Tag Archives: treasure

maelstrom (or not)

water and headlandI am water, not the rock – I am able to flow instead of being eroded.

Powerful affirmation in a world that never teaches us to fall, but our ability to rise again and adapt, mend our bruises and scars, with time and sheer resilience, remains a strength in many of us. Life takes us to amazing places, a thought I very recently shared with a close friend – sometimes, totally unexpected, with their areas of “shimmering” and “dark” areas… The fear of the unknown, the dark lands with its own pitfalls and question marks – paths littered with both flowers and pot holes, sometimes deep. Irrespective of all this, we make our own choices, and, when trusting our own decisions, select the path ahead. Because we dare to take a risk and our eagerness to see the light will act as a magnet. We, journey folk through our lives, will use our boots and hearts well. To adapt in a world in perpetual motion, with its own sudden twists and turns, sometimes out of our own jurisdiction, is key to survival, living. We can at times lose track of the compass – our own sense of direction – however, it is our own ability to steer our own boat and free that sail – be resourceful, innovative in our own sense of self and trustfulness.

At different stages in our lives, we shall reach crossroads; a change of wind that may define a change of current. That’s when our compass tell us of change to come. We are living in extraordinary times, with others taking all kinds of decisions on our behalf. Again, our survival senses that need to re-assess our current position and, with wisdom and trust in the water, will help us find and write a course in life that will take us away from a maelstrom that can feel dangerous or too dark to our taste. This journey may feel treacherous, it is however necessary to find ourselves in calmer waters, because we simply need it.

And yet, I need headlands, and lighthouses.

In the kingdom named Animalia, we are, by definition, land mammals. This may make many of you smile… But is it a fact. And I am with a passionate sense of place, solid, with a beacon that reminds my being and spirit where “home” is. Because we make it where it is. Home, that concept – feeling more than a place when one comes to think of it – can be reached, eventually. For nearly two decades, I have experienced the joy of such feeling, and rooting up like thrift, or sea rocket, by the edge of the water. A poet friend once confessed to me how “fortunate” I was to reach such el dorado, feeling of home, for she was still searching for it. Being born in one place on Earth does not necessarily defines it automatically as home. Far from it, as we have neither chose it in the first nor do we have necessarily have to simply “get on with it” and die where were once born. Some of us will feel a pull from a far away land… Yes we turn back into what our ancestors were, nomadic in our minds and hearts. We were made sedentary by politics imposed by some elite in pursuit no other than materialistic, or sheer wish to control us – where we are, what we do, what is expected of us as contributors to their world (not ours).

I believe in bettering myself whilst contributing to the community in which I have settled. Important as it will define my sense of assimilation within such community, hence, feeling home. I am the water, not the rock, and adapting to where I anchor my mind and heart feels paramount. Enriching the self whilst enriching others with a different culture. A two-way process in a multi-cultural world, or island. My own island where I live has been subjected to this throughout history, as it is bathing in both a sea and an ocean. Nomads in search of their own treasure island mingling, blending with natives to contribute to the fabric of a much more open society. A blessing and a powerful feeling.

My own beacon still shines very bright on top of that headland. However, I have reached others that feel equally powerful in their luminosity, hence defining and accepting in my head the notions of hame, Heim, home in an effort to avoid losing either partial or complete track of the compass. From the moment I chose to leap out and make my life an adventure, as encouraged by my grandmother (who always believed in me) I have begun to believe much more deeply this is a wonderful privilege to be able to have more than one beacon. I have felt and found myself in a couple of treacherous types of maelstrom in the past half decade, but, with the love of support of what I consider my kinsfolk, soul family, as well as all those who deeply embrace me as a human being, have helped me to flow again as I naturally do it.

After all, I am the water, not the rock. 


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Filed under 2017, 60N, Arcania, blogging, celebration, colours, earth, geopoetics, home, humanity, island, life, light, metasaga, north, roots, scotland, shetland, shore, spirit, world, writing

treasure fae da north (1)

From the hand of RLS, Robert Louis Stevenson,
father of
Treasure Island…



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Filed under 2014, 60N, celebration, exhibition, geopoetics, home, images, island, museum, north, project, shetland, writing

the other one…

anchoring in this world

New portfolio of images,

under construction,



bear with moi 🙂


thank you, merci.

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Filed under 2013, 60N, Arcania, celebration, images, project

boule de neige

Elena's smile Snowball.

I love snowballs.

Wonderful creative connections.

A short moment ago, I was pondering on the magic of what a single project can entail… And rightly posted Elizabeth’s constellation (see blog entry below).

Well, here comes the other, as another wonderful offshoot from NTS IGNITION (see March blog entries).

A voice, a world so ethereal. A name,

Elena Piras

Enjoy 🙂

And get the CD, Journey, it is awesome! 


Filed under 2013, 60N, celebration, colours, geopoetics, home, island, life, poets, project, shetland, spirit, spring

song of tirricks

20120802-130644.jpg Tie your own boat a’da noost – the highest point at any beach – and walk around.

Under August’s chaotic skies, we set foot on one of the richest secluded beaches of the isle. The air was filled with salt and beads, so we wandered around da craigs – rocks closest to the rocking North Atlantic, clad with seaweed, selkies and chimes…


There, at our feet, a treasure trove in between sand grains & rock pools waited for us.


In all its generosity, the Atlantic brought us nacre beyond our dreams – as if last Yule’s most savage storm had tossed the ocean bed like a golden laced crĂŞpe suzette…


So we kneeled with respect and selected the very ones that caught our hearts. Oblivious to selkies (seals) & tirricks (terns) in the distance, we continued to scour the beach – go though the sand with a thin-toothed comb.

We bagged our loot, and as we were about to leave, the wind played tricks and heaved a ballet above us:

song of tirricks

So we watched in awe our visiting swallows of the sea, as they vanished in hissing skies.

Lugh, the Celtic god of the sun, is still roosting inside low cloud…

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Filed under 2012, 60N, Arcania, atlantic, birds, celebration, colours, earth, geopoetics, home, images, island, north, seabird, shetland, spirit, wind, world, writing