s Mom, who was preparing food at the kitchen counter, over-heard me and quietly tittered but said nothing in response, leaving the spoken words hovering in the air for a moment, just simmering. A few months later, I settled into a little house on a hill, over-looking the most beautiful mountain-valley scene you will ever behold. A year and half later, I am on hiatus working elsewhere for five months, and I am painfully homesick for my little house. In it, I know where everything is, my shoes are lined up at the backdoor. Nothing is packed up in storage, my whole material and practical life is in that house. The kitchen is fully stocked with things that only a Settled person would have in their kitchen, and that, to travellers, is an often-missed luxury as it takes up too much space in a backpack (i.e. muffin tins! Yeast! A spice rack!). Luckily a friend has been staying with me for a few months and will hold down the fort until I get Home, but I have found, already, after only one month away, that that house means so much more to me than I realised.

We used to have a family cottage that was sold two year ago, right after my Mom passed away. It had been in the family for two generations so far, and when she passed my grandmother realised that no one in my generation was in a position to take it on after her. So, the heartbreaking decision to sell. I never went back for a final visit. The day it sold, thousands of miles away across the Atlantic ocean, I felt it in my heart. More than my parents’ house where I grew up, when I close my eyes I can see every single detail of that cottage on the sea. The wallpaper, the smell, the antique family furniture, my Grandma, always working away in the kitchen, baking bread or doing her crosswords at the big round kitchen table. It belongs to some other family now, and it doesn’t seem right. But I doubt I will ever go and see it again. All of our childhood summers, some winters, were spent there. We lived on the beach, up at dawn, out the door, only coming in when we were called for lunch. Grandma met us at the door with a bucket of water to wash the beachy sand off us – however she never quite got it all and the little footprints of sand all over the house were testament to our adventures. Jake, the village dog, was outside waiting for us every morning. My little friend, Jennifer, who lived next door, would put the kitchen blind up so I knew when her parents were awake and I could go over and get her to play. An idyllic childhood.
Our other cottage, from the other side of the family, on a beautiful lake in Quebec. Also, sold long ago when my Grandpa passed away. Originally it was a pretty rustic little shack on the side of the mountain, looking down towards the water. Early in the mornings my Grandmaman would show me this figure down below, which looked like a floating chandelier in the water. I couldn’t believe it. A moose! Out for his morning swim! I loved when she walked down to the waterside with me and my brother; we’d do a little ‘parade’ and make lots of music with pots and pans. It only occurred to me a few years ago we were actually telling the bears in the area we were coming. How like my Grandmaman not to spoil a perfectly innocent childhood activity with fear…of bears! Ha! The same as the other cottage, we would go to bed with sand between our toes every day.
On the other hand, the holiday season having just passed, I spent Christmas Eve and Day lamenting that I was not with my family in Canada, where I grew up. Our family has significantly shrunk over the last few years, and the thought of my little band of kinfolk sitting around the table as always, minus a few loved ones who have passed on, brought me to tears several times. ‘The Sea is Wide / And I cannot swim over / nor have I / the wings for to fly’ kept playing in my head. There was nothing I could do but hunker down in my current location and be grateful to be alive and well, and in a pretty sweet spot for the winter! But the feeling of being so intensely torn in multi directions…it is one I suppose I will always have and will have to make peace with. There is no one place I love more than the others. It is a complete and equal split.
I have to consider myself lucky that I have so many heart connections with people around the world. The reality is, I cannot be with every one of them all at once. Two years ago, when I had just found what would become my first adult home, I heard a refrain in my mind. ‘Plant your feet, plant your feet’. I realised that when you plant your feet in a place, things grow. I have a garden, but I’m not just talking about that! Opportunities arise, and with this new type of security, you have the time to get to know a different side of yourself. More aspirations can arise, now that you have a base from which to access resources and make connections. I’ll never regret my decision to plant my feet. I owe it to these friends of mine whose home triggered something in me that day, when I spoke the words aloud and the Mom tittered, it set off a chain of reactions that led me to finding exactly what I needed.
Until I can be with them at their kitchen table in Real Life, writing this will have to temporarily suffice. During the process of writing, I in fact WAS transported to their kitchen table. I could almost smell something delicious in the oven, and hear the radio.

The magic of the mind and pen when paired!