This post is supposed to be the first in a series o bilingual posts (English and Portuguese).
I really hope my friends cannot find new excuses to be silent.
So, please, leave a comment. It will make a certain Aline VERY HAPPY!
MY FRIENDS ARE THE LEAVES OF MY TREE!
There are people who make us happy simply because they crossed our path.
Some travel by our side, watching many moons passing by, but others only are only seen now and then. All of them call friend.
There are several types of friends. Perhaps each leaf on a tree can be one of them.
The first bud is the friend- father and mother. They show us what life is like.
Then comes the friend- brother, with whom we share our space for him to flourish as we do.
But fate has other friends in store for us, who we did not know were going to cross our path. Many of these are designated best friends.
They are sincere, true. We know when they’re not well, they know what makes us happy …
Sometimes one of these friends lights a sparkle in our heart and is then called a boyfriend. They make our eyes shine, bring music to our lips, leaping to our feet, but there are also those friends for a while, maybe during a vacation, or even a day or an hour. These tend to put smiles on our face, so long as we’re around.
Speaking distance, we can not forget the distant friends, who are on the tips of branches, but when the wind blows, they appear again among the leaves.
Time passes, the summer is gone, autumn is approaching, and we lose some of our leaves. Some are born in another summer and others remain for many seasons.
But what makes us happy is that we can feel they are around…somehow, enriching the roots of our tree
Memories of wonderful times.
Wishing you…. leaf from my tree, Peace, Health, Love, Success, Prosperity and more …
Today and always .. . Simply because: Each person in our life is unique. They always leave a bit of themselves and take a little of us. And this is the greatest proof that two souls do not meet by chance.
For those curious about my NaNoWriMo’09 production, here it is…I hope you like it!
Aline Martins
Synopsis: Where do dreams go?
Jenny is still upset about loosing the best storyteller she ever met, her grandma.
To make things even more difficult, they are moving to her Grandma’s old house, at least -she thinks – she might find someone to tell her grandma’s stories.
But she has no idea what kind of friends are waiting for her in a house where the doors are as huge as giants and the rooms always lead to magical places.
And for my curious friends!
Excerpt
When she got the key, she looked around, and the only thing she thought about was picking inside the room once more. “One more time” she thought “just one more time”.
And she opened the door.
“Granny?” Jenny murmured, taking in shallow grasps of the cold air.
“Do you want to play with Granny?” A said a soft voice with glee.
Jenny stepped inside the room, closing the door slowly at her back. “I won’t take long, and nothing can happen” she thought.
Suddenly, other voices joined the first one, all of them whispering at the same time,
“Jenny, we know you are here, we know you are here”.
“Who are you?” asked Jenny choking, this couldn’t be a joke.
“Jenny, my darling” said a very familiar voice.
“Granny?” asked Jenny.
“Did you come to hear new stories Jenny?” the other voices joined what seemed to be her grandmother’s voice.
Terrified, she tried to run away, but she tripped over something and fell to her knees.
“You’ll never get out of here Jenny,” said one of the voices.
“This is where they send you when they don’t need you anymore” another voice said.
“You don’t want us anymore Jenny, you put us here to forget us, but we want you”, they said in unison.
Jenny thought she could feel cold hands around her wrists, holding her, while she could hear her granny’s voice behind all the others, and it said “be careful, my dear, you should not enter the fairyland without following the instructions”.
The other voices were still around her saying “We want to play, we want to play”.
“Granny?” Jenny shook all over trying to get rid of the cold and the fear that was making her choke as if all the objects in the room had their hands and fingers on her.
But, just when Jenny became convinced life was over, and there was nothing else she could do, a whirlwind escalated and suddenly disappeared.
Jenny was confused, she could not figure out where she was, or if she was standing, floating or lying on the floor, all she could feel were the cold and the weight of the silver key on her hand. She closed her eyes for a while, trying to forget, only listening to the sound of her heart.
When she opened her eyes and looked around, she was not in the attic anymore, but in her bedroom, lying on her bed, holding something so tightly in her hand,something that was hurting her. The key.
I have been struggling to write a book for years now, and I can surely say I have ideas for 4 or 5 different ones, in my mind and small pieces of paper scattered around my house. But as I am a perfectionist and a VERY DAMN GOOD procrastinator, it never became real.
Today, while… procrastinating a little bit (for a change.LOL) I received a tweet that called my attention:
National Novel Writing Month 2009
What’s this?
National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.
and I though…well, maybe it’s just what I need!
SO, following the NaNoWriMo advice, I am spreading the word I am an official participant, so you can ask me about it during November, so I keep working hard not to feel ashamed I could not accomplish it…LOL
In case you want to add me as a NaNoWriMo buddy, here is my profile:
http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/user/544784
Now, HELP ME HERE:
Should I write it in Portuguese or English?
We can’t deny stories may guide our lives in ways we can’t explain, and I have to confess, the one that have been following me for a long time, is not a very happy one, but I find in it some elements that make my life magical and inspiring… so,if I could choose a poem/ fairytale, as a favourite, I would choose:
“The Lady of Shalott”, which is a Victorian ballad by the English poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892). The poem talks about the Arthurian subject based on medieval sources. What is it about? (Especially for those too lazy to read a good poem!)
The Lady of Shalott lives in an island castle in a river, which flows to Camelot, but the local farmers know little about her.
She seems to be a magical and Her business is to look at the world outside her castle through a mirror, and to weave what she sees into a tapestry/loom. She is forbidden by the magic to look at the outside world directly.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
The farmers who live near her island hear her singing and know who she is, but they never see her.
The Lady sees ordinary people, loving couples, and knights in pairs reflected in her mirror.
One day, she sees the reflection of Sir Lancelot riding alone. Although she knows that it is forbidden, in love, she looks out the window at him.
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell’d shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn’d like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot
The mirror brakes, the tapestry flies off on the wind, and the Lady feels the power of her curse.
Out flew the web and floated wide-
The mirror crack’d from side to side;
“The curse is come upon me,” cried
The Lady of Shalott.
An autumn storm suddenly arises. The lady leaves her castle, finds a boat, writes her name on it, gets into the boat, sets it adrift, and sings her death song as she drifts down the river to Camelot. The locals find the boat and the body, realize whom she is, and are saddened. Lancelot, in Love, prays that God will have mercy on her soul.
Lord Alfred Tennyson’s Inspiration
This is one of Tennyson’s most popular poems. The story of the Lady of Shalott is a version of “Elaine the fair maid of Astolat”, from Thomas Malory’s Morte d’Arthur. Elaine’s naive love for Lancelot was unrequited. She died of a broken heart (committed suicide). Her dead body (with a suicide note between her hands) was floated down the Thames to Camelot.
Some late authors wrote about her, or inspired in Tennyson’s poem, such as, Agatha Christie that wrote a Miss Marple mystery entitled “The Mirror Crack’d From Side to Side”.
Other forms of art were inspired by it, like, The Pre-Raphaelites Brotherhood painters. Where a good example is Waterhouse who made three separate paintings of “The Lady of Shalott”. I have a copy of one of them hanging above my bed… LONG STORY!) CLICK TO ENLARGE
Even in a modern world, we have the exquisite work of Loreena Mckennitt in the following song:
and finally:
THE POEM
The Lady of Shalott – 1842 version
“On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro’ the field the road runs by
To many-tower’d Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow veil’d,
Slide the heavy barges trail’d
By slow horses; and unhail’d
The shallop flitteth silken-sail’d
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?
Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly;
Down to tower’d Camelot;
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers, ” ‘Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott.”
There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot;
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls
Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-hair’d page in crimson clad
Goes by to tower’d Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror’s magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot;
Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
“I am half sick of shadows,” said
The Lady of Shalott.
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro’ the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel’d
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glitter’d free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon’d baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armor rung
Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell’d shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn’d like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro’ the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, burning bright,
Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow’d;
On burnish’d hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow’d
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
“Tirra lirra,” by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look’d down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack’d from side to side;
“The curse is come upon me,” cried
The Lady of Shalott.
In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower’d Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And around about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.
And down the river’s dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance –
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.
Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right –
The leaves upon her falling light –
Thro’ the noises of the night,
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn’d to tower’d Camelot.
For ere she reach’d upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And around the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? And what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the Knights at Camelot;
But Lancelot mused a little space
He said, “She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott.”
This was a very long weekend, since I didn’t work on Friday and it was followed by a Holiday on Monday. Everything was supposed to be perfect, except for the fact that I was in a place I didn’t want to be, and apparently alone. (Even though there were some people walking around).
In these moments I always tend to think “how could people live apart from their loved ones in ancient times?”, I think it was not easy, imagine your beloved travelled… It used to take days, months, if not years, and no internet, nor phone! Letters could take ages. I would never be able to live in such anxiety.
I think I would adopt desperate measures just like any other Heroine from famous romances.
Yes, I bet you thought of Romeo and Juliet, or maybe going a bit further Tristan and Iseult. But I want to go EVEN further… I always think of the Lady of Shalott and Lancelot, or the Celtic Myth of Deirdre.
Deirdre or Derdriu is the most tragic heroine in Irish mythology and pointed to be the inspiration to many other modern love stories (including Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet).
Deirdre was the daughter of the royal storyteller Fedlimid mac Daill. When she was born, Cathbad the druid prophesied that she would be the most beautiful woman in land, and that kings and lords would go to war over her, and Ulster’s three greatest warriors would be forced into exile because of her.
Conchobar mac Nessa, king of Ulster, decided to hide Deirdre in a place only Leabharcham, an old woman would know, so he could marry her when she was old enough. However, she fell in love with Naoise, a handsome young warrior, hunter and singer, who was accompanied by his two brothers—the sons of Uisnech. He and his brother run away to Scotland, but wherever they went the local king would try to kill Naoise and his brothers so he could have Deirdre. Eventually they ended up on a remote island, where Conchobar tracked them down.
He sent Fergus mac Róich to them with a message of safe conduct home, but on the way back to Emain Macha Fergus was waylaid, forced by his personal geis (a kind of curse) to accept any offer of hospitality. He sent them on to Emain Macha with his son to protect them. After they had arrived, Conchobar sent Leabharcham to spy on Deirdre, to see whether or not she had lost her beauty in her long years of travel.
Leabharcham, trying still to protect Deirdre from a marriage to Conchobar, told him she had lost all her beauty. However, Conchobar had sent another spy, Trendhorn, who told him that Deirdre was as beautiful as ever. The next day, Naoise and his brothers, Ardan and Ainle, faced Conchobar, aided by a few Red Branch Knights, before Conchobar evoked their oath of loyalty to him and had Deirdre dragged to his side. At this point, Éogan mac Durthacht threw a spear, killing Naoise, and his brothers were killed shortly after.
Frustrated by Deirdre’s lack of love for him, Conchobar offered her to Éogan mac Durthacht, the man who’d murdered Naoise.
She committed suicide by leaning out of her chariot and dashing her head against a rock. In some versions of the story, she died of grief.
The End
Well, I am certainly not going to jump out of the bus, but I have to admit she was quite brave to do that.
Although it’s a very ancient myth, this story inspired many authors such as Yeats to write plays about it.
There are four plays based on Deirdre’s story: George William Russell’s Deirdre (1902), William Butler Yeats’ Deirdre (1907), J.M. Synge’s Deirdre of the Sorrows (1910), and Vincent Woods’ A Cry from Heaven (2005). There are also two books: Deirdre (1923) by James Stephens and The Celts (1988) by Elona Malterre.
But if you would like to take a look into the complete story, here are some very good versions:
Have you ever met someone, and from that first moment you knew there was something special about them?
When a friendship was formed quickly and easily, and from the start you felt like this person knew you better than anyone ever could. You may have just met an Anam Cara.
Anam Cara is the Gaelic term for a soul friend. It is much more than just a regular friendship – the Anam Cara friendship is deep and transcendent. An Anam Cara knows your thoughts, your feelings, your past and your present sometimes better than you do.
The meaning of Anam cara is Soul Friend – Anam = Soul and Cara = Friend. An Anam cara offers spiritual direction. This includes the invitation to the awakening of your emotional body/mind/soul.
At one time or another we have all felt lonely or isolated. We have all had times were we felt misunderstood; standing on the outside looking in, just longing to belong. The Anam Cara eases that feeling of loneliness and isolation. Our Anam Cara understands us at a deep, spiritual level, and reminds us that we are never alone. They provide shelter from the storm and a light in the darkest of places.
Our Anam Cara is not necessarily our spouse, or partner (though they can be). Frequently our Anam Cara fills the role of a best friend and confidant. An Anam Cara may be a life time friend, who appears to us in childhood and stays with us throughout the years. Or they may appear later in life to accompany us on our journey. They may stay for years, or go out with the tide. However long they stay, their presence is a gift and a blessing.
And just as we are blessed by this relationship, so they are blessed too, because we, also, are an Anam Cara.
A Friendship Blessing
From the book “Anam Cara” By John O’Donohue
May you be blessed with good friends.
May you learn to be a good friend to yourself.
May you be able to journey to that place in your soul where there is great love, warmth, feeling, and forgiveness.
May this change you.
May it transfigure that which is negative, distant, or cold in you.
May you be brought in to the real passion, kinship, and affinity of belonging.
May you treasure your friends.
May you be good to them and may you be there for them;
May they bring you all the blessings, challenges, truth, and light that you need for your journey.
May you never be isolated.
May you always be in the gentle nest of belonging with your anam cara.
How great is writing about things and people we love? Yesterday I interviewed the Fabulous Lorraine Garland -Neil Gaiman’s Personal Assistant
How to become personal assistant to a celebrity
In the business world, a personal assistant is a trusted employee who assumes the role of an executive’s chief-of-staff. In the past, a personal assistant worked only with celebrities, but that’s no longer the case.
When you become a personal assistant, you are in charge of organizing a great part of your employer’s life, so initiative is vital. The ability to work under stress and to multitask is also very invaluable.
According to Lorraine Garland -Neil Gaiman’s Personal Assistant for 17 years- being a Personal Assistant is not exactly like acting like a mother to a child, instead, it’smore like being another “part of their brain”, or another “set of hands.” “You have to take care of all the things they don’t have time for, from food to someone to listen to them, so you free them up to do what they do best”.
If you are thinking about glamour and meeting celebrities, being a Personal Assistant may sound very tempting at first glance, but there are some drawbacks you must consider.
The average Personal Assistant may put in anywhere from 40 to 80 hours or more a week and if the working relationship becomes strained, the role of personal assistant can become very stressful indeed.
Far from being a tedious job, Lorraine Garland says, “It can be very tiring, exciting and demanding. You have to be willing to learn fast and work whenever you are needed. Which might be 5:00am, or until midnight.” Concerning being a very successful writer’s Assistant and getting involved with her boss’s works she also adds, “I do read his books, and love them. Sometimes I transcribe them for him, he writes longhand in a notebook. Sometimes I research strange facts for him.”
On the other hand, Personal Assistants are often in a position to interact with high-level executives. Executives may also invite a personal assistant to attend business dinners or private parties. Vacations for executives often become a working vacation for a personal assistant.
When asked, “Which are the three keys to becoming a Successful Personal Assistant?” Lorraine Garland points:
1. Check your ego. You aren’t the talent.
2. Write EVERYTHING down, make a to do list and keep it current.
3. Be as nice as possible to everyone you come in contact with. You never know.
To become a personal assistant, you should also need the ability to communicate professionally, remain calm under pressure, be tactful and also be aware of the technological needs to perform your job. “Know your Smartphone very well. Sleep with it. Never turn it off.” says Garland.
Now you must be thinking, “where do I start?” and “Do I have to take a course, or read books about it?”
The best way to learn how to become a personal assistant is by doing it! “If you find yourself in such a job, you will know very quickly if it is for you. And you will never know all you need to, if your Boss keeps getting bigger, you will learn fast what you need to know.” says Lorraine, who started working when Neil Gaiman moved to the United States and needed someone to put his library on his shelves.
Just keep in mind; you must enjoy the routine you are about to face, which to Neil Gaiman’s Personal Assistant includes: Airline reservations, booking hotels, renting cars and trip itineraries, setting up events, dog care and training, keeping the pantry stocked, mail coming in and going out, garden things, requests from fans and letters from them, cooking, saying “no”, buying clothes, archiving books, keeping the Schedule, setting up interviews things come up. But this will vary from Personal Assistant to Personal Assistant.
Fabulous Lorraine - photo by Kyle Cassidy
A good tip is to start by looking for a job opening locally, even if you have to volunteer your services at first. Join professional organizations, network, and improve your skills. Once qualified, a personal assistant is usually trained in-house so you can be molded to fit the employer’s requirements.
When asked about the wonders of being a Personal Assistant, Lorraine doesn’t hesitate to say “I think it’s best when I pull off an Amazing Coup and everything goes perfectly. I can find anything, schedule anything, make anything work, whatever it is, I can Make It Happen. That’s the best.”
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