HERE COMES SUMMER !

Youghal Harbour

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SEE YA SOON...!
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Off on holidays for a few days to give all dedicated ‘Dew’ readers a chance to recuperate and recharge for oncoming Blog onslaughts for the remainder of 2008! The destination is Youghal in County Cork ,the location for the classic film adaptation of 'Moby Dick' with Gregory Peck. Just in case the sun decides to slip away again (it has made a comeback of sorts over the last week!) I have packed a copy of Melville's book and I'm currently rummaging to locate the DVD…just in case.Unless I find myself housebound in an Internet café as distinct from sprawled on a golden beach, this will be the last blog for about a week…so enjoy the respite…and remember…I will be back..(God willing) ~GOSh.~

HEAVENLY POST

Another letter taken from Carmel Reilleys

collection 'Dear God' where children from

all over the world write letters to their Creator.

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Dear God,

I’d like to see an angel but I never have.

I do believe in them though. My Aunt saw one in hospital after her crash. She left her body and saw herself with an angel touching her head.

Then she got better and woke up. She says that the angel saved her.
I hope that one day I meet an angel, though I hope I don’t have a car crash.

Love,

Charles

'SURE OF A BED...'

' Old Woman with a Shawl and a

Walking-Stick' by Vincent

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This is a poem I remember learning at school. It tells the story of an old travelling woman who wishes for her own little house where she can spend her remaining days sheltered from the wind and rain. This piece is also a favourite of my Aunt Bridie who can recite it from memory at the drop of a hat at any social gathering, so this is dedicated to her…GOSH.

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THE OLD WOMAN

OF THE ROADS

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O, to have a little house!

To own the hearth and stool and all!

The heaped up sods against the fire,

The pile of turf against the wall!

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To have a clock with weights and chains

And pendulum swinging up and down!

A dresser filled with shining delph,

Speckled and white and blue and brown!

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I could be busy all the day

Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor,

And fixing on their shelf again

My white and blue and speckled store!

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I could be quiet there at night

Beside the fire and by myself,

Sure of a bed and loth to leave

The ticking clock and the shining delph!

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Och! but I'm weary of mist and dark,

And roads where there's never a house nor bush,

And tired I am of bog and road,

And the crying wind and the lonesome hush!

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And I am praying to God on high,

And I am praying Him night and day,

For a little house - a house of my own

Out of the wind's and the rain's way.

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Padraic Colum

THE LAST WORD

PHILOSOPHICAL DARING

A student taking a philosophy class had a single question on his final: "What is courage?"
The student wrote: "This", signed it, and turned it in.

GLORY UNVEILED

The Holy Spirit coming upon Jesus

at His baptism in the Jordan river.

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THE DEW FROM HEAVEN

Harmony is as refreshing as the dew from Mount Hermon that falls on the mountains of Zion.And there the Lord has pronounced his blessing,even life everlasting…(1)
So Israel conquered the entire area from Aroer at the edge of the Arnon Gorge all the way to Mount Sion, also called Mount Hermon.. ..(2)
Let my teaching fall on you like rain;let my speech settle like dew.Let my words fall like rain on tender grass,like gentle showers on young plants…(3)
I will be to Israel like a refreshing dew from heaven.Israel will blossom like the lily;it will send roots deep into the soil like the cedars in Lebanon…(4)
The rain and snow come down from the heavens and stay on the ground to water the earth.They cause the grain to grow,producing seed for the farmer and bread for the hungry…(5)
So the Word became human and made his home among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the Father’s one and only Son…(6)
For he is sent by God. He speaks God’s words, for God gives him the Spirit without limit.
From his abundance we have all received one gracious blessing after another…(7)
For harmony is as precious as the anointing oil that was poured over Aaron’s head,that ran down his beard and onto the border of his robe…(8)

(1)..Ps. 133:3;(2).. Deut. 4:48;(3).. Hos. 14:5;(4).. Deut. 32:2;(5)..Isa 55:10, 11;(6).. John 3:34;(7).. John 1:16;(8).. Ps. 133:2

BUSHPLANT

Amongst the pantheon of Irish bands that rock my world there is one Ennis based outfit who uniquely play there very own take on Irish music fused with influences from Dylan to Neil Young with a generous dollop of Native American chant thrown in for good measure...BUSHPLANT ! Fronted by Gerry Molloy the band have been playing for several years on the local Irish scene with occasional forays to overseas festivals and the release four cd's. Their music transcends category and their lyrics are often issue-driven on the subjects of ecology or the pointlessness of war, but the thing for me that raises the BUSH head and shoulders above the rest ,is the raw energy and spirit of their offerings. At their finest a live BUSHPLANT gig takes you to another place inside your head or deep deep down within your heart, that you return from all the better for having been there !The brief sample captured above features the virtuoso fiddling of Mary Custy and may give you a mere hint of the finesse and power of the BUSHPLANT experience... ~GOSh.~

JUST DESSERTS !

CAT HEAVEN

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Once upon a time, there was a cat who died. When she got to heaven, God asked her how she liked being on earth. She told the Lord that it was awful, she had to sleep in cold back alleys where there was no food and life was hard. God told her that he was sorry it had had turned out that way but here, in heaven, she would be happy and He would give her the most comfortable, warm pillow to sleep on. The cat laid down upon the pillow and was happy.
A few days later, about a dozen mice that came to heaven together and God asked them how they had liked earth. Earth was no better for them than it was the cat.
They explained to God that it was tough and exhausting and their feet were worn out from always running from cats and dogs and people. God felt bad for the mice and decided to give them roller skates.
One day God sees the cat again and asked her how she was liking heaven. She explained that it was absolutely wonderful. The pillow he gave her was the most comfortable place that she had ever slept on, but even better than the pillow were the meals on wheels !

THE GOOD EARTH

TO THE MAN

AFTER THE HARROW

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Now leave the check-reins slack,

The seed is flying far today -

The seed like stars against the black

Eternity of April clay.

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This seed is potent as the seed

Of knowledge in the Hebrew Book,

So drive your horses in the creed

Of God the Father as a stook.

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Forget the men on Brady's Hill.

Forget what Brady's boy may say.

For destiny will not fulfil

Unless you let the harrow play.

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Forget the worm's opinion too

Of hooves and pointed harrow-pins,

For you are driving your horses through

The mist where Genesis begins.

Patrick Kavanagh

WISDOM FROM THE EAST

Sadhu Sundar Singh

~1889-1929~

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SAYINGS OF THE SADHU.

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QUENCHING SPIRITUAL THIRST...

Christ is my saviour. He is my life. He is everything to me in heaven and earth. Once while traveling in a sandy region I was tired and thirsty. Standing on the top of a mound I looked for water. The sight of a lake at a distance brought joy to me, for now I hoped to quench my thirst. I walked toward it for a long time, but I could never reach it. Afterwards I found out it was a mirage, only a mere appearance of water caused by the refracted rays of the sun. In reality there was none. In a like manner I was moving about the world in search of the water of life. The things of this world -- wealth, position, honor and luxury -- looked like a lake by drinking of whose waters I hoped to quench my spiritual thirst. But I could never find a drop of water to quench the thirst of my heart. I was dying of thirst. When my spiritual eyes were opened I saw the rivers of living water flowing from his pierced side. I drank of it and was satisfied. Thirst was no more.

KNOWING GOD...

It is not by education or philosophy that we know Him. When I was in Australia, I was asked, 'What do you think of our civilization?' -- I said, 'Do you mean your education or your manners of society? In that case I say, you are trained animals, trained to do a certain thing in a certain way.' "Man, know thyself" -- and he who knows God knows himself. He is the truly civilized man in the image of God in which he was created..."
"Trying to understand spiritual truth through the intellect means increase of self. Men search for God and find Him unknowable... But: He is known through the heart, not through philosophy. The only way for us to understand the infinite God is by becoming infinite and that is impossible. He must become finite and He is so in Jesus.

CHRISTIANITY IN EUROPE...

I have been asked, 'Is Christianity a failure in Europe? I have seen some true servants of Christ in Europe.' Christ has not been a failure, but people have failed to understand Him. Those who hunger and thirst after righteousness know Him. He reveals Himself to such people -- those who spend time in prayer. We see our face sometimes not in a mirror but in a river, but when there are waves in the river we are not able to see ourselves. When our lives are full of hurry and bustle we fail to see ourselves, but in a quiet place we see ourselves and we shall be entirely changed -- a new life. Then we shall not be ashamed. We shall know Him by living with Him -- and we must live in Him through a life of prayer.

BREATHING THE SPIRIT...

St. Paul was such a practical man of God that he didn't tell others to do what he didn't try to do himself. He lived a life of prayer, he never ceased to pray. When on a long journey, he prayed. He knew the value of prayer from experience. He knew how important and essential it is. Just as breathing and circulation of the blood are functions of the body, so prayer is a function of the soul. The circulation of the blood will not continue forever, the beating of the heart will stop, but prayer will continue. Prayer is to breathe in God -- to breathe in the air of the Holy Spirit. Those who cannot breathe are dead. We breathe in our sleep, so , 'Pray without ceasing.' To live in Him we are to breathe in Him Who is our life. This is a warning from the Lord Himself. 'Hold fast thy crown.' All will be clear if we live a life of prayer. We must spend time in prayer -- then we shall know who our Saviour is. We receive blessings even through our mistakes. But our God works quietly. He never makes a noise...

Sadhu Sundar Singh

for more on the Sadhu see
THE SAFFRON ROBE

DOCTOR,DOCTOR!

TO THE POINT
A young woman went to her doctor complaining of pain.

"You have to help me, I hurt all over," said the woman.
"What do you mean, all over?" asked the doctor, "be a little more specific."
The woman touched her right knee with her index finger and yelled, "Ow, that hurts." Then she touched her left cheek and again yelled, "Ouch! That hurts, too."

Then she touched her right earlobe, "Ow, even THAT hurts", she cried.
The doctor checked her thoughtfully for a moment

and told her his diagnosis, "You have a broken finger."

IDOLBONES

Heralds of summer at the Hilton !

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...AND THE LIVIN'S EASY...

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Into the dismal dusk of an Irish summer day wafts the latin sounds of IdolBones playing in the bar of our local Hilton hotel. This jazz trio using their impeccable vocal harmonies unleashed into the sultry atmosphere of this particular July evening such luminous ditties as ‘That's Amore’ and ‘Volari’. Their percussive rhythms endued the air with the light and warmth of Italy , at least for this over-worked imagination ! Two guitarists and a drummer on congas, bongos and the occasional rattle of the cabasas fuse to produce a seamless swing-salsa mix of popular rock and Mediterranean songs charging the ether with a much need injection of summer cheer. Music from ‘Zorba the Greek’ and ‘Tequila’ stirred me almost to the point of dancing…almost, while they continued to work their musical magic on classics like ‘I'm A Believer’ and the irresistible ‘The Girl From Ipanema’. These are accomplished musicians who have performed at the Cork and Doonbeg Jazz festivals as well as at the Listowel Writers Week and are also available for weddings ! Now there’s a thought…leave it with me!

Gerard O'Shea

FAMILY SECRETS

WHAT DADDY DOES !

The Millers invited their new neighbours over to dinner. During dinner Mr.Miller was asked what he did for a living.
Eight years old Brian Miller jumped in and said, "Daddy is a fisherman!" To which Mrs.Miller replied, "Brian, why do say that. Your daddy is a stockbroker, not a fisherman."
"No mum. Every time we visit dad at work and he hangs up the phone he laughs, rubs his hands together and says 'I just caught another fish'."

ANOTHER IRISH SUMMER !

OUR SEASON OF DISCONTENT

The theory is that as of today (well yesterday to be precise) this island has entered that period that we optimistically refer to as ‘high summer’. The reality is very different, so far despite the teasing sunshine of May this year has delivered yet again an awful summer. We’ve had high winds, copious rainfalls, ominous darkening evenings and below normal temperatures resulting in the good citizens of this fair isle going about their business under a meteorological malaise! And to add to our national merriment the news headlines are boding dire economic times ahead. Our building boom which underpinned our mardi-gras Celtic Tiger has ground to a halt, fuel prices and bank interest rates are soaring as are the prices of basic food stuffs. All in all the Irish summer of 2008 could yet be remembered as our summer of discontent. To alleviate the gloom I’ve put together a potpourri of summer as we remember it and as we would wish it still to be. So for the next few minutes fold up the brolly find suitable shelter, pour yourself an ice cold drink and bask in the summer as God intended it, as you chew on these bright and cheerful reflections of the season that has so far escaped us ! ~ GOSh. ~

"July is the seventh month of the year according to the Gregorian calendar. It was the fifth month in the early calendar of the ancient Romans. The Romans called the month Quintilius, which means fifth. A Roman Senate renamed the month to Julius (July) in honour of Julius Caesar, who was born on 12 July. The Anglo-Saxon names for the month included Heymonath or Maed monath, referring respectively to haymaking and the flowering of meadows."

That beautiful season the Summer!

Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light;

and the landscape

Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.

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- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Answer July—

Where is the Bee—

Where is the Blush—

Where is the Hay?

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Ah, said July—

Where is the Seed—

Where is the Bud—

Where is the May—

Answer Thee—Me—

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- Emily Dickinson

"And pray, who are you?"

Said the Violet blue

To the Bee, with surprise,

At his wonderful size,

In her eyeglass of dew.

"I, madam," quoth he,

"Am a publican Bee,

Collecting the tax

Of honey and wax.

Have you nothing for me?"

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- John Bannister Tabb

"The sandy cat by the Farmer’s chair

Mews at his knee for dainty fare;

Old Rover in his moss-greened house

Mumbles a bone, and barks at a mouse.

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In the dewy fields the cattle lie

Chewing the cud ‘neath a fading sky;

Dobbin at manger pulls his hay:

Gone is another summer’s day."

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- Walter De La Mare

"Those were summers when the heart quivered up from the hot yellow gravel and pierced the plaited rushes of my wide-brimmed hats, summers almost without nights. For even then I so loved the dawn that my mother granted it to me as a reward. She used to agree to wake me at half past three and off I would go, an empty basket on each arm, towards the kitchen gardens that sheltered in the narrow bend of the river, in search of strawberries, black currants, and hairy goseberries." - Colette

"I have a total irreverence for anything connected with society except that which makes the roads safer, the beer stronger, the food cheaper and the old men and old women warmer in the winter and happier in the summer."

- Brendan Behan.

"Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability."- Sam Keen