My Grandparents are the inspiration for Birdie’s parents and I owe it to them to tell this story. My Grandmother came from Kulm North Dakota. When she was 6 months old, her family moved to Leader Saskatchewan. From there to North Battleford Residential School. My Grandfather came from Scotland at age 12, as a victim of the "Clearances". They are my inspiration for Birdie's parents in THROWAWAYS.
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Lover of Literature, Explorer of Life, Sustainer of Earth, Searcher for truth, aficionado of Nuances. Mallory Eaglewood brings to her work a jam-packed background of experiences. She’s had a career as a literature teacher (ret.), and a lifelong interest in First Nations art and history. There was a stint as an officer in the Canadian Military, a meditation retreat in a Buddhist Abbey and she was an itinerant worker in Scotland, England and Greece. Along the way, she has been scuba diving in the South Pacific, hitch-hiking in Syria and communing with the Loch Ness Monster. Now a Grandmother of three, she still has no intention of slowing down. All of these infuse her poetry with a heart-felt, honest exploration of what it is to be human.
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When I was of 65, I dispossessed my life of the bonds of stability. Gone to charity went all my furniture, dishes, keepsakes, photos, books (of which I had amassed over 3,000) sheets, pillows – the lot. Well, I kept my art and writing and a small suitcase full of clothes. I was free. Amazed again at how easily all that stuff had crept so unobtrusively back into my life. Free in the sense that I had severed ties of those possessions that entrap, enslave, convince us of their need, and derail us from living a life open to us. And with the bells of excitement and adventure ringing compellingly in my heart and mind, I bought a one-way ticket to Unst (northern most island of the Shetland Islands of Scotland). A place I’d never been and where I knew no one.
When at last the urge to renunciate ‘things’ exploded on my ‘wishful’ surface, the process of ‘doing’ was actually very short and easy. No dilly-dallying. Truck load after truck load was off to the charity shops without a whimper. I never even noticed the rocks of fear, caution, inability or remorse, tumbling off the path before me. I was running. Yes. In a sense I was running away - from malaise, from not-getting-around-to-it, from leaving dreams on the shelf, from a procrastination born of laziness. However, I was and still am an intensely curious person.
Yes, I had headed into the unknown before; many years before. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. What remains of those experiences – my friend and I alone in the Syrian desert night with the man with a gun, the hurricane that tormented our 36ft ketch between Tonga and New Zealand, the hospitality of Irene and Tony, the kindness of Roari, two sharks, off Bali, coming over to see if what I was lunch, two sons that care for me deeply, a cormorant poking his bill at my facemask 30ft below the Tahitian sea, as if to inquire 'how are you'. Those times in the past were all vital to the making of the woman I am today. Rest and be thankful, I said. Then I opened my eyes one day to the fact that, for me in my situation, there was no earthly reason not to go it again.
So, who is this woman? I’m now one who recognizes a life time of education. The learning of lessons. The lessons of the six virtues – kindness, compassion, love, forgiveness, generosity and thankfulness. I've come to trust that I can jump into the deep end; and grasp, experience, touch, a life that is exciting, informative, blessed, titillating. My friends, my family, my acquiesces are not forgotten. Many will be here with me well into the future. I’m grateful for it all. These are my possessions. They are in my bones.
I’m appreciative of the magnificent and miraculous ballad and it’s nice to know that the fat lady hasn’t sung yet.
to edit.
When at last the urge to renunciate ‘things’ exploded on my ‘wishful’ surface, the process of ‘doing’ was actually very short and easy. No dilly-dallying. Truck load after truck load was off to the charity shops without a whimper. I never even noticed the rocks of fear, caution, inability or remorse, tumbling off the path before me. I was running. Yes. In a sense I was running away - from malaise, from not-getting-around-to-it, from leaving dreams on the shelf, from a procrastination born of laziness. However, I was and still am an intensely curious person.
Yes, I had headed into the unknown before; many years before. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. What remains of those experiences – my friend and I alone in the Syrian desert night with the man with a gun, the hurricane that tormented our 36ft ketch between Tonga and New Zealand, the hospitality of Irene and Tony, the kindness of Roari, two sharks, off Bali, coming over to see if what I was lunch, two sons that care for me deeply, a cormorant poking his bill at my facemask 30ft below the Tahitian sea, as if to inquire 'how are you'. Those times in the past were all vital to the making of the woman I am today. Rest and be thankful, I said. Then I opened my eyes one day to the fact that, for me in my situation, there was no earthly reason not to go it again.
So, who is this woman? I’m now one who recognizes a life time of education. The learning of lessons. The lessons of the six virtues – kindness, compassion, love, forgiveness, generosity and thankfulness. I've come to trust that I can jump into the deep end; and grasp, experience, touch, a life that is exciting, informative, blessed, titillating. My friends, my family, my acquiesces are not forgotten. Many will be here with me well into the future. I’m grateful for it all. These are my possessions. They are in my bones.
I’m appreciative of the magnificent and miraculous ballad and it’s nice to know that the fat lady hasn’t sung yet.
to edit.