In honour of Nuala Flynn 1954-2019

A group of Salonista have been pursuing- dancing in– traversing Finnegans Wake since September 2017. Nuala Flynn joined us part way in– and brought with her a passion for dream scapes, Brigid, the Tuatha Dé Danann, the Rites of Tara, the mysteries and traditions of the old world– and her bubbling energy and compassion spread outwards, infusing our Wakian world.

How I will miss her– her laughter, her energy, her sense of wonder and her deep knowledge inspired us all and will continue to inspire our group. We will hold her there. Members of our group have done some beautiful writing in honour of Nuala.

Selections from Finnegans Wake Chpt. 8 (arrangement by Caroline Donnelly)

 

O

Tell me all about

Anna Livia! I want to hear all

About Anna Livia. Well, you know Anna Livia? Yes, of course, we all know Anna Livia

Ah, but she was the queer old skeowsha anyhow, Anna Livia, trinketoes!

Can’t hear with the waters of,

The chittering waters of,

Flittering bats, fieldmice,

Hawk, talk.

 

Ho! Are you not gone ahome?

What Thom Malone?

Can’t hear with hawk of bats,

All them liffeying waters of–

Ho, talk, save us!  My foos won’t moos.

I feel as old as yonder elm.

 

A tale told of Shaun and Shem?

All Livia’s daughter-sons,

Dark hawks hear us.

 

Night!  Night! My ho head halls,

I feel as heavy as yonder stone.

 

Tell me of John, or Shaun?

Who were Shaun and Shem

The living sons or daughters of?

 

Night now!

Tell me, tell me, tell me, elm!

Night night!

Tellmetell of stem or stone,

Beside the rivering waters of,

Hitherandthithering waters of,

Night.

Sonnet for Nuala 

by Maureen Diffley

NUALA

(Fionnuala, … Anna Lufio)

 

The small fruit cake cools on the hob.

It smells of being done and funeral rites

to come. I sit hollow-eared, and freighted,

listening for the echo of your voice,

that chuckle of your unruly take on life.

You unpick the thread of words, dense

beyond belief, recirculating Tara

tales spun before and after time, like river run.

I see the grey-green glint in your eye, now gone,

now here, inside me, forever flashing

cosmic prayers to commodious pantheons.

O maieutic diviner of words and dreams,

the book will be read, the cake slowly eaten,

suffused with grace-notes of your swan-song.

 

Maureen 06/01/2010  – Nollaig na mBan – Women’s Christmas

Thoughts of Nuala  by Toby 

Husky voiced excitement – striving to get at the meaning—to connect the myths of the old world to the chaos of this one

An electric exuberance that spread out from her

Steely and capricious

Dancing in late and offering gems from the Rites of Tara

She had so much more to say—and we had to keep her to the instrument of time

She would have taken more time and given back all our time.

On 24th of December, the 10 minute glass broke—because there is mystery in the world.

If I had thought, I might have recognised the sign—the sign of her leaving—of her taking time – and laughing it to pieces.

 

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