Things That Happen (6)

I could go on through my twenties and my early thirties and talk about the things that happened, but for the most part, my spiritual journey simply became the accumulation of information, rather, the absorbing of it, like a body of a hibernating animal storing up fat and energy for the long winter, or a tree’s leaves absorbing the light and sunshine of the day for the cool evening.

Around 2002, after a few barren years of writing, and in the throes of a stumbling marriage, I began to reach for the pen again. Odd, because I was becoming very comfortable with my move from a desktop computer to a laptop, and I had committed myself to writing and completing my novel, Trees. I knew Trees had a deep personal and spiritual meaning to me, and that it was as much my own renewed journey, as it was the novel’s main character, Carlos. I struggled for a while to work directly on the laptop, and soon found myself scribbling away with a pen in journals and kid’s copy books I found around the house.

When it comes to writing fiction, the hand, the pen, the ink, the page, is the most honest and powerful mirror on the soul a writer can have. I had no idea what I was re-awakening, or what was about to reveal itself to me. But I’m glad what happened, happened. I would not be who I am today without it and the better for it.

I first came upon automatic writing while reading a lot of surrealist authors like Andre Breton when I was younger, though, I had never considered the practice as an actual method of creative output. (Hubert A Silaa, actually gives his own view on this here - something I happened to stumble on this evening while writing this piece) For a short time, I did experiment with ‘cut up writing’ after reading some essays on William S. Burroughs and other experimental novelists. I am also a little uncomfortable with such labels and the movements and connotations they seem to force upon the interpretation of a work which should always stand on its own two feet. How dare I associate my own experience of writing with a process of writing both maligned and celebrated?

In part seven of this series ‘Things That Happen’, I’d like to talk about my own experiences and what did happen.

Comments

WOKE: The Trope That Doesn't Work

WOKE - a word we now hear so often used in ridicule of others on social media commentary. But like so many tropes used against others, its user - by the mere act of using it - clearly demonstrates a complete lack of understanding of its true meaning and origin. If anything, its usage, now defines more the user, than the intended reciprocate. And its not a new word by any stretch of 21st Century meaning. It dates back more than 80 years but has only in the past few years reignited its common and increasing usage in everyday English language. ORIGIN - THE WOKE It originally dates back to a comment from an African American United Mine Workers official in 1940 (USA), stating: "Let me tell you buddy. Waking up is a damn sight harder than going to sleep, but we'll stay woke up longer." Think of all the times in exchanges online (primarily social media) that you've been described as 'woke' in a derogatory way. Ask yourselves, have you noticed how often those throwing...

The Case of Raonaid Murray

The body of Raonaid Murray (17) was found at Silchester Crescent, Glenageary, Dublin, less than 500 metres from her home on September 3rd, 1999. She was returning at approximately 11.20 pm from a night out at Scotts pub in Dun Laoghaire town centre. Her intention, made known to friends by mobile phone (using her friend's device at Scotts), was to return home, change, and head out to a local nightclub around midnight. She never got home. She was stabbed to death near her home (about 10 minutes away) while walking up a footpath with a one-and-a-half inch knife around midnight or shortly before. Forensics revealed that she was stabbed multiple times, but many initial wounds were not fatal or intrusive and would case death, as if punishment wounds. She staggered some 15 metres before the fatal stab wounds were delivered to her side and piercing vital organs. She bleed to death and about 20 minutes later and was discovered by her elder sister out with her friends earlier when they exite...

THE VANISHING OF MARY BOYLE

Mary Boyle (born 14 June 1970) was a six-year-old Irish girl who disappeared on the County Donegal-County Fermanagh border on 18th March 1977. To date, her disappearance is the longest missing child case in the Republic of Ireland. The investigation into her disappearance has been beset by allegations of political intervention and police incompetence. While arrests were made over many years, nobody has ever been charged in connection with her disappearance. Mary Boyle was last seen at 3:30 pm on 18 March 1977 near her grandparents' rural farm in Cashelard, near Ballyshannon, County Donegal. The family, including Mary's mother Ann, father Charlie, older brother Paddy, and twin sister Ann, had gone to Mary's maternal grandparents' house on St Patrick's Day from their home in Kincasslagh in The Rosses, further up the coast. They stayed at the grandparents home overnight into the day of her disappearance. In total, there were eleven people at the household gathering, si...

Mick Rooney | Journalist & Broadcaster

Search This Blog