• Home
  • Travel
  • Life Style
    • Category
    • Category
    • Category
  • About
  • Contact
  • Download

Geraldine Buckley

facebook google twitter tumblr instagram linkedin

This was written on New Years Eve 2019 - although it is being posted on the first day of 2020. 


The last day of the year, of the decade is here. A friend told me recently that our lives change incredibly every ten years. It has certainly been true in my life. The pivotal highlights of each of my last decades are arriving in a Northern England hospital; going off to my beloved English convent boarding school; moving to Texas to work for Lady Bird Johnson’s radio station; falling irrevocably in love with Jesus in a large London church, starting their Creative Ministries Department, then moving back to America to do my masters degree; my prison chaplain years; followed by a decade of Storytelling. They are the hooks on which the joys and sorrows of each ten years are hung.  
To finish out this decade and until August I’m working in my local hospital as a Resident Chaplain. Just today I’ve comforted a woman about to lose her second husband, laughed uproariously with septuagenarian identical twins who regaled me with tales of people confusing them over the years; and prayed, at different times, with a couple of people who were terrified by an upcoming medical procedure. All that, and much more, before lunch. Each day is dramatically different. You never know what it will bring - except for fascinating stories that I’m weaving into a new Storytelling show - “Chaplain Geraldine rides again!”
It is a good way to round out the last extraordinary decade!
Whatever your last decades have brought you, may this new one be full of hope, light, grace, and love. 
For all of us. 
May we all have the courage to overcome our fears, and become all we were created to be. May we become the fullness of our true selves - and accept and love who we are. Finally. 
May we live out the rest of our days fully alive. And may the love and grace that we discover within us spill out and one by one change our world. 
And how do we get from here to there?
Ah! I’m glad you asked. 
For it is now to the part of this day where I can’t help myself!  
Every New Year’s Eve I post the the same poem. No matter what is happening in my life, the country, and the
nations, I find it to be relevant, comforting, and inspiring. And so have many other people over the years. 
In the dark, uncertain days at the end of 1939 after Britain had declared war on Germany, King George V1 quoted the poem in his Christmas speech to the Empire. (It was taken from a longer work called "God Knows" penned by an academic turned missionary, Minnie Louise Haskins in 1908. More recently, the words were spoken at the Queen Mother's funeral in 2002.)
"And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
"Give me a light, that I may tread safely into the unknown!"
And he replied:
"Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way"
In this coming year, and decade, through the loving power of the Ancient of Days, may hurting hearts be healed.  May long-awaited promises be fulfilled.  May hope push out despair.  May we dance often, and with passion. And may new doors of heart-soaring opportunity be flung open for all of us.  Amen!
Happy, healthy, prosperous New Year and New Decade to all my family and friends.
Share
Tweet
Pin
Share
No comments

Six years ago today I went in to Rimutaka Prison near Wellington in New Zealand. I was on a four week tour starting in Invercargill on the South Island, where I performed in concerts and schools for ten days with fellow Storyteller Bill Harley. Then I set off to explore the magnificent country of “The Long White Cloud”. 

My time in Rimutaka, the largest men’s prison in New Zealand is a treasured experience. I didn’t write a blog post about it st the time, but I did write a Facebook entry.  I would like to share that with you today. 

 

May 22, 2013

 

Yesterday I went into Rimutaka men's prison with Hermione to do two storytelling/writing workshops.  They were both in the Drug Rehabilitation Unit - a therapeutic community where men stay six months - they were about to graduate from the intensive program (although a few of the next batch were already there,)  The first group were the "protection" prisoners (In the US - segregated) and the group after lunch were general population.
What an amazing experience.  The first group of men greeted us with a Maori welcome, ushering us into their home with prayers and songs, a song was sung by our group as a thanks. A beautiful, ritualized welcome - and then the workshop began.  The men told anecdotes, did writing exercises, - which they threw themselves into -and then told deeper stories that were delightful!  They really engaged with the process and the  therapeutic staff were deeply impressed  at the way the men responded.
The therapeutic staff gave us lunch behind the bars - oh my!  I had been expecting prison food and was flinching at the thought - but this was a magnificent feast cooked and brought in by those lovely staff!  Vegetable curry and rice, chick pea patties with a mint and chili dipping sauce that was only just this side of heaven, cream cheese and smoked salmon on baguettes, mouthwatering pineapple and lemon cake, traditional Kiwi cream buns......  Such delightful and delicious extravagance.  We were utterly spoiled!
Back into the main compound to do the second workshop.  Again we were greeted with the impressive, wonderful ritualized welcome. This group, was far more vocal, high energy and at times difficult to corral - but once they got into the process  they loved it and really connected.  The staff was amazed that in that constantly noisy place, silence descended for ten whole minutes while men did the writing exercise (New Zealand has one of the highest literacy rates in the world) - amazed is not the right word.  Blown away would be more correct!  And then the men shared stories that made us laugh and think - and understand...  Hermione was fabulous as always, handing out paper and showing off story starters as though these tough guys were her neighbors.  At the end of the workshop I thanked all the men - and I thought that was it.  But no!  They had a present for me.  Instead of only a ritualized spoken thanks - they performed a haka - an incredible honor.  To say I was moved was a total understatement - I was grateful, and profoundly touched and very humbled that they would extend that measure of respect. And it was magnificent!  My great thanks to Richard, Jacqui and Iona of Arts Access for arranging the visit.
Home to Judith and Tony's glorious pad overlooking the sound set for the movie "Lord of the Rings," and a dinner for all the local storytellers.
 
So we ended the evening with another feast, and shared stories around the fire.  
Bliss!  
A day that will live on in my mind for years
Share
Tweet
Pin
Share
No comments

I have had the most extraordinary day.

I was booked by a Storytelling Festival committee in Oak Ridge, Tennessee to pioneer a new program for their City’s school system. They have a special school within a school called the Secret Academy for children who are failing both educationally and at life, often because of very disruptive home situations. The young people frequently get into trouble because of adverse reactions to those pressures. These are the kids who never have recitals or concerts for their adults to attend because they never take part in those kind of programs.
The incredibly kind and caring Storytellers and Educators in the City decided to change that paradigm. They hired me hold a concert for 6th through 10th graders consisting of personal stories that the students had developed that day - quite a challenge!
Starting at 8.00am I taught a three hour workshop followed by brief lunch and an afternoon workshop. Then we gathered together for a quick dress rehearsal before the concert. 

It was a magic - if exhausting day!
The headmaster was amazed at what went on in the workshops leading up to the concert. The students, who usually have short attention spans were fully engaged in the story exercises and the preliminary sharing of stories. They then developed their main stories, told them to each other and then told them to the class. He let me know afterwards that some of the students that got up in front of their peers and shared personal stories never usually open their mouths in class. He was astounded to see how they participated. 
There were heart-rending stories, hilarious stories, and stories that made you wonder how these young people had survived. And those stories worked their magic. The bonding, support, and understanding that grew and then flowed in those workshops was palpable. 
The Storytelling Committee organized and sponsored a hearty pasta dinner before the evening concert. Not all the students could make it back to school in the evening, but the ones who did were excellent. We supplemented their tales with stories from a teacher and the headmaster. Both who did a  fabulous job. And I rounded out the day with some of my stories.
The Storytellers and Educators were all thrilled with the result. And I sloped off at the end of the event exhausted but exhilarated, once again amazed at the power of story to touch and transform lives. 
Share
Tweet
Pin
Share
No comments

 (Written on Saturday May 4th 2019.  Posted on Sunday 5th.

I am on an 18 day Storytelling tour...)
I have had an incredible day that overflowed with learning, laughter, and superb company. I am staying with Janice Del Negro and her wonderful husband Paul outside Chicago. Janice is a full professor at Dominican University and this weekend she was teaching an eight hour, two day, PhD seminar on Literacy and Learning to a group who are in the Doctoral program for Library and Information Science. She allowed me to sit in on today’s segment and it was absolutely fascinating. Janice is a brilliant teacher. She knows how to draw the best out of students, challenges them to think, and gives them new ways to ponder old paradigms. Indeed the class was so fascinating that it was hard to not drop all my plans and commitments and join the program. I was sorely tempted- but resisted. 
At the end of the day we went to a Storyteller’s potluck dinner hosted by Storyteller Anne Shimojima and her fabulous, fascinating photographer husband, Johnathan. Beth Horner - who is not only a superb Storyteller but is a brilliant teacher and taught one of the best Storytelling workshops I’ve ever attended, was there with her beau, Ron. Brilliant Susan O'Halloran arrived with her adorable pooch, Amber, and Marie Ringenberg was not far behind. Marie is a new-to-me friend - but a seasoned teller of tales. Everyone brought food - and stories! Oh the laughter, wisdom, more hilarity, and then more stories that flowed around that table!  It was glorious! Storytellers and firm friends of many year’s standing reveling in being together. Glory!  What a day. 
Early tomorrow morning I turn my car towards Tennessee. But tonight I am basking in the memories of a day that shone with blessings. Thank you Lord!

I have had an incredible day that overflowed with learning, laughter, and superb company. I am staying with Janice Del Negro and her wonderful husband Paul outside Chicago. Janice is a full professor at Dominican University and this weekend she was teaching an eight hour, two day, PhD seminar on Literacy and Learning to a group who are in the Doctoral program for Library and Information Science. She allowed me to sit in on today’s segment and it was absolutely fascinating. Janice is a brilliant teacher. She knows how to draw the best out of students, challenges them to think, and gives them new ways to ponder old paradigms. Indeed the class was so fascinating that it was hard to not drop all my plans and commitments and join the program. I was sorely tempted- but resisted. 
At the end of the day we went to a Storyteller’s potluck dinner hosted by Storyteller Anne Shimojima and her fabulous, fascinating photographer husband, Johnathan. Beth Horner - who is not only a superb Storyteller but is a brilliant teacher and taught one of the best Storytelling workshops I’ve ever attended, was there with her beau, Ron. Brilliant Susan O'Halloran arrived with her adorable pooch, Amber, and Marie Ringenberg was not far behind. Marie is a new-to-me friend - but a seasoned teller of tales. Everyone brought food - and stories! Oh the laughter, wisdom, more hilarity, and then more stories that flowed around that table!  It was glorious! Storytellers and firm friends of many year’s standing reveling in being together. Glory!  What a day. 
Early tomorrow morning I turn my car towards Tennessee. But tonight I am basking in the memories of a day that shone with blessings. Thank you Lord!

Share
Tweet
Pin
Share
No comments

I remember the first time anyone ever wished me Happy Mother's Day. It was twelve years ago. At the end of a service where I preached, in a church behind the razor wire, 240 convicted felons stood up and in unison proclaimed "Happy Mother's Day" and my heart melted. The same thing happened at the end of the next service. Those big burly men, who were missing their own mothers, have no idea how much that meant to this woman who never bore a child and yet spiritually mothered many.

Three years later I became the Protestant chaplain at that same prison and those men became my sons. Around that time someone who hadn't seen me for years asked my brother how many children I had. His response was " she has boys, 2,700 of them. She's a very prolific breeder!"

After becoming the chaplain, every Mother's Day until I left, those men made me cards that dozens signed and that I proudly displayed in my office. Each one touched my heart and were symbols of God's incredible grace and love. In the middle of that dark, cold, hard place they needed a mother and I needed sons. I have never viewed Mother's Day in the same way since.

So to all the women who have never borne children but who have cared for another woman's either spiritually or physically. To all the mothers whose children cannot be with you because of distance, death, or incarceration. To all the women whose heart aches amid the day's festivities. May this day be filled with supernatural love and grace. And may this Mother's Day, and all the ones to come in your future, miraculously turn out to be happy. Amen.

Share
Tweet
Pin
Share
No comments

Such fabulous news!  For years people have been talking about starting an annual storytelling festival within the Washington DC metro area - but despite brave, indeed brilliant, attempts it has never happened - until now!  I am thrilled to announce the First Annual Capitol Area Storytelling Festival that will be held November 13th and 14th 2015, at Washington ArtWorks in Rockville, MD

The tellers are Donald Davis - the first time he has performed in the DC area for several years.  Thank goodness we have wooed him back!; Geraldine Buckley ​(me!); Sheila Arnold Jones​ - fresh from being a New Voice Featured Teller at the National Storytelling Festival; Dr. Mike Lockett​ - straight off the plane from what is sure to be yet another highly acclaimed storytelling trip through Taiwan and China; and Anne Thomas​ - winner of the second Jonesborough Story Slam competition, and heard on The Moth and other storytelling podcasts.

There will be stories for children; stories for adults; true tales; folk tales; tall tales; tales with music; tales with singing; hilarious tales; thoughtful tales; life-changing stories.  As well as all that there will be Anne's one woman show; and a late night story slam with lucrative cash prizes. 

I am so excited!

Let me tell you how it came about.  Washington ArtWorks is a fabulously creative nonprofit organization that houses 56 visual artists, and the Washington School of Photography.  After I talked with them, they agreed that adding a storytelling component would be a perfect fit as it will harness a third type of image: pictures that are heard.  So they asked me to organize an annual festival; and an ongoing storytelling school that will come under my new company Story Speak.  Be still my beating heart!

I used to be an events director at the largest PR agency in London, England.  I am a storyteller and communicator who loves to perform, but who also genuinely loves to teach others. I am beyond delighted that these different streams of my life are flowing together in a new way.

There are dreams to have a regular storytelling show highlighting local storytellers as well as concerts and workshops with nationally known names.  There are dreams to give pro bono workshops for groups who are marginalized, but whose stories need to be heard; and to use stories to help prevent young people being incarcerated.  (My prison chaplain's hat is never far from my head.)  These are dreams for the future.  Hopefully the not too far distant future.

For the moment there are definite plans to have story workshops for beginners; a series of classes for those who want a deeper knowledge of storytelling including creating and polishing stories; and workshops aimed at harnessing the power of storytelling for nonprofits and businesses.  I am talking to several excellent teachers who are excited to be part of this endeavor.

Our first classes start this September.  I will be posting more information in the next few days.  But for now, bookmark November 13th and 14th; plan to be at the festival; and then rejoice with me!

Share
Tweet
Pin
Share
No comments

It is strange how life and literature sometimes flow in parallel.

It is exactly three years since I left my job as the Protestant Chaplain at the Maryland Correctional Training Center (MCTC) the largest mens' prison in Maryland.

I am reliving those days in great detail as I revise and tweak my new storytelling show “Tea in The Slammer” which takes an in-depth look at my time behind the bars and how I discovered a new use for my tea-making skills.

This afternoon I took a break from the editing and picked up a poetry book that was part of a set that my niece had given me. It was the selected works of Oscar Wilde. Once again I was riveted by his “Ballad of Reading Gaol” that I hadn’t read for many years.  It is based on Wilde’s own two-year incarceration with hard labor, completed in the closing years of the Nineteenth Century. 

I meant to read something frothy but I was drawn to this, his final work. This time the words took on new meaning in the light of my own time behind the bars.

One strand of the poem is about the execution of a man who murdered his wife for her infidelity.  After finding him guilty, the judge gave him three weeks to live.

English Victorian prisons were notoriously harsh – a world away from their 21st Century American equivalent - but I was transported back to the men that I knew at MCTC with the words:

"I never saw a man who looked

  With such a wistful eye

Upon that little tent of blue

  That prisoners call the sky.

And at every drifting cloud that went

  With sails of silver by."

No matter what century, no one relishes freedom more than those who have lost it.

On the day of his execution, while still alive, the man in Wilde’s poem is read the rite of burial.  After the hanging he is interred naked but still in shackles.  It was that last detail that struck me as particularly punitive.

Shaking off the sadness surrounding the death of a man that happened close to a hundred and twenty years ago, I went for a long walk on the path behind my house that winds besides a brook.  An enthusiastic, handsome St. Bernard bounded past me followed by his young owner.

I long to have a dog, but it’s not the right season in my life and so I scratch the itch by volunteering at my local animal shelter, writing the dogs' bios for the organization’s website in the hope of the pooches finding their perfect forever home.  I am conscious of the irony of downsizing from incarcerated men to cooped-up canines – but one spin-off is that I’m more aware of dog breeds.  And this St. Bernard was a beauty!

I struck up a dog-oriented conversation with the young man who encouraged his clearly beloved seven-year-old pet to come over and greet me.  And then he told me that he had found out yesterday that the dog has cancer.  His whole body started to shake gently as he held back tears. 
“He has three weeks.  So ‘till then I’m just going to let him do whatever he wants.” 

And the two friends carried on up the trail.

I was saddened by the dogs impending demise but amazed by the parallel.

Three weeks to live.

It might mean nothing – this melding of life and literature, pooches and prisons – or it might mean that a story is coming knocking wanting to be told.

Just in case it’s the latter, I’m listening.

Listening hard.

Share
Tweet
Pin
Share
No comments
Newer Posts
Older Posts

About me

About Me


Aenean sollicitudin, lorem quis bibendum auctor, nisi elit consequat ipsum, nec sagittis sem nibh id elit. Duis sed odio sit amet nibh vulputate.

Follow Us

Labels

21st Century Skills 72 Film Fest Adam Booth American Library Association Conference Andy Offut Irwin Anne B. Thomas At The Gate Of The Year Beat Boxing Bil Lepp Bill Harley Blue Sky Puppet Theatre Bob Tryanski BrandyWine Storytelling Festival Brian Bemel Camen Deedy Capitol Area Storytelling Festival Cathy Fink and Marcy Marxer Connectivity Group Deepwater Theatre Donald Davis Doug Elliot Dr. Mike Lockett Drunk Nuns Sober Spirits and other Storytelling Misadventures Ed Stivender Elizabeth Ellis Ellie Shinham Eth-Noh-Tec Frederick News Post Fredonia Opera House Geraldine Buckley Head Bone Rattles Invercargill Jane Dorfman Jason Gelt Jeff Manion Joe Hayes Joel ben Izzy Jonesborough Storytelling Festival Kathryn Windham Kim Weitkamp Linda Martin Little Sylvia Seagull Liz Miller Lower Brandywine Storytelling Festival Lower Willy Caflin Lyn Ford Maryland Correctional Training Center Maryland Storytelling Summit MCTC Michael Parent Michael Reno Harell Milbre Burch National Storytelling Festival New Zealand Noa Baum Ocracoke Island Ojai Storytelling Festival Oscar Wilde Patti Lyons Puppets Redeemer International Family Church Scott Day Band Sheila Arnold Slash Coleman Southern Ohio Storytelling Southern Ohio Storytelling Festival SpeakeasyDC Stephani Garibaldi Steven Spielberg's Duel Story Slam Storytelling Suzi Whaples TAI Tea In The Slammer Teaching Artist Institute The Griots' Circle of Maryland The Polar Express Waiting for Superman Washington Folk Festival Willow Creek Global Leadership Summit Wish

recent posts

Blog Archive

  • ▼  2020 (44)
    • ▼  August (5)
      • Pandemic Parables: Epilogue
      • Pandemic Parables: Finished
      • Pandemic Parables: Retrospection
      • Pandemic Parables: Sounds
      • Pandemic Parables: Exploring
    • ►  July (6)
    • ►  June (8)
    • ►  May (10)
    • ►  April (9)
    • ►  March (5)
    • ►  January (1)
  • ►  2019 (3)
    • ►  May (3)
  • ►  2017 (1)
    • ►  May (1)
  • ►  2015 (1)
    • ►  July (1)
  • ►  2013 (1)
    • ►  January (1)
  • ►  2012 (3)
    • ►  December (1)
    • ►  June (1)
    • ►  May (1)
  • ►  2011 (6)
    • ►  September (4)
    • ►  August (1)
    • ►  March (1)
  • ►  2010 (16)
    • ►  December (3)
    • ►  October (1)
    • ►  September (1)
    • ►  August (1)
    • ►  July (7)
    • ►  June (3)
FOLLOW ME @INSTAGRAM