How close is near?

How distant far?

How large is big?

How small we are?

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Sometimes it can help to step well back and view our situation from a distance. A vast distance!

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Around a pond, I wheeled a pram,

Sat with my child, who is now a man.

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I sat on a bench by the pond in the castle garden, almost 20 years ago. 12 years ago I sat by the bed of our 2 boys. I would make up stories relating to the pond and the garden, and the magical wildlife within. ​2 years ago, when I received some disturbing news, I returned to the bench and started to sketch some ideas for my book. I needed this distraction.

Many years ago, my father gave me a book, about a man who was an engineer and an artist.

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Leonardo has always fascinated me for many reasons. We are so privileged to have his notebooks. I often thought that the curious sketches and notes of people can be at least as interesting as their works of art.

Leonardo influenced the design of LEO, particularly with regard to the old man sketching his thoughts after each meeting. These sketches were fun for me. Some casual thoughts that may or may not be significant for those in search of glory!

"You wash the dishes, to be washing the dishes." That line encapsulates Buddhist philosophy. Which is the philosophy of life.

My own school system promoted working hard. I was a good student in primary school. But I saw friends who struggled. Some terrified young children, getting lashed with bamboo canes and leather straps, in Scoil Mhuire, Newbridge, and Saint Johns, in Sligo. At a very young age a child can see that an adult in authority may be damaged and evil. But they cannot react. I think that it is good for every child to know this, and that is is okay to listen to their hearts.

I think of how well my own children were educated through care and kindness here in Czech, without a bible in one hand and a cane in the other.

Through life I learned how to work and manage my time well, but I never learned this in school. I hope that this chapter helps some children. There really is more to life than work.

Friends are everything that make life worth living. This includes family, acquaintances old and new, and of course pets.

Many powerful people with weak character, surround themselves with loyalists, not with friends. With a true friend you can argue and laugh and joke. A child just needs one good friend, and then life will be good. Popularity is nothing, friendship is everything. I thought that this would be a helpful message for any child. 

Friends have pulled me through very tough times. Visits with Bruno and Drew, calls from Eamonn, regular chats with Donal and Fionn. And always my family. Friends are everything!

My wife Lucie, is a restorer of old books and manuscripts. She works in the Cistercian Cloister with its magnificent historical library, surrounded by many 10s of 1000s of ancient texts.

In older times, people wrote on sheets of paper, or scrolls. In some places the sheets were bound together to form a codex.

Later some monks covered these codex with thin layers of wood. Beech wood was most suitable. The Czech word for beech, is buk. Hence we have the word book.

Our history is hidden in our language. The Irish language also contains many clues to our past.

Here I am the greatest man!

I always wondered why society celebrates powerful people. They are often the most flawed among us. Greed, ego, narcissism, - all drive people to positions of power. But sometimes we do elect people with good character, - Mandela, Havel, Higgins. For them humility is a virtue.

Beware the leaders who want to expand their power and dominion. History shows that weak people will follow them. Might is rarely right! At least in my book anyway.

During years of frustration, as I struggled with chronic spine injuries, I could not sleep. I would get out of bed at midnight and sit for hours in the kitchen. I lost the use of my right hand, so I could no longer paint. But I would manage to crudely scribble some notes in old notebooks to help get dark thoughts out of my mind. Chronic pain moves from the body to the mind. Eventually one does not want to wake up. I was demented with pain. This story originates from these dark times. I wrote this during better days, when medication brought nights of rest and healed my damaged mind. It was also guided by discussions relating to a friend who was struggling at the time. Listen to Sir Fry!

Schools reward the academics among us. But good schools also identify the strengths in each child and help to guide those children to do what they can, and what they are interested in. Why do we celebrate those who are born with advantages of wealth, position, health, and academic intelligence? Children should learn to celebrate virtue and kindness. Otherwise we will put the least suitable people in positions of control.

Some people who struggle with learning, have helped me to get me through my darkest days. Hang on, hang on!

When I worked overseas, I had many invites to make my fortune through businesses which would exploit my connections and experience. I should be proud that I turned my back on these and only worked for good agencies. However, when I could not work, and bills were draining my account, I wondered if I had made the wrong decision. I hadn't. Rabbit or super-yacht??

I always loved to travel, as did my brother and my father. What we shared was an interest in other places and their people, and cultures. 

When I see visitors, in Ireland and in Czech, I feel grateful that they chose to visit and I hope that he have a wonderful time. But some people are afraid of different cultures. In my book, this fear is based on ignorance. 

I know many Irish people who live in foreign lands, but who look on those who look different, as being intruders. I always find this interesting. An Irish person can travel to England, the States, France, Australia and Czech, and see people with darker skin as immigrants, but not themselves. Why is this? A third generation person from Bangladesh, living in London, is an intruder, - but not an Irish person who arrives off the boat. I will tell you. This is racism!

​As a young child, lets say 6, I believed what adults told me to believe. So God creating the world, Adam and Eve, Saint Patrick and snakes, The Shroud of Turin, wine transforming into blood, gay people are evil, etc , etc, etc. I really believed these things. Why not? I was told that they were true.

But, because I was curious, these ideas always troubled me. Surely my relatives, my schools, and my perfect priests, couldn't all be lying to me. Surely they can't all really believe these things.

I respect peoples right to believe anything they wish. But if they insist on filling young minds with their deluded thoughts, then I am proud to give another point of view. I only invite everyone to think. Be curious!

I always loved animals. Not as objects. But as friends. If you do not understand this, then we are simply different. But some people will understand.

A few early memories shocked me.  One memory involved my young school mates. They found a hare that ran terrified around the school play area. They turned into a crazy mob. They surrounded the terrified animal and kicked it to death. I felt as though I was the only one who was kicking out at the mob. This memory still amazes me. It tells me so much about others.

I don't eat meat because animals are horrifically treated to feed us. It is not necessary. You are either part of the problem or not. You are free to judge me for my beliefs, because I also judge you. This story deals with my thoughts, and I hope that it gives people the courage to be empathetic in a world which does not always encourage empathy.

I have always loved drawing and painting. Some people can write, or sing, or play sports. And some like to draw. 

But I am a cynic. I find the entire art establishment amusing, and, as my story explains, hypocritical. I listen to curators, and professors, and TV personalities, tell us what to think about an artist or a painting. Here is an idea. Just listen to the artist, and like what you like! Draw what you like. B U.

As a man who preached about love and kindness, Jesus is certainly cool. But don't be fooled into believing that members of any religious group have any ownership of Jesus. 

I grew up as a Roman Catholic. I spent my Summers in Northern Ireland, where politicians, and some clergy, used religion as a way to hate other groups. Shame! My aunt, who lived there, often discussed this with me

But I am also guilty of hate. I hate cruelty. I hate bigots. I hate any organisation which amuses itself by making women, or atheists, or gay or trans people feel inferior. Or feel like sinners.

I hope my book gives young people the courage to be more kind than their peers and their society.

And not to be afraid. or to feel guilty, to be themselves.

The greatest mystery of all.

I wrote this book based on many old scribbled notes, which provided some thoughts for much of the stories. But this story, I wrote last. I sent all stories for my father to read. He read this in his last month. He liked it. It contains one of his poems which is written in our native Irish language. This was the first language which he spoke.

I was also influenced by my own terminal diagnosis. This certainly helps one to see the world with a different mindset and priorities. This is one of the few advantages.

And I do not fear death. Ask LEO. He understands everything!

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