Wonderful story, beautifully told. The story of my life in many ways. I have found my place in the last year, having left a toxic relationship. The thing now is to be who I am, not to be distracted.
Thank you so much for this beautiful newsletter, for your generous sharing each and every time. I have come to greatly look forward to each communication you send! Wonderful synchronicity here, as in my Scottish Gaelic story class, a version of the man and the herring was shared a couple of weeks ago. So interesting to see how stories manifest themselves. Such capacity for variation is evidence for me of the endless possibilities of weaving, of creating, out of our lives. Sending gratitude to you!
Your book will be my Christmas present to myself. Living in Scotland, having landed there through winding paths from a Brittany childhood, I love the fact that so many places here retain their storied roots... I love that Edinburgh has a very active Storytelling Centre! (And ah the each uisge...Learning Gaelic is delightful in itself but the language is also the key that unlocks the stories inside the landscapes here too :-))
The question around identity and place deeply resonated... What do wanderers seek? Maybe new ways to experience themselves? What happens to us when we live in "lands that have lost their stories"? I feel that might have been why I was so drawn to Scotland and still am.
A dark tale, for sure, but what a delicious, if gory, twist of revenge at the end! 😄 Beautifully written, but there is no experience quite like that of being read to. Maybe deep down it reminds us of the cosiness and safety of being read to as children, or maybe it goes further back to the fire-lit tales of the seanchaí. Anyway, I really enjoyed it, thank you. And for someone who feels the landscape as church, I understand your unease about place and the fading of stories.
Thank you so much for this wonderful audio story Sharon, it's so rich I love it, I could spend hours unraveling all the different layers of meaning, and I probably will as I spend a cold and snowy weekend indoors in West Yorkshire. The question ‘What do I know when I am in this place and nowhere else?’ (home for the last 42 years) made me pause for thought - the answer is conflicting - loved, held and supported but also stifled and immature. I resonate completely that certain thoughts might be possible only in certain places as when I'm here I can't seem to help revisiting a regretful past as there are reminders everywhere, especially in the land as walking in nature has always been a huge part of my life, and when I ventured away (Asia for a year) the ghosts dissolved and I felt lighter and free, yet displaced somewhat. The quest to find answers continues. I hope you manage to rekindle your imagination in wales. As you mentioned in Hagitude I'm looking forward to seeing how you might uncover a 'sandstone witch' as she must certainly roam the land here, but I've yet to find her :)
I certainly believe in the idea that landscapes are closely linked to our thoughts and imagination. As someone who has Celtic roots, but who lives in the US, I have never felt that connection with place. It feels as though I’m “homeless” in that sense. Most of my stories are set overseas -- in wild landscapes that I have never experienced. Perhaps I am drawn to them out of ancestral memory? Either way, I can relate to not feeling inspired by one’s surroundings. As more of the world becomes urbanized and all the beauty uprooted, it becomes harder to find those stories in a land that has been destroyed. I do hope you find an inspiring place to live in 2023 (I’m also striving for the same!)
I was utterly immersed in the brine of this story, sublime writing, beautifully delivered.
Ohhhh the ending! I loved it!
Lets have it with chips....
Wonderful story, beautifully told. The story of my life in many ways. I have found my place in the last year, having left a toxic relationship. The thing now is to be who I am, not to be distracted.
Thank you so much for this beautiful newsletter, for your generous sharing each and every time. I have come to greatly look forward to each communication you send! Wonderful synchronicity here, as in my Scottish Gaelic story class, a version of the man and the herring was shared a couple of weeks ago. So interesting to see how stories manifest themselves. Such capacity for variation is evidence for me of the endless possibilities of weaving, of creating, out of our lives. Sending gratitude to you!
Ha! – you're the first other person who has ever heard it. How lovely!
Your book will be my Christmas present to myself. Living in Scotland, having landed there through winding paths from a Brittany childhood, I love the fact that so many places here retain their storied roots... I love that Edinburgh has a very active Storytelling Centre! (And ah the each uisge...Learning Gaelic is delightful in itself but the language is also the key that unlocks the stories inside the landscapes here too :-))
The question around identity and place deeply resonated... What do wanderers seek? Maybe new ways to experience themselves? What happens to us when we live in "lands that have lost their stories"? I feel that might have been why I was so drawn to Scotland and still am.
Thank you for your soul-stirring words.
A dark tale, for sure, but what a delicious, if gory, twist of revenge at the end! 😄 Beautifully written, but there is no experience quite like that of being read to. Maybe deep down it reminds us of the cosiness and safety of being read to as children, or maybe it goes further back to the fire-lit tales of the seanchaí. Anyway, I really enjoyed it, thank you. And for someone who feels the landscape as church, I understand your unease about place and the fading of stories.
Thank you so much – glad you enjoyed it! And I love reading stories as much as being read to. A dying art among adults ...
Thank you so much for this wonderful audio story Sharon, it's so rich I love it, I could spend hours unraveling all the different layers of meaning, and I probably will as I spend a cold and snowy weekend indoors in West Yorkshire. The question ‘What do I know when I am in this place and nowhere else?’ (home for the last 42 years) made me pause for thought - the answer is conflicting - loved, held and supported but also stifled and immature. I resonate completely that certain thoughts might be possible only in certain places as when I'm here I can't seem to help revisiting a regretful past as there are reminders everywhere, especially in the land as walking in nature has always been a huge part of my life, and when I ventured away (Asia for a year) the ghosts dissolved and I felt lighter and free, yet displaced somewhat. The quest to find answers continues. I hope you manage to rekindle your imagination in wales. As you mentioned in Hagitude I'm looking forward to seeing how you might uncover a 'sandstone witch' as she must certainly roam the land here, but I've yet to find her :)
I think the trick is to become her :-) But as a natural granite witch, I don't think I have it in me ...
I certainly believe in the idea that landscapes are closely linked to our thoughts and imagination. As someone who has Celtic roots, but who lives in the US, I have never felt that connection with place. It feels as though I’m “homeless” in that sense. Most of my stories are set overseas -- in wild landscapes that I have never experienced. Perhaps I am drawn to them out of ancestral memory? Either way, I can relate to not feeling inspired by one’s surroundings. As more of the world becomes urbanized and all the beauty uprooted, it becomes harder to find those stories in a land that has been destroyed. I do hope you find an inspiring place to live in 2023 (I’m also striving for the same!)