margherita-muller.co.uk

Having visited both – but still faithful to my beloved Skye, I travelled and stayed in some wonderful places. Donegal in June, Skye and Lewis in July.

I am currently in Pabail Iarach, near Point – a place where I sleep most deeply. My quality of sleep and health has improved tenfold.

In Skye I had a great time with a lot of like-minded people I had never met before in my life. We drank (water), we sang, we talked a lot and we came up with some pretty wild ideas, including building a set of tunnels and bridges between Ireland and Scotland – perhaps also trying to re-unite the two languages now known as Scots Gaelic and Irish. Then at night I would dream of bringing Welsh, Breton and Galician into it. There is no doubt to my usually worried mind that music is necessary to our well-being.

I did some sketches/watercolours. Not many, but with love.

I hope to be able to post more of my adventures, including my frequent walks to Hogganfield and Kelvingrove, due to work constraints. But thanks to my recent full time job, I can now have proper holidays too. It was long overdue, and although my health isn’t perfect, it’s good enough so far. My work colleague and  friend gave me a CD that is perfect for this trip.

I am very grateful to be alive in this wonderful landscape. Yesterday, for the first time, I went to see Traigh Mor in North Tolsta, and after a long walk in the water – I sat by a friend’s grave – Donnie Graham – sweet mad man, bard, brother. Despite all the talk that once you’re dead you’re dead, I could not help feeling happy for him, being buried facing the beach that he loved so much.

We ordinary people can see neither our own eyelashes, which are so close, nor the heavens in the distance.

Likewise, we do not see that the Buddha exists in our own hearts.

If sailor tales to sailor tunes,
Storm and adventure, heat and cold

If schooners, islands, and maroons,
And buccaneers, and buried gold

And all the old romance, retold
Exactly in the ancient way…

B0AT

Why now blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark!

The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.

Swim as fast as you can.

Full poem here:

https://allpoetry.com/And-this-I-dreamt,-and-this-I-dream

Sleep

Rita Banerjee
What does it mean to be so still?
to glide along the ocean floor

like some black-tongued electric eel,
to burn through marbled gold and green

of oceanic things like some
compact mass deforming space, time,

a void within voids, and then?
It is easier to imagine amphibian,

to know that blood, too, can change
its temperament as quickly as

salamanders change skin, as quickly as
eyes of newt and tongues of dog become

incantations, enchantments of art
and life just as an animal submerged

under water becomes unknown,
just as respirations become primitive

and breaths and motions cease
as a lone fish in a dark pond

arrives as an object of thought
and becomes stone.

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