UNDER THE WILL… OVER THE DRAMA…

Tag: writing

  • Waking Up in a World Asleep…

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    Mae Faurel
    in

    by Mae Faurel. So I’m sitting here thinking about life. Not in some overly profound, incense-burning, yoga-on-a-mountain kind of way, just… quietly. Noticing how my thinking has shifted over the years. I guess I’ve always questioned things, even as a child. But that got me labeled difficult. Too curious. Too sharp. Too sensitive. “Why do…

  • Why We Only Get 12 Months….

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    Mae Faurel
    in

    Why We Only Get 12 Months, and Why That Might Be the Problem… You know what’s mad? As soon as July slips off the calendar, I feel a coldness creep in. Not just in the air, but somewhere deeper. Like something’s pulling away. The light goes a little thinner. The evenings arrive too early. And…

  • Fair Play to Finnegan…

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    Mae Faurel
    in

    Fair Play to Finnegan – Not All Heroes Wear Capes, Some Carry Spanners!… You know the saying, “blood is thicker than water”? Well, in Ireland, I’m starting to think tea is thicker than both, because when you’ve someone like Finnegan in your corner, who needs family drama? I grew up with Finnegan. He’s a few…

  • Happiness in Small, Weird, Glorious Doses…

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    Mae Faurel
    in

    Confession: I Actually Took the Time to Think about Writing This List… I know, I know… who does that?While the world burns and emails pile up, here I am, calmly listing 30 things that make me smile like an old Jack Russell in the sun.It started off as a joke. Then it got weirdly sincere.Next…

  • Granny Frass – The Milk Was Just the Excuse…

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    Mae Faurel
    in

    Messages From Beyond: The Milk Was Just the Excuse… So, you think you went to the shop for milk? Ha! Granny Frass says: “God doesn’t send you out for groceries, love. He sends you out to do His Errands.” That milk was nothing but a decoy. The real mission? To stand there, boots on the…

  • Emotional Tesco Express…

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    Mae Faurel
    in

    More Milk, More Messages (Apparently I’m the Drop-Off Point Now)… Earlier today, I wrote about the milk I didn’t expect to carry, handed to me by a woman at the petrol station who poured out her heart like it had been bottled up for years. I walked away holding more than a story. I was…

  • The Quiet That Saved Me…

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    Mae Faurel
    in

    It is funny how the word habit often gets a bad rap. We tend to think of it as something dull or mechanical, brushing teeth, checking emails, biting your nails. Something we do without thinking. But habits are much more than unconscious repetition. They’re patterns we carve into our days, grooves in time, and, over…

  • The Milk I Didn’t Expect to Carry…

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    by

    Mae Faurel
    in

    Was I Meant to Be There? Yesterday started like any ordinary Saturday on a long bank holiday weekend in Ireland. The charity shop closed early, and I stopped at the petrol station for milk. Simple, right? I’ve known the lady behind the counter for a few years. We usually share a quick laugh or some…

  • Spooned a Program, Swallowed a Question Mark…

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    Mae Faurel
    in

    Hmm… where do I even begin? I’m curious about everything. The state of the world? The real reason we’re here? Why are we born into families that trigger us like a faulty alarm system? And why, after all that, are we expected to pay bills and clap politely at weddings? I wonder… is this really…

  • Whispers from Another Century..

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    Mae Faurel
    in

    Missing a Time I Never Lived In… There’s a word for it, anemoia: nostalgia for an era you never experienced. A strange ache for something just out of reach. Not a memory, not exactly a dream… more like a whisper from somewhere just beyond the veil. For me, it often arrives in moments like the…