I had never heard the phrase before and then (how does this happen?) I came across it again within twenty-four hours. ‘Happiness writes white,’ he said. ‘When I am content, I have no inspiration. Ease causes the muse to fly.’ I didn’t want to believe it, that one needs to be tortured in order to … Continue reading Happiness Writes White
‘But it’s the truth. Isn’t the truth a good thing?’ A friend had asked for my input about a tricky situation, a conflict with someone else that was escalating via electronic messages. When I told them I thought their response was too much, that it should be pared back, cooled down, they – quite rightly … Continue reading Holding Back
Do you ever come across a line of text that is as ripe and full as a fig and if you don't stop and eat it there and then you’ll forget what it is saying to you? I’m talking about words that you must read again, re-view, go back over slowly so that the feeling … Continue reading Honest Attention to the Particular
I went to see the Tuner Prize shortlist (the annual award for visual artists) in 2013, the year the exhibition was in Derry. At one of the installations I was given £1 for engaging in a conversation about what constitutes ‘progress’. The payment was part of the art. Really?! Although I claimed my pound, I remained sceptical. I … Continue reading Endless Art
Donal Ryan is an author from Tipperary with an accent like a beautifully played reel on the fiddle and an engaging smile that suggests he is not entirely sure of anything, but that he’s content not knowing. I heard him speak in County Carlow this weekend. His candour was endearing. He told us that every act … Continue reading I Made You Up
One of life’s biggest challenges is that of speaking up. I’m not talking about making a presentation at work, delivering a wedding speech or any of those other goose-bump inducing public-facing talks. I mean saying what needs to be said in the moment, within a small group, or maybe even one on one. In other … Continue reading Polite Conversation
The world seems like a precarious place right now. It feels like we could jump very quickly from slinging mud to slinging missiles. Or, I should say, more missiles by more people, and for a very confusing array of reasons. It is hard to know where the truth lies; a sentence that can deliberately be … Continue reading Repeating Cycles
My Edinburgh Press 