Song: Intro and The Sky & the Dawn & the Sun
Singers: Hayley Westenra, Chloë Agnew, Órla Fallon, Méav Ní Mhaolchatha, Lisa Kelly, Mairead Nesbitt

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQN9gr-Hb_Q

I was on retreat at Dao Sho Nu (?) near Drogheda, a property which, as in Mexico, was kindly given to us by the Reynolds (?) family, to finish my prostrations. I had great fun buying the materials and putting in a shrine in the old living room, placing thereon one of the Gold Buddha Rupas given to VCTR by HHK so that Ireland would have one of them – and hopefully still has it. I found the prostrations a little harder in the old, empty cold stone house with no land because the neighbours, the Pidgeon Family, had expropriated the land which the previous owners had not used. All we had was the narrow 5′ road leading to the main gate, the backyard – because it was surrounded by a stone wall, and nothing else.

So I was finishing up my prostrations and it was a Sunday, see, before I had to leave, having dawdled far too often in this informal retreat and spent far too much time exploring the nightlife and Roman Catholic maidens in nearby Drogheda and not-so-far-away Dublin. I had to do about 1500 or so, more than I had ever done in one day before. Now Dixie, the caretaker, see, had made a date with me at the local pub after to celebrate and say farewell. I lumbered along, almost decided not to go since I wasn’t finished until 11 pm, but then went over anyway. Remember it’s a Sunday so I suspected they would already be closed.

They weren’t. Waiting for me, and arranged by Dixie, was a full house of about fifty boisterous locals of all ages from five to a hundred and five; some of them, truth be told, were a might p’d off that I was so late and Dixie had made them wait. Wait for what? Not the pleasure of my company surely, but…

to sing. And sing they did. Starting with the oldest gentleman there, who manifested as one born somewhere between 200 and 1900 AD, who gently, feebly, and lyrically started an old song in ‘the Gaelic’, and nobody accompanied him. I had the feeling this was a special night even for them for some reason. Then gradually more people came to the center of the naturally formed circle, started other songs but now everyone joined in, old and young, and kept at it until dawn. It was a magical night.

I had chatted with Dixie about the singing and all and he had told me that since the advent of television people no longer sang in the pubs, although at the local there they tried to do it once a month on Fridays but it was fading away now. Since I was so interested, and sad to hear this, Dixie had used this as a pretext to rouse them all up, which is why they were waiting.

But singing is in the Irish/Scottish soul and their songs echo still today in the rocks in Nova Scotia, especially on Cape Breton Island.

Looking at the smile of the man in the group listening to Liam recite the poem at the end of the above clip instantly recalled this memorable night; and also I felt that his smile was the true smile of Shambhala, which is in all, belongs to all, and universal, although in this case: pure Irish, albeit with just perhaps the teeniest weeniest hint of the McPough clan grin flickering around the dralic corners!

Thanks for the clip link.

no fear, no envy, no meanness

Here’s the segment on YouTube.

Speaking of Irish singers, I heard that Liam Clancy just died. Apparently Bob Dylan once said he could not “think of anybody who’s a better ballad singer than Liam.”

If you’re in the mood for a rousing song, here’s one performed by Liam and his brothers, who are now all dead: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9JW_z9MED7c To me this song is about making your way through the charnal grounds of life, and keeping a cheerful attitude on the way.

Liam’s the chap with the guitar and the smile.

The last verse is about how sometimes you just have to open a can of whoop-ass on someone, when passification, magnetization and so on haven’t worked. Or maybe it’s just a silly song about drinking, unemployment and fighting; hard to tell…?

Sláinte.

But this Sinéad Lohan version is so beautiful and heartfelt.

To Ramona

Ramona, come closer,
Shut softly your watery eyes.
The pangs of your sadness
Shall pass as your senses will rise.
The flowers of the city
Though breathlike, get deathlike at times.
And there’s no use in tryin’
T’ deal with the dyin’,
Though I cannot explain that in lines.

Your cracked country lips,
I still wish to kiss,
As to be under the strength of your skin.
Your magnetic movements
Still capture the minutes I’m in.
But it grieves my heart, love,
To see you tryin’ to be a part of
A world that just don’t exist.
It’s all just a dream, babe,
A vacuum, a scheme, babe,
That sucks you into feelin’ like this.

I can see that your head
Has been twisted and fed
By worthless foam from the mouth.
I can tell you are torn
Between stayin’ and returnin’
On back to the South.
You’ve been fooled into thinking
That the finishin’ end is at hand.
Yet there’s no one to beat you,
No one t’ defeat you,
‘Cept the thoughts of yourself feeling bad.

I’ve heard you say many times
That you’re better ‘n no one
And no one is better ‘n you.
If you really believe that,
You know you got
Nothing to win and nothing to lose.
From fixtures and forces and friends,
Your sorrow does stem,
That hype you and type you,
Making you feel
That you must be exactly like them.

I’d forever talk to you,
But soon my words,
They would turn into a meaningless ring.
For deep in my heart
I know there is no help I can bring.
Everything passes,
Everything changes,
Just do what you think you should do.
And someday maybe,
Who knows, baby,
I’ll come and be cryin’ to you.

Copyright ©1964; renewed 1992 Special Rider Music

You can hear Bob Dylan sing it at http://www.jango.com/music/Bob+Dylan?l=0

Personally, I like Sinéad Lohan’s tender, breathy version better.