Wrapping up my Blog
Where do I begin to begin to end? Why does it seem so difficult? Is it because I have been writing here on Red Room, for one long year now, on a daily basis, sometimes twice a day, whenever the fancy took me to jot down the moments that passed at Windsong, with my boys, the dogs, the garden,the hubby, the coffee pot, the clothes line, the grief, the regret, the longings, the sadness, the joys, the weedings, the first snowdrop, the last daffodil, the ageing neighbours, the animal sanctuary, the whims and dreams of a homemaker, the aspirations of a writer, the all too endless searchings for answers, the walks in the bog, the gorse, the heather, the rain, the damn mist, the wine, the woodstove, the sumac tree, the ash tree, falling leaves, the smell of garlic, turmeric, the ocean, the dreams, the longings, the lost, the cobwebs, the spiders, the snails, the patio umbrella, my mother, the meals cooked, the table weighed down with good food, cows, the candle light, the birthdays, the sorrows, the laughs and the tears and the words on etched in wood and the skies brilliant and sometimes doom filled and the rainbows and the dragonflys and the rest of the world that makes up my world.
And Red Room had me write it all down. It was always there. It always said Welcome Mary! and the addiction was unrelenting. In the space of a year I wrote thousands and thousands of words and received comment after comment. My dashboard showed a healthy readership. But I wasn't in it for the dashboard. I was in it to connect with fellow writers. To write my soul out. To banish it out into the ether, into places that I otherwise could not reach. I made great friends. I wished distance was not such a problem but in a way it was not because I often held conversations with fellow writers all over the globe without even leaving my kitchen! It is time now to move on. I have to. I could be writing blogs for the rest of my life and really, that's my problem. I have to address other matters. Other parts of me that remain caught in a web that has held on to me for way too long.
To all my friends out there I want to say thank you. Thank you for always reading me and encouraging the writing spirit and for welcoming my words, no matter how silly they were, into your hearts. I learned so much from reading you and felt gratified to know that there were people like you out there in this world, going about, being sensitive souls, feeling the life and writing about it and always being kind and generous in spirit. Wishing you all the best in your work, in your world and in your dreams. I hope I do not sound dramatic or any such thing but this has been a fabulous experience and I have gathered so much, so many insights have come to me because of this avenue, so many cul de sacs have opened up and because of that my path seems clear and unobstructed. I forge on, the web has to be broken. m
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Jennifer Gibbons says:
Mary! Say it's not so!
We will miss you so much. Could you just blog once a month? Once a week?
Jennifer Gibbons,
Red Room
Susan Brown says:
Oh Mary, we are going to
Oh Mary, we are going to miss you. I hope your departure is because there are so many good things going on in your life that there just isn't time for this one, and that you'll stop by if and when you get a minute. Friendship doesn't end just because communication goes on hiatus.
Susan
Heather Koelle says:
I,for one,will hate to see you go!
Mary,I have enjoyed your writings very much.You seemed to draw me more than anyone on the blog,but I understand when the winds of change call you must heed them.I am a new member,only about a month now,and writing here has been very therapeutic for me in helping me grieve over a loss.It has also let me see how mushc more talented writers do it,and I love learning from them.Good luck to you and Godspeed!
Heather Koelle
Catherine Nagle says:
Windsong
Tennyson’s words, I think “The shell must break before the bird can fly.”
Dear Mary,
May you be blessed wherever the Windsong takes you. We will be waiting here to read what you've found through your new eyes and heart.
Love and Best Wishes to You! Thank you for all your blogs!
(I truly didn't know how you were doing it in the first place)
Truly,
Catherine Nagle
Ryoma Collia-Suzuki says:
Good luck!
May good luck and good fortune travel with you everywhere, Mary.
Thank you for all of your wonderful blogs and responses. You are truly amazing. We will miss you here. I have sent a message to you too, from Gina and myself. Wishing you all the best!
Ryoma and Gina
david fingerman says:
m of course i'm going to
m
of course i'm going to miss you. best to you wherever your path takes you.
(i sent you an email) ; )
d
Lynn Henriksen says:
Gosh, Mary, that was a
Gosh, Mary, that was a shocker to read your last post. I've been busy with one event after another, slowed down today to catch up with you, and well, you said it all.
I'm so glad we made the great connection that we made. I feel like I have a true friend in Ireland now.
I know you'll keep up your terrific writing - how could you not? I musts be like breathing to you!
Luciana Lhullier says:
Best of luck, dear Mares!
Best of luck, dear Mares! Life is impermanence, as Kunzang would say :-)When it´s time to let it go, let go! We´ll keep in touch...
Love,
Lu
Rebbecca Hill says:
Good for you, Mary, for
Good for you, Mary, for having the courage to follow through on what feels right for you at this point in your life. It's good to hear there is clarity for you. All the best to you.
Sue Glasco says:
Children leave the nest...
And I suppose writers must also. But we will miss you. My first instinct was to say what Jennifer Gibbons said--write once a month or at least an annual Christmas or New Year's letter so we can know about your adventures, your boys, Missy, and the garden. If you can, come home once in awhile. Bring your new friends along, use the laundry room and we will visit as you fold clothes, and we'll serve you a home-cooked meal in the Red Room kitchen. Yet if you can't make it, we understand. We haven't really lost you. Nothing is temporary. That which seems fleeting is really continuity into eternity. You are a part of each of us now, Mary P. That cannot be ended or retracted. We thank you for the rabbit casserole, the warming stews, the flowers, the cuckoo, and your wholesome Irish potatoes. And especially the falling leaf.
Raymond Mallette says:
Thank you Mary!
Thank you for being an inspiration to me. Your words will be missed, but in the short time I have been a part of the redroom, I have taken so much from your writings. I wish you well. Take care, be healthy, and may you achieve all that you wish for.
Raymond
Kunzang Drolma says:
ahhh
what to say. your presence has been like a fixture, the familiar clock on the wall whose tick measures time, and then - suddenly - silence. somewhere you would appear as I scrolled, walking the street in your summertime hat or at your computer relaxed in the lounge. you were there even when you were not. or I was not. and now there will be an absence of something that seemed certain. But as Lu said I would say, nothing is permanent :). There is shadow and light in a flickering interplay. We may feel sure about this or that, everything and nothing, but sure we never can be. I will miss you.
Ellen R. Sheeley says:
Will look for you on the
Will look for you on the bookstore shelves, Mares. All of us will be able to say we knew you when. . .
jitu rajgor says:
Hey Amber lady, you just
Hey Amber lady, you just can't do this.
Farzana Versey says:
Let me tell you about the
Let me tell you about the times I wanted to get angry with you...when you talked about cooking like a dream. But most times, Mary, I was with you...when you talked about the lovely days, the skies, the seas, the hunger for something, for nothing...I know you will be doing something that you enjoy, but unless it really comes in the way any sort of writing can co-exist with anything.
Thank you for being a part of my life. Yes, life.
And this is not a full stop; it is a comma...can't you tell your punctuation marks?
Did you sound dramatic? Hmm...not enough yet, so we await more...
~F
jitu rajgor says:
Yes
Yes,
'Any sort of writing can co-exist with anything'.
Jodi Thompson says:
Mares, Thank you for all
Mares,
Thank you for all your words and heart. I'll miss you. Best of luck.
Jodi
Mary Wilkinson says:
My goodness, I am completely
My goodness, I am completely overwhelmed by all your good wishes and kindness and thoughts. And love. I thank you with all my heart. I will stay in touch - love and friendship, peace and joy, Mary/Mares
jitu rajgor says:
Thank you Mary, you are so
Thank you Mary, you are so loving and kind too.
Sumathi Mohan says:
Mary Mary Quite Contrary,
Mary Mary Quite Contrary, How will your garden grow?
With no silver bells and cockle shells and Redroom buddies all in a row?!
Sweet Mary as usual I do hope I am not the last to walk in to bid you farewell! As said, When the heart is full words are few and I hate to let go!
But why do you have to go? Why should we be deprived of you?
We sought your time online only! We never heard your voice, never ate your cookies, never smelt the aroma of the mushrooms cooking. Yet, we lived in your world, walked your shores, touched the clothes hanging by your clothes line and felt your pangs when you broke your neck.
Why has the rainbow vanished now? Is it for a brighter morrow? When will we read you again Mary?
Mary Wilkinson says:
Ah Sumathi the poet! Alas
Ah Sumathi the poet! Alas dear Sumathi I am indeed contrary...I walked the streets of NY in the rain and bought polka dot Wellies, I made Pumpkin Pie last night from Roasted pumpkin, the Sumac Tree is bare, the sky is a rare washed out blue, the dogs follow me everywhere, there are no flowers left in the garden apart from one brave egg yolk yellow plant that will die soon too...words fly in and out of me constantly and I have wrapped up my life and sent it off in a long brown envelope. I was surprised at how heavy it was, how heavy words can be at times. M
Sumathi Mohan says:
The return of the envelope!
So you are in New York!
There can be no good bye to writing Mary, that is the truth; because at times it becomes a let out and other times it is our life's breath. Words that haunt us constantly, emotions that surges and brims, hurts the eyes and the salt touches the lips and the fingers fly to find its vent. You may say to the world you wrapped up but can you in real? Come back for this is where you belong and we await you with open arms!
Sumi
Sumathi Mohan says:
A small token to writing!
A knock at the door
Thirty years from now, I would still sit on a sofa,
In front of a television set sipping a cup of
hot coffee musing over the past.
Outside the inconsistent rain would pour out its heart
bringing in the pain and pleasure of living, to creatures,
varied that thrive together and apart.
The doorbell rings its musical jingle, I would wander
off to the door to bring the guest in, the phone mourns
and halts to a beep, outside I find on one. I return to my
chair to my world of dreams!
On the television, I watch a guest walk in with a warm smile,He speaks...And I presume to me.
Well you didn’t expect me did you?’ ‘No’ I say,
‘But I’m glad you’ve come. He says,
‘You have grown wise over the years, still elegant!’
‘Years have taken their toll though, yet I’m what I’ve been,’ says I looking inquiringly into his strange eyes.
‘Was life harsh?’ his lighted cigar brightens the dim light,
I focus my thoughts to place the stranger,
who has walked into my life in the late of night.
‘Coffee?’ I inquire, ‘yes please, sugar two cubes.’
I shuffle back with tray in hand while the cat settles in my
armchair and I settle on the sofa,
Still wondering who the stranger is? I continue..
‘Well, life has been what it ought to be,
With few ups and many downs,
Yet I pulled through, at times in company
and many a times alone.’
‘Well how have you been?’ I ask him.
‘Oh I walked the globe, met people who refused to let go,
met life in its heinous forms, sensed their pain
that made me realize what life was and is to them.’
‘Ah pain! It is an addiction, pleasure the perfection, both
wound together like snakes in mating season’
I become poetical in my expression.
‘Are these the only ingredients of life.
What about other feelings?’He asks,
‘love, lust, vengeance, ambition, success, loneliness,
Haven’t they played a part in your life?’
Once again I am lost in thought, the open book of my life
turns its own pages, The coffee gets cold, the cat settles on my lap,
There is a Power shut down! Damn it! I curse!
I wade through the dust for a candle to light.
I return with a light for the stranger in the night,
Mister? I call out.. No answer. Has he left? Was I dreaming?
The silence greets me in the warmth of the dim light.
I talk alone in the dimness, trying to focus on the dieing candle light.
‘Well the feelings were part of my life,
If I hadn’t sensed them, I wouldn’t have lived a life.
They helped me to assume, presume, realize the depths of human emotions,the intensity of love, the ugliness of hate, the euphoria of success, the purity of truth, the nonsense of revenge, ethics in its hollowness, beauty in its true form, the elegance of simplicity,All have played their part well.’
The night bird sings its plaints, a frog croaks under the canopy of mushrooms, the crickets pierced the stillness of the night,
‘Stranger would you halt for the night?’ I expect him to be around.
I hear, now a real knock, a loud knock; I answer the door,
The stranger stands outside dripping wet in half moon light
‘The rain has stopped, the night is soft,
Will you come with me before the wake of light?’
I turn around to look at the sleeping cat, the closed book of my life,the cold coffee, the embers in the grate, the pen in its holder.
‘Yes, my work is done; I have lived my life,
Let me brush my hair before I leave with you tonight!’
Sumathi Mohan
7th November, 2009
We will continue to write Mary till the pen touches its holder!
Mary Wilkinson says:
Lovely Sumathi. Simply
Lovely Sumathi. Simply lovely.