Tag Archives: magic

The Lightbridge Mystery

Hi guys. I have some exciting news for you. Recently, I wrote a children’s book for my honorary niece Cici Lily’s birthday. On Saturday, it went for sale on Amazon for Kindle for just 99 cent.

The book has been described as a “real page-turner” and it contains a wonderful message for children and adults alike.

If you like what you’ve been reading on my blog, you might like to check it out. And feel free to share.

Thank you so much for your support and encouragement over the years. It really means a lot.

Here’s the link for The Lightbridge Mystery

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00TV3DIRO

The Lightbridge Mystery on Amazon Kindle

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Fairy Story

Last night, as I flicked through an old copy book in search of an empty page, I stumbled upon a Fairy Story that I’d been asked to write as part of an Inner Child workshop I’d taken part in a while back. Here it is…

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful, perfect little princess called Sharabella. There was something about this girl that shone brilliantly from within. You could see it in the sparkle of her eyes and her fun-loving laugh.

People loved to be around Sharabella. She didn’t even have to do anything. People just felt better after having been in her presence.

This was Princess Sharabella’s magic gift. She simply had to be herself and others were healed. All was well in this magical kingdom.

However, there came a time when Princess Sharabella was needed in a very different kingdom. A kingdom that was full of pain, sadness and suffering. The Powers That Be decided that Princess Sharabella could help transform this kingdom’s pain into love and beauty. 

Sharabella landed on this kingdom filled with peace and optimism. What Princess Sharabella hadn’t counted on was how much skepticism and resistance she’d face. 

Slowly over time, poor Sharabella began to doubt her magic powers. She started to wonder if she really was as perfect and beautiful as she’d once believed. 

It was such a struggle trying to change these people’s way of looking at things so Sharabella began to shut up and shut down.

Her beautiful light dimmed more and more over the years until one day, when The Powers That Be paid this dark, gloomy kingdom a visit, they no longer recognised beautiful Princess Sharabella. 

Sharabella was tired, grey and depressed. When The Powers That Be finally realised who she was, they asked her what had happened. 

At first, Princess Sharabella didn’t know what they were talking about. “This is who I am now,” she stated gruffly. “I’m ugly and useless and this kingdom would be better off without me.”

“But once upon a time, you were Princess Sharabella – the most beautiful, luminous, perfect creature, with the gift of healing others with your mere presence,” The Powers That Be exclaimed.

Nobody realised that an outsider had overheard their conversation. A crippled old lady had witnessed the whole exchange. She was moved to tears by Sharabella’s despondence. If a Princess despised herself so much, what hope did the rest of them have?

The old lady couldn’t help but speak out. “Excuse me,” she interrupted as she leaned on her walking cane. “I’m confused. I have to ask: What is a Princess doing in this horrible kingdom? This place is filled with hate and destruction. Us citizens know no different. We’re used to this life. But you? I urge you to get out. Save yourself, while you still can!”

The lady trembled with urgency while The Powers That Be stood there, uncertain as to how to proceed.

Slowly, Sharabella looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. She started to sob – loud, uncontrollable gulps of emotion.

As she cried, her cloudy, grey eyes turned to bright blue. Her ashen complexion became rosy pink. A brilliant light flickered, then started to beam out with such magnificence that everybody dropped to their knees in awe.

In this moment, Sharabella realised that she was not the ugly, depressed woman she had grown to believe she was. She remembered that she was the beautiful, perfect Princess that was her birthright. It had simply become unclear and difficult to express in a kingdom that had never accepted such perfection.

If she could heal people in her old kingdom, she knew she could do it here too. But not if she continued believing that she was ugly and worthless.

Suddenly the old lady, inspired by what she had just witnessed, ran away, excited to tell her friends and family what had just happened. 

“She forgot her walking cane,” Sharabella said. And Princess Sharabella and The Powers That Be laughed and laughed.

weheartit.com

weheartit.com

Powerful Questions

My Life Coaching teacher asked one of my classmates the following question:

“If you went to a fortune-teller, what area of your life would you most like to know about? And what would you like the fortune-teller to tell you about it?”

This morning, armed with a cup of tea, pen and paper, I sat down to answer that question for myself. And this is what I wrote:

“I don’t think I’d like to know. There’s something magic and exciting about imagining what wonderful things are going to happen.

“I won’t limit myself. I could be disappointed with what the fortune-teller tells me. Or I could start looking for that one particular thing, thus ruling out other possibilities.

“I’m constantly evolving and raising my vibration so my destiny is rapidly changing. Plus, I have free will.”

Every morning, I ask myself: “I wonder what wonderful things are going to happen today.” I want to remain open to that enthusiasm and opportunity.

There’s something powerful about asking questions that make you think outside the box. It can be really insightful to answer such questions. What would your answer be?

And if, like me, you enjoy lateral thinking, here are some more questions asked by the Life Coaching teacher last weekend:

  • If you could be any age, what age would you be and why?
  • If you were a fictional character, who would you be? Why?
  • If you were immortal for a day, what would you do?
  • If you could change your name, what would you change it to? Why?
  • If you could be any drink, what would you be?
  • How would the person who loves you most describe you?
  • If you could wave a magic wand to give yourself an extra characteristic, what would it be?
  • In five years’ time, what would you like your life to be like?
  • If you knew you couldn’t fail and nobody would judge you, what would you do?
  • What are the three most important things in your life?
pinterest.com

pinterest.com

Life as Miracle

Life is miraculous. From pregnancy to childbirth; fingernails and eyelashes, involuntary muscle action and the healing process; sleep and dreams, tears and laughter, memory and pain, pleasure and love…

Miracles abound in plant life and in the world beneath the ocean; from sleeping flowers to deep-sea bioluminescence. In the moon’s effects on the tides. In the stars and the planets that glow. In the ever-changing, ever-moving clouds and the simple strangeness of a rainbow. In rivers and mountains and volcanoes. In the mere 62 miles from here to outer space.

Miracles can be sensed in the steady growth of a seed, in the sweet scent of yellow furze, in a silent snowfall. A miracle can be witnessed in every lamb, lion, peacock and panther. In every earthworm, elephant, foal and firefly. In the astonishing metamorphosis of frogspawn, caterpillars and eggs to frogs, butterflies and soaring eagles. In the transformation of chunks of wood to keening violins, the deep tones of a cello, the heartbreaking ambience of a piano and the flamenco dancers invigorated by the passionate plucking of guitar strings.

Miracles can be felt in the beauty that arises from sweeping paintbrushes, from words that tumble from vision to feeling to pen to paper, from a voice that channels raw emotions. Miracles can be found in mathematical genius, geometry and quantum physics. In spirituality, creation, destruction and creator.

A miracle is born with every breath and birdsong; when the leaves dance in the wind, the weeping willow sways and the cherry blossoms fall. Miracles rejoice in the delightful chuckle of an infant, in a lover’s touch, in the awe-struck appreciation of a sunset…

The miracle of life is found in the searching, in the connection, in the bliss and in the discovery of self. In the present moment, in the here and now, in the being beyond language and analysis and definition, in the space between everything else; this is where magic happens. This is life as miracle.

Snow is falling…

I spotted the first spitting of snow this morning. I know most of us complained about last year’s white spell because it lasted so long. Dates were cancelled, flights were grounded, people were stranded, women couldn’t wear high heels.. However, here are a few reasons why I can’t help feeling excited when I see snowflakes…

No matter who or where you are, you simply have to yell at somebody, anybody, to make sure they can see that IT’S SNOWING!

Everybody could do with a snow day off work / school.

Everything. slows. down.

It’s just so pretty. A blanket of snow can transform the ugliest of settings into a winter wonderland.

It’s the perfect excuse for all things hot… Hot bath, hot stew, hot chocolate, hot port…

I’ll never be too old to delight in being the first to crunch across virgin snow.

Childlike, creative qualities are key – think snowballs, snow angels, snowmen… Last winter, my sister’s boyfriend built a slide and an igloo and drove around on a quad. I know who I’ll be hanging out with this year…

Last December, I met a friend for one hot toddy. We ended up in Swifts, the local (shit) night club, tearing up the dance floor in our hiking boots and wellies. Best night ever!

Hollywood has convinced us that it ain’t really Christmas ’til it snows…                         Merry Christmas!

Images: http://www.foundinthefells.com/monthly/FoundJan.htm

http://sunnyoverhere.tumblr.com/

http://allthingswinter.tumblr.com/post/14141693405

http://the-kraze.tumblr.com/post/14148939461

From the Depths of December

I wander downtown to buy Christmas cards, in the hope that it will assuage my guilt at not yet having begun shopping for presents. There is no escaping the swift approach of Yuletide on this brisk December day.

Fairy lights wind their way up tree trunks, like magic ivy. A middle-aged couple carries plastic bags and an air of exasperation. A Norway Spruce leans up against a wall, naked but on the brink of fulfilling its life purpose.

I pop in my iPod buds and drown out the world with the sounds of Video Games and VillagersA teenager rushes out of a pound shop, her face full of freckles and anticipation. I enter. A mother slaps her children’s hands away from sweets and toys. A man in dirty work clothes holds a basket brimming with tinsel.

I buy two packets of sparkly Santa cards and continue down the main street. A young boy bolts into the library. I follow. As I enquire after a Heather O’Neill novel, which is currently MIA, an elderly woman breezes up to the desk.

“It’s getting cold out there, Mrs O’Brien,” the male librarian tries.

“We’re all ageing,” the woman retorts.

He changes the subject.

“What do you think of the Budget?”

The woman doesn’t respond.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE BUDGET?” the librarian bellows. Children look up in disbelief.

“I heard you the first time,” the old lady announces. “I just don’t bother with all that shite!”

I leave without a book, but not without a story.

I take a detour home along the Liffey. The river is full and fast. The moon clings to the cobwebs of the morning sky. Drizzle settles on nettles. A reluctant dog is pulled toward the nonchalant swans. Ducks fly close to the water, their necks straining forwards.

Reeds clump together and float to the surface, like dead bodies. A leafless tree bends over the water, like a nude diver frozen in time. A woman jogs by, barely lifting her legs. A man in a track suit practises Tai Chi in the wet grass. I wonder if he’s crazy and try not to stare.

As I huddle on a park bench, ignoring the cold and blowing on a Biro, I decide that I am a writer and that there is nothing I’d rather be.

“It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment?” Vita Sackville-West

And for all you budding writers out there, click here.

Images: http://gallery.hd.org/_c/art/_more2004/_more12/baubles-glass-and-wire-shiny-tinsel-blue-and-silver-star-for-top-of-tree-decorations-ornaments-JR.jpg.html; http://weheartit.com/entry/18871955;

http://laetificus.tumblr.com/page/8; http://weheartit.com/entry/9454974