art – Bealtaine Cottage, Ireland

Magical Wild Herbs and Other Things

Image• Posted on November 2, 2018November 2, 2018 by Colette O'Neill

Mabon Moon

Image• Posted on September 24, 2018 by Colette O'Neill

Observed by Consciousness

Image• Posted on June 5, 2018 by Colette O'Neill

Bealtaine Cottage, Books, care for the earth, Earth, Eco-Living, Ecology, Permaculture, photography

Morning

Posted on July 3, 2017August 14, 2020 by Colette O'Neill

The first week of July and there’s a feint scent of Autumn in the air this morning.

The morning brings a quiet and gentle beginning to the day, untouched by the continuing perplexities of man.

“Man has drawn artificial lines on the chest of the Mother Earth, which have no significance, except for the sake of war and clashes between countries. The soil seems to be the same, the trees the same, the grass the same, and the fragrance of the air, the smell of the earth the same.”
~ Girdhar Joshi

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Yes it is…all the same…at most times hard to believe when one watches the circus of life on MSM.

Bread and circuses, but we all know and recognise real life.

It has a colour and fragrance all of its own.

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“The earth is a mosaic, and most fail to notice the gossamer tesserae floating down from the realm of the mind that form its images of beauty and horror.”
~ Lawren Leo

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Bealtaine Cottage

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Bealtaine Cottage, Inspiration, Ireland, Permaculture, Sustainable Living, Thrift

The Art of Seduction

Posted on June 3, 2014April 26, 2015 by Colette O'Neill

Rain falls softly as I type.

The day has given way to evening and the sun sets in the west behind the trees.

There is a chill in the air; I have lit the stove.

Birds swoop low over the roof of the lodge; so low, I can hear the sound of their wings.

Over recent weeks there has been much clearing out of sheds, cupboards and closets, as the energy of approaching Midsummer holds sway.

Through all of this, I have been mindful of need; keeping up a steady flow of goods to charity shops.

Ever mindful of human need, my mind turns to scarcity.

What does it mean and how does it affect us?

Scarcity is the fundamental economic problem of having seemingly unlimited human wants in a world of limited resources. It states that society has insufficient productive resources to fulfil all human wants and needs.

The art of seduction in society has led to a feeling of scarcity in the mindset of many people.

Media and advertisements seduce many into a perpetual state of want; and when not getting what they desire, into a state of perceived deprivation.

This is what creates and maintains consumers.

Living in a corporate society means being a consumer.

It has suited successive governments to align their economic policy with that of corporations, turning us all into little more than consumers.

Every aspect of our lives is heavily weighted in favour of consumption, yet not even the corporate junk food fills us up!

In the process of this debasement we have lost our sense of community and dignity.

We have been systematically seduced into a continual state of perceived scarcity…the cause of a deepening unhappiness.

____________________________________________

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Animals, Art, Autumn, Cats, Cottage, Country Living, Ireland, photography, Trees, Uncategorized

A Life in the Country ~ Today at Bealtaine Cottage

Posted on October 14, 2011 by Colette O'Neill

Missy. Staring wisely through her beautiful cat’s eyes. Such wisdom in that little head…

Cats can work out mathematically the exact place to sit that will cause most
inconvenience. ~Pam Brown (Indeed…sitting in my seat, I do believe)!

A catless writer is almost inconceivable. It’s a perverse taste, really, since
it would be easier to write with a herd of buffalo in the room than even one
cat; they make nests in the notes and bite the end of the pen and walk on the
typewriter keys. ~Barbara Holland

I bought this painting recently, having been drawn towards it and virtually hypnotised into the purchase…it is old and evokes a sense of 1950’s rural Ireland…and one of my favourite authors wrote expansively about this time…Edna O’Brien.

Every
artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his
pictures. ~Henry Ward Beecher

Jack looks over at Missy the cat…yes, Jack, keep watching…don’t take your eyes off her!

There has never been a cat
Who couldn’t calm me down
By walking
slowly
Past my chair.
~Rod McKuen

History is a cyclic poem written by Time upon the memories of man. ~Percy
Bysshe Shelley

Today I went for a lovely, long walk, down in the old park around what was an ancient house by Lough Key. This is the old stable block as seen through the portcullis…

If one could make alive again for other people some cobwebbed skein of old dead
intrigues and breathe breath and character into dead names and stiff portraits.
That is history to me! ~George Macaulay Trevelyan

This is the old family church near where the old house once stood…the roof has gone and the shell of the beautiful old building stands alone…

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Tag: art

Magical Wild Herbs and Other Things

Mabon Moon

Observed by Consciousness

Morning

The first week of July and there’s a feint scent of Autumn in the air this morning.

The morning brings a quiet and gentle beginning to the day, untouched by the continuing perplexities of man.

Yes it is…all the same…at most times hard to believe when one watches the circus of life on MSM.

Bread and circuses, but we all know and recognise real life.

It has a colour and fragrance all of its own.

“The earth is a mosaic, and most fail to notice the gossamer tesserae floating down from the realm of the mind that form its images of beauty and horror.”
~ Lawren Leo

Like this:

The Art of Seduction

Like this:

A Life in the Country ~ Today at Bealtaine Cottage

A catless writer is almost inconceivable. It’s a perverse taste, really, since
it would be easier to write with a herd of buffalo in the room than even one
cat; they make nests in the notes and bite the end of the pen and walk on the
typewriter keys. ~Barbara Holland

I bought this painting recently, having been drawn towards it and virtually hypnotised into the purchase…it is old and evokes a sense of 1950’s rural Ireland…and one of my favourite authors wrote expansively about this time…Edna O’Brien.

Every
artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his
pictures. ~Henry Ward Beecher

There has never been a cat
Who couldn’t calm me down
By walking
slowly
Past my chair.
~Rod McKuen

History is a cyclic poem written by Time upon the memories of man. ~Percy
Bysshe Shelley

Today I went for a lovely, long walk, down in the old park around what was an ancient house by Lough Key. This is the old stable block as seen through the portcullis…

Like this:

The first week of July and there’s a feint scent of Autumn in the air this morning.

The morning brings a quiet and gentle beginning to the day, untouched by the continuing perplexities of man.

Yes it is…all the same…at most times hard to believe when one watches the circus of life on MSM.

“The earth is a mosaic, and most fail to notice the gossamer tesserae floating down from the realm of the mind that form its images of beauty and horror.” ~ Lawren Leo

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

A catless writer is almost inconceivable. It’s a perverse taste, really, since it would be easier to write with a herd of buffalo in the room than even one cat; they make nests in the notes and bite the end of the pen and walk on the typewriter keys. ~Barbara Holland

Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures. ~Henry Ward Beecher

There has never been a cat Who couldn’t calm me down By walking slowly Past my chair. ~Rod McKuen

History is a cyclic poem written by Time upon the memories of man. ~Percy Bysshe Shelley

Today I went for a lovely, long walk, down in the old park around what was an ancient house by Lough Key. This is the old stable block as seen through the portcullis…

Share this:

Like this:

“The earth is a mosaic, and most fail to notice the gossamer tesserae floating down from the realm of the mind that form its images of beauty and horror.”
~ Lawren Leo

A catless writer is almost inconceivable. It’s a perverse taste, really, since
it would be easier to write with a herd of buffalo in the room than even one
cat; they make nests in the notes and bite the end of the pen and walk on the
typewriter keys. ~Barbara Holland

Every
artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his
pictures. ~Henry Ward Beecher

There has never been a cat
Who couldn’t calm me down
By walking
slowly
Past my chair.
~Rod McKuen

History is a cyclic poem written by Time upon the memories of man. ~Percy
Bysshe Shelley