Authors note: As a 54 year old as an Irish woman, I am still suffering like many of my vintage from catholic guilt in many situations whether it is valid in reality or not. The following seven stories are an attempt to put the sins that were enshrined in my primary school education into perspective in 2023.
ENVY
Envy: A feeling of discontent or resentful longing aroused by someone else possessions, qualities or luck.
I am special and I have special guests that sit on me. I am shrouded by Moroccan blue paint, complete with blue legs and arm rests. I am wooden but offer comfort and tranquillity to all those who rest upon me. My location is at the back of a holiday home in west Cork, Skibbereen to be precise. I hear all sorts of confession, drama and declaration of never ending love. But in the main I compliment the retreat holiday home and facilitate a space where the holidaymakers can rest and soak up the west Cork breeze. To touch by seating upon me provides the said retreat residents with a view into an extravagant landscape, all that Mother Nature has to offer contained therein (the view).
In the main, I am one of God’s Creatures that is kind and caring. I commit no ill will to the said landscape except envy. That boundaries of the retreat are marked by trees tall in stature. Their presence filled with birds’ nests, squirrels and all kinds of instinct life. That tree gives life and grows as time passes. I have to wait for my said guests to make me complete, whereas the tree is always in constant motion. The tree can breathe can inhale carbon dioxide and exhale oxygen and in doing so save the planet (climate change). That dam tree has even been considered part of the lungs of Mother Nature’s earth. ‘Yes I envy that said tree’.
This morning (9am), about 10 feet up in the trees branches a new starling was born. The one born 3 weeks ago took its first flight into the unknown. Another wonder bestowed within the branches of the said tree, as I sit idly by. I just sit here doing nothing, seating pretty, but it is a pointless tedious life I lead. The new couple who have arrived for a weekend break away to capture some alone time before the imminent birth of their first child. The soon to be mother is due in four weeks’ time. I am still filled with envy for the said tree but take solace in the comfort I can offer the pregnant lady.
That afternoon (2pm) my envy died forever. Whilst sitting on the bench that pregnant ladies waters broke. I was happy to be soaked in same. The ambulance was called and she could not move from the bench (me). I now had the opportunity to assist a birth, just like the said tree and the birds’ nests. The owners, husband and dog all gathered round to marvel the support I provided as the lady screamed “ouch, arragh” and so forth. The husband held her hand, which she nearly broke in her torment. ‘The ambulance is 1 hour away’ the owner stated and then added ‘the district nurse will be here in 20 minutes’ in attempt to calm the situation. I tried to rock back and forth to ease the lady’s distress. The result of which was between contractions she breathed a sigh of relief. I was thrilled for once to be of some use. However, I was buckling under the pressure. The husband cried in despair ‘ the bench is about to give’. Almost immediately and by way of retort the district nurse who had just arrived took command of the situation. ‘She must not be moved, but can you assist your wife in getting her on all fours.’. ‘The bench thank god is wide enough and strong enough to hold her weight.’. Her voice contained a tone that soothed all involved, in particular the pregnant lady and me. I had not noticed the benefit of the width of my being (the bench. I at once was delighted with the confidence the District Nurse instilled in me.
(2.30pm) ‘I need towels, and hot water and a cool flannel’ even the dog relaxed at this well-known remedy for the birth of a child. The husband’s brow was furrowed with worry and anticipation. His hand sore from the vice like grip of his wife, whilst I was sore with the weight on my body(the bench). ‘One final push now’ The lady, with all her might yelled at the top of her voice the tree trying to get in on the action swayed his branches violently. But this was my moment to shine. Then as the waves of my envy washed out to sea forever, the baby was born. The District Nurse wrapped the baby in a towel, pressed the cool flannel against the lady’s forehead and we all noted the furtive cry of the new born. As the lady took her new born baby to her chest, remembering to release her grip on her husband’s hand, we all looked on in joy and wonder.
3pm the ambulance arrived and took both mother and child as a precaution to the nearest maternity hospital. The husband followed in his car. The owner, washed me, ‘yes there was still some hot water and towels’. My envy was replaced with gratitude, wonder and what new life can bring to me a simple bench. The tree can be the lungs of Mother Nature but I have found my vocation, my purpose and banished the envy forever. My purpose is to facilitate conversations between friends, lovers and even allow the dog to sit on me as he chews his bone. In the words of the infamous ‘Fianna Fail’ party ‘A lot done, more to do’,
GLUTTONY
The over-indulgence or lack of self-restraint in food and / or drink
I am a tree born and bred in a Mediterranean climate. I have ensured that as the lungs of mother earth I can synthesize the nutrients from carbon dioxide and my green chlorophyll pigment that I maintain a healthy lifestyle. I feed slowly and carefully to get the optimum from same to support my body top to bottom (roots up to my branches).
With the aid of my master at my base is a pathway of stone leading up to the ever-popular yellow fairy door. This has enthralled and excited many a childhood neighbour. But that was last summer. It is winter and I am in competition with an ivy plant that has sought out every crevice of my being. Put simply the ivy plant started small and I don’t mind sharing the space or food but he (the ivy) is a glutton. His addiction to food is never sated. Within a few short months he has twisted his body round every branch, every crevice, and worst of all my bark. The fairy door is lost under his foliage. But still he is sucking the life out of my source of water and nutrition. I cannot see a way forward as spring approaches. My branches are weak from a lack of food and the weight of the Ivy Plant is bending same to breaking point.
‘There is enough food for both of us’, I scream as the wind pushes against us both. ‘Death of both of us is only a month away, if you don’t stop feeding’. The birds in the nest at the top branch of my being, are terrified that they will all die without my support. The ivy is strangling their branch and weakening yet another part of my body. ‘You are selfish and exercise no self-restraint within the kingdom of Mother Nature’ I roared at the Ivy plant. He yelled back ‘I am hungry, I need food, I am a growing living plant’
March 17th, 2020, was the turning point for me, the birds and Ivy (the glutton). It was simple but painful for me in the end, one of my top branches snapped. Unfortunately, the nest smashed on the ground and the eggs therein were broken. Seeing the devastation that grief he had inflicted upon the young family of starlings the glutton was shocked into doing something to quench his thirst and his never-ending bottomless pit of a stomach.
Finally, he (Ivy plant) accepted he was addicted to food and needed help. The first two weeks of spring were though on the ivy but with the never-ending support my branches provided he realised he did not need to consume so much food. He noted I was able to support his body much better if he shared the food and water with me.
This new diet was a miracle for all of us who lived within my remit (the tree). However, some of his lower leaves fell away and died leaving the fairy door visible once more. We are all looking forward to a new life and the oxygen we generate together by consuming food and water in modest amounts. The Ivy and the birds know that too much off good thing is not always the answer.
GREED
Intense and selfish desire for something, especially wealth, power, or food
On this planet I (oil) exist in many forms, petrol, diesel, crude etc and the result of my presence and application instils greed on many of the inhabitants of same. My owners, from the sheiks in Arabia, the Texans in the US and the Russians I am the embodiment of their wealth and power. In the 70’s by restricting my supply my owners got rich and I plunged many a country throughout the world into a deep recession. Once more (2022) supply is limited and all the energy companies I feed are building large profit margins and inflicting untold poverty throughout the world.
Once extracted as per the picture above, I am a form of energy that heats and lights up all the homes throughout the world. My derivate petrol ensures that people can travel for work or leisure in their cars. Profits of Shell, Texaco and other companies have sky rocketed sating the greed of their shareholders. Another derivate aviation fuels cast a rainbow of enjoyment to thousands of holiday makers who travel to far flung destinations. Airline companies and their shareholders are making millions using the cost of my derivate (aviation fuel). Their greedy eyes looking at their share prices rise, their pockets lined with the cash they crave.
My masters do not care the effect of my ever spiralling costs on the consumer, as they are consumed themselves with greed. All the above said and duly noted that is far from the worst by product of my existence. The impact of my omissions on the ozone layer (climate change) which I witness daily as I am consumed leaves me to finally nurse a death wish. I can no longer tolerate the greed of my masters. I look to the wind farms and the solar panels to help banish my existence forever. My masters need to state their compulsion of greed on the new pollution free sources of power and forget the many millions they have made from my existence.
Unlike all the other seven deadly sins my death and subsequent extinction is the only solution that will present redemption and a happy ending to this story.
LUST
Strong sexual desire
I have remained in the one spot, rejected, abandoned and above all else without power for the last (6) six months. Why? I am a power adaptor with a (5) meter cable in length, round with four ‘eye’ sockets.
It is March and each morning as the sun rises, I watch the grass grow outside the window. Each weekend I wait for the sun to shine. However, even on St Patrick’s day it snowed. The reason for the above is I am in love with the Lawnmower. She is grey in colour with a long curly red power cable. Our connection is power. She glides through the lawn like a ballerina on an ice rink. She has a gentle purring voice as she slices and gathers each blade of grass. Together we make magic. Our love affair lasts from March to October each year.
As it grew dark that night I could sense the sun would shine tomorrow. As I opened my eyes the next morning, I could not believe the sight outside the window. The sun rays belted down on the lawn. Today was the start of our six month connection. I pulsed with anticipation without any electrical intervention. ‘Myself and my lover the lawnmower’ I sighed to myself. My master, ate breakfast, showered, and put on her gardening attire.
Unknown to me I was to meet a new silent lover that day. My master plugged me in, but placed me in the front garden beside the car and plugged me into the hoover. I would like to state at this juncture there was no connection with the hoover. I had been there and done that. But what we cleaned together was amazing, the car. The car had a body like no other, filled with curves, cervices and compartments which my electric pulse caressed. As a team (the hoover and I) did a stunning job? My new lover I thought definitely had a dazzling body.
As I was unplugged and looked through the glass pane of the door I couldn’t believe my eyes as I now lusted after the car. As for the lawnmower what can I say? Been there, done that.
PRIDE
Pride: a high or inordinate opinion of one’s own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct
I suffered with endless pride, to the extent that I cannot imagine a world without me. I am to others a humble stairwell but to me I consider myself the god of creativity. I am located in a writers retreat in West Cork near Skibbereen. Thirteen authors have paddled upstairs to write their now famous books. I consider I provide their pathway to imagination, creativity and endless plot lines that features in their many books, newspapers and TV Dramas
I remember the day I natured that feeling of pride, that was many years ago. The fist author to the writers retreat was John Connolly. I noted how on his arrival at the writers retreat, he instantly choose my room at the top of the stairwell for his chosen spot to write. As he took his many cigarette breaks from his writing, he obviously drew inspiration from my bottom step. The gateway to all creativity is guaranteed as his sole touched the same. The character of Charlie Parker was born. The second and third step planted Louis and Angel into words on the landscape of his many books. The remaining steps, provided him with the bedrock life story of Charlie Parker, his dead wife and daughter.
It was not John Connolly that created and drafted the above, these thoughts came from my steps, my iron banister and twirling frame. I realise know that I am in love with myself, that I am so busy thinking of my input into JC’s writing that I failed to notice, how he drafted the written pages, chapters, and eventual books.
Another famous author was here to edit her last book “A week in Winter”. I am so focussed on the fame she has quite rightly attained, that I am eager to pronounce her work as my own. My pride has enveloped my steps as almost a heavenly journey to her passing. I chastise myself now I was so full of self-love/importance I considered myself as a higher being.
I have now moved on from my days as being a victim of Pride, into a much more kind being. The writers retreat is no more. A Ukraine family moved into my residence. I was not happy about my new child proof stair gate installation. I was not happy about the constant noise interrupting the peace and tranquillity of the said residence, but slowly I came to appreciate life outside of myself. My true purpose, to facilitate the movement between upstairs and downstairs in the residence. The older children play on my steps using their own imaginative games. I am in awe and wonder of same. I now accept they are nothing to do with me. I am nothing but a facilitator.
What brought about this change you may ask? It was September 11th, 2022. On that day somehow unknown to the everlasting love of the Ukrainian mother, her two year old son mounted my frame and crawled up each my steps. I considered I was doing him a favour by opening the stair gate and teaching him how to climb. However, on the top step he fell and banged his head and body down to the bottom of my stairwell. The twists and turns of my frame did not help matters. His mother on hearing the said fall, rushed to her beloved youngest son. She had lived through missiles raining down on her home town, nights in bomb shelters, an arduous journey to protect her son and now was about to lose him all because of me and my self-importance.
I am no longer filled with self-importance (Pride) and pray daily that the child will make a full recovery. I leave the gate shut at all times and appreciate how fascinating real family life is. I am now selfless and at peace with my humble role in the house. I am the gateway to an ‘Upstairs and Downstairs’ of a loving family. This is my destiny the gateway to upstairs. I don’t need mystical characters, metaphors and words to fell self-satisfaction. My pride is gone forever.
SLOTH
Reluctance to work or make an effort – laziness
There is only twenty in my community contained in a somewhat small packet that my mistresses purchases on a daily basis. I am not cheap but to consume each and every member of my community instils two things, motivation and sloth (laziness) in my mistress. I am often procured at 8am, the most important vital sign in my mistress day. I motivate her to rise and rush to the car, then the garage and back home. Then she inhales, exhales and extinguishes yet another member of my community. In that 3 -4 minutes she enjoys simply doing nothing. My mistress has a rake of other things she could be doing but simply seems to be too lazy. So yes, I am the reason she makes an effort to get out of bed (motivation) but then I spoil it all by instilling that 3 – 4-minute gap in what could otherwise be a productive life.
In the main, I am accompanied by my partner in crime caffeine who may not be a deadly sin in its own right but prolongs that 3 – 4mins to possibly 10. My mistress is often tired and in order to face technology which she hates she will often inhale, exhale and extinguish another member of my community just to connect to the internet. The mistress working day is broken up into hourly segments so she can partake/consume another member of my community. So this is my function, in my mistress life a two tone arrow that shots bolts of motivation and laziness throughout her daily life.
My mistress has made several attempts to fight the attraction and solace my community (cigarettes) provides her with. She has stated loudly that this one or that is her final cigarette, but then she fails to eat and sleep. Her mind whirling longing for cigarettes and temper tantrum that no three-year-old could inflict on another human being. Without us (cigarettes) she is apathetic to life itself devoid of all motivation and lapses into long period of laziness.
However, the mistress held onto one unopened pack and finally banished my community forever. Why because she became pregnant. What got her through the pregnancy was the thought that she could open that pack again once the baby was born. Once she gave birth and looked down on the helpless bundle of joy her, actions and reactions were instantaneous. Motivation to look after the child’s every need pulsed through my mistress blood stream.
The mistress was able to banish the cigarettes (sloth) forever.
WRATH
Extreme Anger
To be me you need to shower wrath against my enemy. Bolts of assertive, behavioural, chronic, destructive, judgemental and sometimes when all that fails ‘plain old retaliatory anger’ against the enemy. I ‘Taser’ their small bodies (mosquitos) and kill them softly and in fact slowly with my fumes.
Put simply I am a spiral against their venom. I save my master, his nearest and dearest’s bare flesh against that said enemy. Unlit, when I burn out nestled between the railings of the balcony of the upper terrace I am at peace. But once lit I am a nucleus of wrath (anger). My wrath is short as my spiral and fumes last only an hour but my strength against the enemy is off the Richter scale. But when all anger is burnt, my ashes are kind and caring.
I am torn by the level of destruction I have caused to the enemy and the satisfaction of saving my master’s flesh. They maybe mosquitos but they are part of this planet to. As my ashes sit in the bin, with the bodies of mosquitos I have mutilated I think, I know we the spirals, the fumes that emanates from us and my master who purchases us are wrong. There has to be another way. In short, my spirit whirls around the bin and notices the mosquito repellent beside the bin. My spirit longs for that to work to deaden the wrath we bestow on the mosquito. But it consistently fails to deliver. It just does not have my wrath (anger).
I implore the god of kindness as I meet him at the pearly gates to genetically modify the said mosquito to become vegetarian and change me communities’ mission to be as made ornamental (maybe even a fashion statement). As I burn in a painful hell, I no longer cast a shadow of wrath but instead that of inspiration to the scientific community. I know one day me and the mosquito will be born again to live side by side as we do now in hell, due to the pain and suffering, we have caused to each other and not to mention the human flesh.
Alas despite many attempts to ghost the scientific community to grant my simple wish, they were busy developing the Covid 19 vaccine. However, I mounted the steps to the pearly gates once more. This time I made an appointment with the ultimate inventor who lives up there now Mc Fly. I presented my solution to him. Put simply the wrath I bestowed in life is gone forever and with the help of My Fly I did not have to exit the said pearly gates
InkSplinters 
One thought on “Dante’s seven deadly sins – an OBJECTive view By Fiona Deaton”