Sunday, 12 July 2015
Saturday, 11 July 2015
Light clarity avocado salad in the morning
after all the terrible things I do how amazing it is
to find forgiveness and love, not even forgiveness
since what is done is done and forgiveness isn't love
and love is love nothing can ever go wrong
though things can get irritating boring and dispensable
(in the imagination) but not really for love
though a block away you feel distant the mere presence
changes everything like a chemical dropped on a paper
and all thoughts disappear in a strange quiet excitement
I am sure of nothing but this, intensified by breathing
(Frank O'Hara)
Friday, 10 July 2015
in the stars
at the party there were those sage souls
who swam along the bottom like those huge white
fish who live for hundreds of years but have no
fun. they are nearly blind and need the cold.
william was a stingray guarding his cave. only
those prepared for mortal battle came close to
him. closer to the surface the smaller fish
played, swimming in mixed patterns only a god
could decipher. they gossiped and fed and sparred
and consumed, and some no doubt even spawned.
it’s a life filled with agitation, thrills,
melodrama and twittery, but too soon it’s over.
and nothing’s revealed because it was never known.
who swam along the bottom like those huge white
fish who live for hundreds of years but have no
fun. they are nearly blind and need the cold.
william was a stingray guarding his cave. only
those prepared for mortal battle came close to
him. closer to the surface the smaller fish
played, swimming in mixed patterns only a god
could decipher. they gossiped and fed and sparred
and consumed, and some no doubt even spawned.
it’s a life filled with agitation, thrills,
melodrama and twittery, but too soon it’s over.
and nothing’s revealed because it was never known.
(The Lovely Arc of a Meteor in the Night Sky - James Tate)
Saturday, 4 July 2015
my arts based therapy practice features in the forthcoming edition of Network Ireland - Holistic Magazine, which will be hitting shops and letterboxes next week! It's packed with great articles on mindful eating, the therapeutic potential of creative writing, non-violent communication, starting new relationships, dealing with grief, why we should spend more time in the dark and lots more!! If you'd like to subscribe and have this issue posted out to you then sign up at http://networkmagazine.ie/subscriptions
(via Network Ireland)
(via Network Ireland)
Monday, 29 June 2015
National Flash Fiction Day 2015
Celebrating National Flash Fiction Day with Big Smoke Writing Factory at Arthur's, Dublin
Tuesday, 23 June 2015
Near the end of his life Graves met a Sufi mystic, who told him about another goddess, a Black Goddess. Mother Night, the Greeks called her. this Black Goddess existed beyond the White. instead of desire and destruction, she represented wisdom and love - not romantic love, but real love, as you might say, reciprocating, enduring love. of those who devoted their lives to the White Goddess, and this endless cycle of ravagement and restoration, a very few, if they managed to survive it, would eventually pass through her to the Black Goddess.
Paul Murray, Skippy Dies
Paul Murray, Skippy Dies
Monday, 22 June 2015
My work in arts-based therapy features in the next edition of Network Magazine in which I am talking about the value of the creative arts in occasioning change.
Tuesday, 16 June 2015
Ghosts of the Camino (500 word story)
Gripped by fever, she fought her way up the steep hill towards Finisterre. God give me strength, please.
Ellen had been walking for six weeks and was no longer sure why she’d come or what had motivated her to abandon her daily comforts to hike across Northern Spain. Nothing made sense. Apart from a feeling she’d lived it all before.
Earlier in her journey, she’d met an old priest at a church in Pamplona. Story had it that he’d stand at the door each morning blessing the passing pilgrims.
‘Why do people do it, padre? Why do they put themselves through this physical and mental torture?’
‘It’s different for everyone, is it not? You’ve heard stories of great loss, no doubt and of families reuniting on the Camino, people finding the answers they sought. But there is one thing I’ve learnt and seen. For some, a moment arrives along the way when the past, present and future seem to converge. It is in this moment that the pilgrim is forever changed.’ He pressed a scallop shell into her hand. ‘I hope you will find it.’
That had been a month ago. So far, the journey had taken her across the Pyrenees, through the Basque country, along the path of bull runs, convents and vineyards. She’d trudged across the dusty Meseta, prayed at sacred sites, had her feet washed by the monks of San Nicolas, all in search of that illusive moment.
It was nearing the end. She’d come down with a fever two days before and restless nights had been filled with worry about diminishing funds and a fear of what awaited her back home.
Ellen spotted an outline on the horizon. Blinking, she watched a girl in a pink tutu and straw hat disappear over the hill. Battling dizziness, Ellen pushed onwards before collapsing at the summit.
A wet cloth stung her face. ‘Hello darling,’ Sophie greeted her. ‘You shouldn’t be walking today.’ Ellen watched this transgender apparition kneel over her, hat shielding the sun. Sophie seemed ageless, her long thin fingers wringing out a towel. ‘Sometimes we need to rest before we can start again.’
‘I’ve got to be home soon…’
‘The Camino will look after you,’ Sophie whispered. ‘It blesses us with opportunities to start again. Before the Camino, I was a sixty three year old man, working as a sculptor, selling my art, struggling to survive. Now, each day, I am growing more into the girl whose spirit has found her home.’
Sophie rested the towel on Ellen’s head as she fell into a deep torpor.
She woke to the sounds of trolleys and distant voices. Squinting, Ellen looked around the bare white room before spotting the book at her bedside - Ghosts of the Camino by Padre Diego.
With shaking hands, she opened the card...
With shaking hands, she opened the card...
A gift for your journey. Get well soon. Love Dad.
Ellen rested her eyes on the cover picture. There, standing outside his church in Pamplona, was the old padre.
The Beginning
(dedicated to my fellow peregrinos, Angela and Tiggy who showed me the path home)
Happy Bloomsday!
"…I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes."
Monday, 25 May 2015
Home
collaboration to music ~
HOME
HOME
Words on an epicure's tongue
that subtle bitter
lost on an audience handpicked from chorus lines
while I savored buoyant questions to the edge of your mind
knowing there will be no answers
in suburbs graveled white
that subtle bitter
lost on an audience handpicked from chorus lines
while I savored buoyant questions to the edge of your mind
knowing there will be no answers
in suburbs graveled white
but on this night
the universe is crawling
on skin soft with expectation
and I have untied silk rhymes
lifting the bluebird’s cleavage
you might as well have caged it
between your colored doubts
the universe is crawling
on skin soft with expectation
and I have untied silk rhymes
lifting the bluebird’s cleavage
you might as well have caged it
between your colored doubts
are you listening at this moment
or are you asleep spooning spines
bent where you have dotted
or are you asleep spooning spines
bent where you have dotted
all I ask is for hail in December
charting my hiding
sanding raised eyebrows
I will lie in your embrace
and deal with the aftertaste
at first crack of dawn
in absence of verse hygiene
graffiti clinging to your sunken chest
because the universe is crawling
on skin soft with expectation
and I am lost in a blizzard
that resembles your voice
charting my hiding
sanding raised eyebrows
I will lie in your embrace
and deal with the aftertaste
at first crack of dawn
in absence of verse hygiene
graffiti clinging to your sunken chest
because the universe is crawling
on skin soft with expectation
and I am lost in a blizzard
that resembles your voice
you see there is no one at home
and home is everywhere
in the vast distance
in memories' dead weight
in winter’s renewal act
in promise of my eyes
and in your empty palms
where I pressed my face
fearing my many names
but one I left on rooftops
and home is everywhere
in the vast distance
in memories' dead weight
in winter’s renewal act
in promise of my eyes
and in your empty palms
where I pressed my face
fearing my many names
but one I left on rooftops
Wednesday, 20 May 2015
Rumor Has It
Silva Zanoyan Merjanian is a widely published poet who grew up in Beirut, Lebanon. She moved to Geneva during the Lebanese Civil War after personally experiencing the devastation of her beloved country. She later settled in California to raise her two sons with her husband.
Eabha Rose Reads Silva's Poetry
Her poetry reflects a little of what she took with her from each city she lived in, the nostalgia for her roots, her Armenian heritage and a deep sense of humanity.
Silva's work is featured in anthologies and international poetry journals. Her first volume of poetry, Uncoil a Night, was released in 2013.
On April 24, 2015, Silva Zanoyan Merjanian was the guest of honor at 'Celebration of of Survival', which was held at Ohio State University to honor the survival and advancement of the Armenian culture despite the Armenian Genocide.
Eabha Rose Reads Silva's Poetry
Monday, 18 May 2015
'i like the dark part of the night, after midnight and before four-thirty, when it’s hollow, when ceilings are harder and farther away. then i can breathe, and can think while others are sleeping, in a way can stop time, can have it so - this has always been my dream - so that while everyone else is frozen, i can work busily about them, doing whatever it is that needs to be done, like the elves who make the shoes while children sleep.' (A Heartbreaking Story of Staggering Genius - D. Eggers)
Sunday, 17 May 2015
Preparing for Edition 5 ~ O Equador das Coisas: Convocação: Edição 5 do jornal O Equador das Coisa...
O Equador das Coisas: Convocação: Edição 5 do jornal O Equador das Coisa...: Edição 4 do Jornal de Literatura e Arte O EQUADOR DAS COISAS. O EQUADOR DAS COISAS, blog de literatura e arte em geral com mais de 7...
Seven Nova : Moment
'if I were to reach across the ocean, I would stand before you, naked, robed in light, a pillar of time, I would not speak, all meaning contained within a single gaze, the infinite reflection of two opposing mirrors.. silence, music, nature and embrace.' 7
Friday, 15 May 2015
What a wonderful festival trailer! We are counting down to Weimar for The Elephant's German debut!
Offizieller backup_festival Trailer 2015 from backup_festival on Vimeo.
Offizieller backup_festival Trailer 2015 from backup_festival on Vimeo.
Tuesday, 28 April 2015
Our short film will feature in next month's Backup Festival in Germany (27-31 May) and we'll be there to cheer The Elephant on!
Saturday, 4 April 2015
Wednesday, 25 March 2015
Friday, 20 March 2015
Wednesday, 18 March 2015
Silva Zanoyan Merjanian's second collection of poetry, Rumor is described by Philip Larea as 'a lush, full-bodied zinfandel infused throughout with the terroir of her Armenian heritage. These poems are deeply colored with currant and cherry, rich with tobacco and licorice, meant to be rolled around the tongue, and exhaled with a peppery finish.' (Philip Larea)
Silva Zanoyan Merjanian is a widely published poet who grew up in Beirut, Lebanon. She moved to Geneva during the Lebanese civil war after personally experiencing the devastation of her beloved country. She later settled in California to raise her two sons with her husband. Her poetry reflects a little of what she took with her from each city she lived in. The nostalgia for her roots, her Armenian heritage, her deep sense of humanity reduced and elevated at the same time in life’s events, permeate through her poems. Her work is featured in anthologies and international poetry journals. Actress/Producer Eabha Rose recently read four of her poems; Choices, Rooftop, Doves of Beirut and Suicide which gained international acclaim. Her first volume of poetry, Uncoil a Night, was released in 2013.
via http://coldriverpress.org/HTML/rumor.htm
Silva Zanoyan Merjanian is a widely published poet who grew up in Beirut, Lebanon. She moved to Geneva during the Lebanese civil war after personally experiencing the devastation of her beloved country. She later settled in California to raise her two sons with her husband. Her poetry reflects a little of what she took with her from each city she lived in. The nostalgia for her roots, her Armenian heritage, her deep sense of humanity reduced and elevated at the same time in life’s events, permeate through her poems. Her work is featured in anthologies and international poetry journals. Actress/Producer Eabha Rose recently read four of her poems; Choices, Rooftop, Doves of Beirut and Suicide which gained international acclaim. Her first volume of poetry, Uncoil a Night, was released in 2013.
via http://coldriverpress.org/HTML/rumor.htm
'when you write late at night
it's like a small fire
in a clearing, it's what
radiates and what can hurt
if you get too close to it.
it's why your silence is a kind of truth.
even when you speak to your best friend,
the one who'll never betray you,
you always leave out one thing;
a secret life is that important.'
it's like a small fire
in a clearing, it's what
radiates and what can hurt
if you get too close to it.
it's why your silence is a kind of truth.
even when you speak to your best friend,
the one who'll never betray you,
you always leave out one thing;
a secret life is that important.'
'A Secret Life' - Stephen Dunne
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| picture : Brooke Shaden |
Tuesday, 17 March 2015
Happy St Patrick's Day!
Our little poetry film, The Elephant is Contagious, featuring Alicja Ayres, Lute Al Raad, Ruth Lehane, Trea Breazeale, John Joyce, Eamonn Murphy and yours truly and directed by Simon O'Neill has been nominated for Awardeo TV's 'Video of the Week'. Please do give us a vote using the following link...Thank you for the support.
Monday, 16 March 2015
The Opening of Eyes
That day I saw beneath dark clouds,
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before,
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read.
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before,
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read.
It is the opening of eyes long closed.
It is the vision of far off things
seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years
of secret conversing,
speaking out loud in the clear air.
It is the vision of far off things
seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years
of secret conversing,
speaking out loud in the clear air.
It is Moses in the desert
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
as if to enter heaven
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
as if to enter heaven
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.
(David Whyte)
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| pic by Eabha (River Dawn path) |
Monday, 9 March 2015
Spring Fire
Using the 'Transitions' theme, we have been asked collect stories, pictures, paintings, photos and recordings of the last couple of years to compile and share to music as part of the audio visual backdrop to 'Spring in New York'. The race is on to sieve through the art box and create a new piece of work whereby each component becomes part of the tapestry.
A few years ago, I worked on a similar but smaller project for our Healing Arts Trust, and using the concept of threading together significant memories, created a patchwork quilt of paintings on silk, each square representing a particularly meaningful time in the individual's life.
painting in progress : Spring Fire
A few years ago, I worked on a similar but smaller project for our Healing Arts Trust, and using the concept of threading together significant memories, created a patchwork quilt of paintings on silk, each square representing a particularly meaningful time in the individual's life.
painting in progress : Spring Fire
are we there yet....?
Less than three weeks before returning to the best city in the world. With a plan to blend literary with spiritual, we will be sharing words at The Anonymous Literary Salon in Williamsburg, Brooklyn (the evening to be recorded by Black Watch Films) to a traditional Seder service in the city alongside family and friends. This time of year is always about transitions!
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| A painting inspired by Passover, Good Friday and Easter. It was painted starting on the first day of Passover and finished on Easter (Adam O Day) |
Wednesday, 4 February 2015
The Elephant is Contagious
Our short film, The Elephant is Contagious is a journey through subtle side-glances, restrained anger and deviousness to a discreetly executed act of revenge. Enjoy!
The Elephant is Contagious
The Elephant is Contagious
Wednesday, 28 January 2015
Monday, 26 January 2015
being Cut Up!
Images from Cup Up! Ireland launch at Ranelagh Arts, Dublin
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| Lute al Raad, Eabha Rose and Alicja Ayres photo : Ranelagh Arts |
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| setting up - Eabha Rose and Malcom Kelly photo : Robbie Ambrose |
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| Michael Mc Aloran, Eabha Rose and Joe Ambrose with one of attendees Joe's t-shirt the splendid work of Billy Chainsaw - Billy Houlston Photo : Robbie Ambrose |
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| Joe Ambrose alongside member of Arts team and Eabha Rose photo : Lute al Raad |
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| Eabha Rose photo : Lute al Raad |
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| Eabha Rose, Joe Ambrose and Daniel Figgis chatting with some of the attendees photo : Robbie Ambrose |
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| photo : Robbie Ambrose |
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| Eabha Rose photo : Robbie Ambrose  |
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| Lute al Raad, Eabha Rose and Alicja Ayres photo : Ranelagh Arts  |
Thursday, 22 January 2015
va vers toi-même
Reminiscing! What memories this stirs...I havent finished the video - but this is my shared Camino journey from St Jean-Pied-de-Port through Basque and the Maseta captured as much as I can through music and images. We made it all the way to Muxia in Galicia, and life has take on new dimensions since returning home. I am so thankful to The Universe for the wonderful people I met on The Way (forever friends) and for the little signs that lit the path towards home. I lost my camera on the last leg of the journey and lost pictures of the journey into Santiago de Compostela but the final stretch is vivid in my mind and heart. I especially remember the little words frequently written on stone by a French peregrino : va vers toi-même (go towards yourself).
Monday, 12 January 2015
Happy New Year
The Elephant is Contagious
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