Wednesday, 11 December 2024

Christmas in Achill - by Robbie Tallon

Christmas in Achill Achill is my favourite place to be at Christmas time. I love to be home and meet cousins who I haven’t seen for months. There are a few things that make the place unique. Blackouts are actually sort of common at Christmas. Families like mine go home there to spend the holidays with our grandparents, and when there’s twice as many people there than usual, and every house puts on the oven for dinner at the same time, the power can go out. It can also happen because of the stormy weather common in Mayo in the Winter. It never lasts long, but it is something different about Achill. But it doesn’t just happen on the 25th. I remember one Christmas Eve when we sat and read Christmas stories by candlelight. We have a special candle for Christmas Eve, and that night it was extra useful. My sister remembers a time when the power went out, and came back during Christmas Eve Mass. The tree joined the candles to light up the church. St Stephen’s Day in Achill is great. The entire island goes walking on the beach in the morning. Even when you’re getting blown around like a kite, or you’re drenched from a surprise shower of sideways rain, it’s still an enjoyable morning. The beach is packed twice in the week. The second time is on New Year’s Day. The local lifeboat organises a huge fundraiser. Pretty much everyone I know goes and swims at Dugort beach. Everyone’s tired and cold, all wrapped up in hats and scarves, before we have to brave the icy wind and sea. We run to the water partly because that’s part of the event, but also because we’re all too frozen to be standing around in nothing but swimming shorts. The water is always freezing, but it’s reassuring to imagine the warm fire in Ted’s Pub when we stop there for lunch. It’s a lovely way to start a New Year.

Thursday, 21 November 2024

I Run - by Rosa Bell-Megaw

The freedom I feel whilst running is like no other, it quietens my mind and lets me escape the busy world momentarily. As I let my feet guide me around the streets of the city, I feel a sense of peace but also a strong feeling of freedom.  

I intricately lace up my runners, one lace over the next, making sure they will not come undone, I notice all the dirt and marks from runs before. I reminisce on those moments and different feelings. I let out a sigh, my body feels tired from a long day at school, I can see the sun beginning to set. I do not want to go on this run. I pull my hair back into a loose ponytail, it hangs heavily down the back of my neck. I rub my eyes, they feel as though they could shut at any moment. My bed with its warm duvet and hot water bottle looks inviting to say the least. However, I try to push these thoughts aside. I take one step out my door and begin. 

I start out slowly, carefully mapping my route in my head. Before long, I realise I have forgotten my headphones. I briefly consider turning back, but it is too late now. I notice my breathing; it sounds loud and unsteady. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears: it’s like a metronome, each beat following a steady rhythm, pumping blood around my body. I try take control of my breathing, slowly in through my nose and out through my mouth. I listen to the sounds around me, the car engines, the beeping of the traffic lights, the hushed chatter of faraway conversations. Like an orchestra, they all create a melody with one another. Each with their own unique sound, but blending perfectly together. Perhaps I don’t need my headphones after all. 

One foot overtakes the other and I can feel my pace quicken; it is as though they are in a race with one another. Each foot striding forwards. I can see my breath in front of me. Like a warm steam trying to engulf me, pushing me to run faster so I’ll warm up. My legs start to tingle, the cold air wraps around them like a blanket, I push to break free and warm them up. I suddenly become aware of just the tip of my nose. It’s so cold and feels as though it could fall off. I am beginning to regret my choice of going on this run. My hands tightly in fists, trap a pocket of heat. I savour this feeling like a child with their last sweet. The cold begins to thaw around my arms, they sting slightly but are becoming warmer and more agile. My legs are soon the same, they feel warm and as though they will keep supporting me, pushing me forwards.  

As I run through the streets the speckled concrete lays beneath my feet. The varying shades of grey create a mosaic that I gently tread on. The green leaves on the trees have turned to brown as the colder months are approaching. The bright shades of orange and red that these new leaves possess always adds a picturesque quality to the streets. Some leaves fall to the floor floating freely and allowing the air to catch them. They are weightless and free. They have no preconceived ideas about where they may fall and just allow, they air to guide them. They contain freedom. I am careful to avoid tripping on the conkers, they vary between different shades of green and brown. I reminisce on my childhood innocence: I used to always collect them come autumn time. I slowly stop and pick one up. I study it in the palm of my hand. Its shiny surface and perfectly round shape resemble that of a jewel. The way the light reflects off it, you would almost think it was glowing. I carefully place it in my pocket and continue running, perhaps I haven’t changed that much. 

I approach the gates to the park; I reach out and feel the cold metal on my fingertips. It sends a shockwave throughout my whole body: this awakens me, I feel alive. A slobbery dog bolts past me, its tongue hanging out the side of its mouth, so far it almost touches the floor. It runs carelessly through the long grass, its ears flowing behind in the wind. Its eyes sparkle and the excitement is almost tangible. The dog has no worries on its mind, it is just running without any second thought. It has the entire field to itself, and it seems as though it may never tire. The dog feels freedom. 

A bus passes me, with its bright yellow lights and fluorescent colour. It's blinding but somewhat comforting to see all the people with their tired faces, being returned home after their busy day. It turns round the corner, leaning so far to one side it appears as though it could fall. The bus seems like its own entity, taking ownership and power of the road. The bus rides freely without any disturbance. I can see my reflection in the windows, I seem so small in comparison.  I see a small bird flying closely beside me, gliding from bush to bush, its dappled wings sparkle in the streetlights. Its sweet song challenges that of the loud traffic. It flies high and low, making no effort to follow any path. It does as it pleases with no second thoughts. The bird glides so freely in the air it encapsulates freedom. I admire it momentarily then return to my run.  

My legs begin to ache, they are all I can think about. The sharp pain in my calf and the ache in my left thigh, make me want to quit. However, no matter how much I keep thinking about them, they just keep going, they have a mind of their own. No matter how much I will them to stop, they continue in their constant flow. One foot in front of the other. They move strongly and freely through the cool air like a horse that can’t stop. I realise, maybe I can do this, maybe this is not so bad.  

As I tread one foot in front of the other, I feel the worries of the day vanish like the shadow of a cloud. Each thought sheds off my body and is left behind, I feel as though I am a snake shedding my skin. My mind feels clearer. I feel freedom without the weight of the day on my shoulders. My arms move up and down is a continuous motion, I feel strong and powerful. I feel as though I may never stop. I can hear my breath, its sharp inhalations create a harmony with the steady rhythm of my feet against the ground. I realise that just like the leaf, the dog, the bus and the bird, I too am free. I capture this feeling, hold it tightly in my fists.  

As I turn the corner, I can see the road that leads to my house. My eyes lock onto my door and they don’t lose focus. My legs, arms and whole body feel tired but my mind feels clearer than ever. I’m so happy I decided to go for a run. I’ve found freedom whilst running and I notice those who have freedom too. Running allows me to feel more present with the world around me and notice the little things. Whilst I run, I don’t have any worries, and I can just feel free. I am so grateful I have this little escape in my life. I will always cherish the little moments.   Rosa Bell-Megaw

 

Wednesday, 13 November 2024

Finding Joy - by Michael Binchy

The bell has gone, school is over. I walk through the bustling halls, getting jostled by the crowd of excited students and arrive at my locker. After entering my code wrong twice, I finally open it and put my books away. I look through my journal to see what homework I have. Nothing much, easy enough. I pass through a mosh pit of people trying to unlock their phones. I wait for my phone to turn on, then I put in my earphones, shuffle my playlist, and go home. There will be a cup of tea, toast, and an episode of House waiting for me. I’ll enjoy that for a while, do my homework, do an online maths grind, have dinner, then I’ll be free.  

I enjoy the structured day of school - the fact that at any point, you know where you are, where you’re going next, and what you’re going to be doing. Nowadays I try to plan everything I do, because otherwise I find myself worrying that I’m not using my time effectively.  In school it’s just a task of getting through the workload, and I’m fine with that.   

Maybe I’ve become institutionalized.  


Where do I find joy? I had too many answers to think about. Going to a friend’s house knowing shenanigans will ensue, trying to ask a Georgian taxi driver in Estonia where the best local restaurant is, or the beauty of the only time the gong player landed his beat on time in a symphony with the orchestra. I couldn’t cover them all. So I thought about what is it that gets me through the everyday. What is it that keeps me going? 


On Mondays after school I have Model United Nations. Twenty teenagers in a classroom behaving like they’re at a UN Assembly. Sometimes it is serious. Every speech feels like a funeral eulogy, owing to a heavy topic or a lack of issues with a resolution to be debated. Or you might have the Uzbek delegate saying how we should ship our nuclear waste to Tashkent and launch it into space, build the death star while we’re at it. Every two months, people dress up in formal outfits and gather in another school to debate on a grander scale. There are different committees with different areas of debate: people who can perfectly disassemble the most rounded argument leaving the crowd dumbfounded in amazement; people who look like they’re about to pass out from fear when speaking, leaving everyone trying to pretend that they don’t notice; and people who could vaporize from their seat and no one would bat an eyelid, because they haven’t said a word all conference. My favourite committee is ECOFIN (Economic and Financial), generally considered to be the most boring. People complain that it is too complicated, but if I feel lost with nothing to say, I can analyse each point, and there’s usually a detail to be improved upon. Maybe a date is unrealistically soon, a clause is too vague, or I can see the point that someone was trying to make but it isn’t presented very well. The atmosphere is somewhere between seriousness and absurdity, discussing complex political issues while eating the dreariest Spaghetti Bolognese you’ve ever tasted.   


Every day I walk the dog. She isn’t the brightest bulb, and I’ll never understand what’s going on inside her fluff-filled mind. She could spend forty-five minutes walking down the estate, sniffing everything in sight. But she always manages to find something exciting in sights I’ve long since tired of, and makes the same route that I walk with her every time an adventure, for both of us, because I’m really the one who’s being walked, being dragged around her spontaneous doggy escapades. 


Aside from my school week, I find one thing that always gets me through my week is having something to look forward to. It can be big or small. Maybe I’m going out with a friend on Saturday, or the orchestra’s coming back, or my family are going on holidays, it doesn’t matter. The important part for me is that there is something fun in my imminent future that I can anticipate. Something where I can remind myself that I should push through whatever I’m working on because there is a reward in sight. And if there isn’t something, I’ll make something. If I haven’t seen one of my friends in a while, I’ll text them, and we’ll make plans. 


The part of my daily life that means the most to me is music. I’ve been doing and enjoying it for most of my life. In orchestra there’s the social element, I get to see friends I probably wouldn’t see outside of the circumstances, and having someone who can relate to the arm cramps you get after playing for three hours makes it much easier and more fun. And it means that my schedule is dominated by something I enjoy, rather than something I’m bored of. And piano is difficult, but I always know that if I stay committed and take it step by step, there will be a point, maybe far away, where the piece I’m playing will click, and then all the work pays off. 


The key element that keeps me going and prompts me to derive joy in my daily life is the routine. I find that when I repeat something on a daily basis, it makes it feel like time is flying: I blink and suddenly a week has passed. That repetitiveness can be seen as drudgery, but I am always vigilant for the happy moments in my life as I go through it. And this means that no matter how long the week may feel, I’m never dreading the next day, as I know that there will be plenty of moments where I will find something to smile about and can start looking forward to these moments. 


If I can make a shape of the daily chaos of life and I can find enjoyment in each day, it means that I can go on content. And when July eventually arrives, I can cast off the shackles of my ritualized, boxed-in life and walk into the distance, finally able to say that it is over, there is nothing left to routine. And then, I can safely say I have found joy.