Gabriela
Meszarics
A
Walk of Human Contact
This text is available with German assistance - click onto "Diaridu" under PAGES
This text is available with German assistance - click onto "Diaridu" under PAGES
Achieving
that which one thinks is impossible is something that can be
euphoric, and, just recently, Gabriela Meszarics of Vienna got more
than expected when she walked herself free from her own self made
shackles. And the footsteps she followed were those of St. James,
and they were ready and waiting! The way of St. James was her way.
Gabriela
had not been well. Burnout! Her world had caved in, there was
darkness. There was no way forward and no way out. She had always a
reason as to why nothing could work. This once bundle of fun who once
loved darts, soccer, music and dance was set on a course that was
spiralling out of control and downward at speed! She needed help.
And
help came in the form of a friend. He had the answer, and the answer
was simple, it was belief. “Believe in yourself and just do it!”
And these seven short words were all that were needed. A light had
come on and she was on her way back.
And,
step by step she returned. Her life was happening again. But, there
was still one thing left which she passionately needed to do, the St.
James way; and, again, just do it were the words which were driving
her on. And then, one bright summer day she was there! In Spain. She
was ready to go and ready to climb. The Pirenese
were waiting!
It
was not easy! It took time. There were moments of deep doubt and
high moments of joy, 750 kilometres, is, after all, a very long way!
But, with every step she could feel the power of the route which was
pulling her on. And, everyone else on the route felt exactly the
same, and, it was this strength which enabled everyone to help and
encourage each other. Discussions in depth at the close of each day
provided the power for the morrow! This walk was all about close
human feeling and contact.
And
then she was there. There Gabriela stood in the middle of an early
morning deserted square in front of the cathedral of Santiago. She
had made it. Now she could do all. She was free! She was euphoric!
She had not only arrived at this beautiful cathedral, she had also
arrived at herself! She had come home! She had achieved the
impossible!
Life
is for living. Just do it!
Plants
There
is no doubt at all that a small patch of green, however small, makes
a very big difference. And balconies, if planted without the usual
restraints of imagination can be very effective indeed. And, right
now, it's the Anemone that are providing an explosion of wonderful
poisonous beauty on Aranka Acs's Viennese balcony.
Poetry
William
Allingham
1824
– 1889
The
Fairies
Up
the airy mountain,
Down
the rushy glen,
We
daren't go a hunting
For
fear of little men;
Wee
folk, good folk,
Trooping
altogether;
Green
jacket, red cap,
And
white owl's feather!
Down
along the rocky shore
Some
make their home,
They
live on crispy pancakes
Of
yellow tide-foam;
Some
in the reeds
Of
the black mountain lake,
With
frogs for their watch-dogs,
All
night awake.
High
on the hill top
The
old king sits;
He
is now so old and grey
He's
nigh lost his wits.
With
a bridge of white mist
Columbkill
he crosses,
On
his stately journeys
From
Slieveleague to Rosses;
Or
going up with music
On
cold starry nights
To
sup with the Queen
Of
the gay Northern Lights.
They
stole little Bridget
For
seven years long;
When
she came down again
Her
friends were all gone.
They
took her lightly back,
Between
the night and morrow,
They
thought that she was fast asleep,
But
she was dead with sorrow.
They
have kept her ever since
Deep
within the lake,
On a
bed of flag-leaves,
Watching
till she wake.
By
the craggy hill-side,
Through
the mosses bare,
They
have planted thorn-trees
For
pleasure here and there.
Is
any man so daring
As
dig them up in spite,
He
shall find their sharpest thorns
In
his bed at night.
Up
the airy mountain,
Down
the rushy glen,
We
daren't go a hunting
For
fear of little men;
Wee
folk, good folk,
Trooping
all together;
Green
jacket, red cap,
And
white owl's feather!
