It has been almost two months since we returned from Ireland. The scents, the taste of the food, the hearing of accents - foreign and native - still hang heavy in my mind. One other thing hangs heavy, as well, and that is the deep feeling of leaving something behind. It simply just feels like something of me is still there.
Perhaps, most likely my own delusions, it is the friends I have left. Maybe they are thinking of me, like I of them, and hoping us well. I would like to think that but it just does not seem to fit the hole.
I have tried to write it out, sing it out, prose it out and nothing has helped, I seem to be destined to loose that part of me there. I go to edit recordings and audio, only to watch and tear up remembering how we all laughed, or how long a hike it was to get to that "old ruined" tower. I remember the cold nights, with the wind howling its nightly song, and I remember the early mornings of waking up and wishing her a good morning while wiping the dew over my forehead.
And I cannot but see the world in such a different light now. So many of the problems we learned about one ethnicity having been forced upon by others, having occurred many times to other ethnic groups. It would seem that there is an overabundance of "hate" in this world to last through several cycles of life.
It doesn't keep me up at night. But it does keep me paralyzed to some level, and I am not sure I like that. What does one do to overcome the established set of blockades and limits? What indeed.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The Return
I awoke this morning feeling disoriented and lost. The sun was barely peaking out when my internal Irish clock went off, signaling I had overslept and it was now noon. This is going to be a long few days of returning for me.
As I stood outside and greeted the day, like I used to in Ireland, I looked around my familiar setting. Birds, of various types, singing in the trees, the quiet discourse of the morning schedule interrupted by the tranquil stillness of Cooper's Glen, and the whole thought of was it just a dream?
We left the hotel The Temple Bar at an early 9 a.m. getting to the bus stop just as it pulled up, stood on the bus, as it was packed from worried travelers, and began our 24 hour journey home. Dublin Airport was a madhouse, we thought we'd have at least some area to sit in, but the place they put us - along with all the misplaced travelers - was a basement section of the airport where they attempted to beat a World Guinness Record of just how many Americans can you cram into a tiny airport space.
We ran into one classmate who had been the victim of the volcano burping and he was just as happy as us to be flying home. By the time our flight was boarding, there was a completely filled plane, and it was half-full when we flew in the first time.
We then got delayed, which caused an immediate rush of complaints and grumbles - including from myself - of which was quieted down after we actually boarded. Once in the air we all began to settle down and felt our spirits soar. It would be an 8 hour flight to Chicago and then a layover.
We arrived late into Chicago, leaving us with only an hour and a half to check our luggage in, scramble to the other side of the airport and for me to have a quick smoke. Once we actually got to the gate we found we were immediately boarding and another sigh of relief escaped our mouths. So close I kept chanting.
Once in the air I could feel my thoughts begin to try and decipher the last six weeks of my life. How the hell am I going to be able to put this all down in a coherent piece?
The stories, the experiences and the links I have seen throughout my time in Ireland is amazing and so rampant. All throughout the last leg of our journey I kept looking at my wife and thanking Brigid we were on our way home to family and friends. Mostly thanking Brigid for not letting that volcano hold us up any longer.
We stepped off the plane 40 minutes early, grabbed our luggage, met our wonderful niece and drove to Taco Bell. Our first meal was one of savory taco meat and taco condiments of which we suddenly felt a deep thankfulness that we could actually do that - at any time or day - and without having to drive to another city.
How strange that feels. How alien it was to be in America once again after being gone for so long. We drove on what we call normal roads, we can go shopping in what we call normal stores and we can do things later than in most towns and parishes of Ireland. It leaves one wondering of it all.
How strange it is to see so many stores,
from where we came there was but a few,
and even less open on a daily basis,
How Strange it is as I awake to different sounds,
no lambs baying in the distance,
no ocean waves to be heard,
How strange is it to be able to drive again,
on the right side of the road,
to have stop lights instead of round-abouts,
How strange it is to walk outside of my bedroom door,
not hearing the daily clatter of friends,
or the midnight door slams,
How strange it is to notice the differences,
to feel so comfortable,
and yet so far away,
How strange is it to have left something behind,
feeling like you haven't really come home,
and yet knowing when you are.
As I stood outside and greeted the day, like I used to in Ireland, I looked around my familiar setting. Birds, of various types, singing in the trees, the quiet discourse of the morning schedule interrupted by the tranquil stillness of Cooper's Glen, and the whole thought of was it just a dream?
We left the hotel The Temple Bar at an early 9 a.m. getting to the bus stop just as it pulled up, stood on the bus, as it was packed from worried travelers, and began our 24 hour journey home. Dublin Airport was a madhouse, we thought we'd have at least some area to sit in, but the place they put us - along with all the misplaced travelers - was a basement section of the airport where they attempted to beat a World Guinness Record of just how many Americans can you cram into a tiny airport space.
We ran into one classmate who had been the victim of the volcano burping and he was just as happy as us to be flying home. By the time our flight was boarding, there was a completely filled plane, and it was half-full when we flew in the first time.
We then got delayed, which caused an immediate rush of complaints and grumbles - including from myself - of which was quieted down after we actually boarded. Once in the air we all began to settle down and felt our spirits soar. It would be an 8 hour flight to Chicago and then a layover.
We arrived late into Chicago, leaving us with only an hour and a half to check our luggage in, scramble to the other side of the airport and for me to have a quick smoke. Once we actually got to the gate we found we were immediately boarding and another sigh of relief escaped our mouths. So close I kept chanting.
Once in the air I could feel my thoughts begin to try and decipher the last six weeks of my life. How the hell am I going to be able to put this all down in a coherent piece?
The stories, the experiences and the links I have seen throughout my time in Ireland is amazing and so rampant. All throughout the last leg of our journey I kept looking at my wife and thanking Brigid we were on our way home to family and friends. Mostly thanking Brigid for not letting that volcano hold us up any longer.
We stepped off the plane 40 minutes early, grabbed our luggage, met our wonderful niece and drove to Taco Bell. Our first meal was one of savory taco meat and taco condiments of which we suddenly felt a deep thankfulness that we could actually do that - at any time or day - and without having to drive to another city.
How strange that feels. How alien it was to be in America once again after being gone for so long. We drove on what we call normal roads, we can go shopping in what we call normal stores and we can do things later than in most towns and parishes of Ireland. It leaves one wondering of it all.
How Strange
How strange it is to see so many stores,
from where we came there was but a few,
and even less open on a daily basis,
How Strange it is as I awake to different sounds,
no lambs baying in the distance,
no ocean waves to be heard,
How strange is it to be able to drive again,
on the right side of the road,
to have stop lights instead of round-abouts,
How strange it is to walk outside of my bedroom door,
not hearing the daily clatter of friends,
or the midnight door slams,
How strange it is to notice the differences,
to feel so comfortable,
and yet so far away,
How strange is it to have left something behind,
feeling like you haven't really come home,
and yet knowing when you are.
Monday, May 17, 2010
The Final Week
As we came off the rush of having visited Derry and learned of the Celtic Calendar, we entered into the week of uneasiness and rampant emotions. Since the First Week we have dealt with an active volcano and people we feeling the pressure of it by way of flight delays and nervousness. This was mixed with most of us feeling the desire to be home, even though we were enjoying ourselves, caused by homesickness and familiarity.
As we entered the week and finished our Gaeltacht Studies, we all began to get back into our groove. It was an excellent session followed up with a week of more music, dancing and stories. It ended with a potluck dinner with stories and songs all around. In the end we all settled in and finished it up with some mighty craic.
As I sit here in Dublin, on our final evening, I am filled with a deep bittersweet feeling. I miss my daughter, my cats and my king size bed, I know I will miss my new friends, beautiful landscapes and all the stories I could possibly get on recordings. I have so much more to get and it leaves me wanting to make future trips out here.
What it has shown me is how to overcome personal dilemmas,rise above petty feelings and to harness that inner gift for gab that I have. It has also prepared me for future trips, in so many ways, and even makes me eager to undertake another one.
As I head home in the morning I know I will shed a few tears; not for sadness but of the prospects of what lay ahead of me. In all this I have discovered a world that I had no idea existed. Places filled with meaning and ancient names and ruins that are just waiting for us to discover and learn about. It has shown me that there is only one way to overcome ignorance to the world around me. Through education, through communication and understanding we can open doors.
War does not need to be this cataclysm. Imperialism does not need to be the mechanism. We could all learn a lot from our neighbors, be it Canadian, Russian or European. By learning what it is they have undergone, what their histories are and what their people know can we overcome this path of blissful ignorance.
By learning their stories, songs and languages we can bridge the differences with understanding and compassion.
As we entered the week and finished our Gaeltacht Studies, we all began to get back into our groove. It was an excellent session followed up with a week of more music, dancing and stories. It ended with a potluck dinner with stories and songs all around. In the end we all settled in and finished it up with some mighty craic.
As I sit here in Dublin, on our final evening, I am filled with a deep bittersweet feeling. I miss my daughter, my cats and my king size bed, I know I will miss my new friends, beautiful landscapes and all the stories I could possibly get on recordings. I have so much more to get and it leaves me wanting to make future trips out here.
What it has shown me is how to overcome personal dilemmas,rise above petty feelings and to harness that inner gift for gab that I have. It has also prepared me for future trips, in so many ways, and even makes me eager to undertake another one.
As I head home in the morning I know I will shed a few tears; not for sadness but of the prospects of what lay ahead of me. In all this I have discovered a world that I had no idea existed. Places filled with meaning and ancient names and ruins that are just waiting for us to discover and learn about. It has shown me that there is only one way to overcome ignorance to the world around me. Through education, through communication and understanding we can open doors.
War does not need to be this cataclysm. Imperialism does not need to be the mechanism. We could all learn a lot from our neighbors, be it Canadian, Russian or European. By learning what it is they have undergone, what their histories are and what their people know can we overcome this path of blissful ignorance.
By learning their stories, songs and languages we can bridge the differences with understanding and compassion.
The Third Week
It perhaps was the hardest week, or maybe second hardest next to week four, as we began it with a whirlwind of activities and trips. During this week we would head to Derry, Heard stories from a lady who also sang and did more music playing. It was a great week.
One of the highlights of the week was the final bodhran class. I had the privilege of meeting a gentleman who inspired me in many ways. Spiritually, mentally and physically as he told me stories of his past. It is interesting to get such inspiration from someone who has seen much in their life.
Another highlight was getting a deeper look into the Celtic Calendar and having an internal light go on. So much of it I have studied alone, or with Jill, that it was definitely a bonus to get an academic viewpoint on it. It has caused me to really question some dogmatic practices of several organized religions.
We finished the week with a trip to Northern Ireland which felt like a different place entirely. The city layout, the people's attitudes and the lack of Gaelic surprised me, even though I knew what to expect. It was not a place to get stories as many still harbor deep resentment towards the Nationalists.
The whole week seemed to paint two very different tales of the Irish. On one hand you have the Nationalists who are relearning their language, their heritage and their ancient past, while on the other hand you have the Loyalists who seem rather content on forgetting that segment of Ireland's history and Identity. It left me bewildered by a feeling of separation.
One of the highlights of the week was the final bodhran class. I had the privilege of meeting a gentleman who inspired me in many ways. Spiritually, mentally and physically as he told me stories of his past. It is interesting to get such inspiration from someone who has seen much in their life.
Another highlight was getting a deeper look into the Celtic Calendar and having an internal light go on. So much of it I have studied alone, or with Jill, that it was definitely a bonus to get an academic viewpoint on it. It has caused me to really question some dogmatic practices of several organized religions.
We finished the week with a trip to Northern Ireland which felt like a different place entirely. The city layout, the people's attitudes and the lack of Gaelic surprised me, even though I knew what to expect. It was not a place to get stories as many still harbor deep resentment towards the Nationalists.
The whole week seemed to paint two very different tales of the Irish. On one hand you have the Nationalists who are relearning their language, their heritage and their ancient past, while on the other hand you have the Loyalists who seem rather content on forgetting that segment of Ireland's history and Identity. It left me bewildered by a feeling of separation.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
The Second Week
And so without due we come to the end of the second week; one of challenges, difficulties and growing opportunities. I am reminded of my days in Student Government at Grays Harbor College where we had such a diverse set of minds that it was a daily challenge to look upon things in a positive manner. Unfortunately we cannot always please everyone.
The Irish Language continues to perplex me and I have taken to listening to the recordings I have made, of the classes, in efforts to better get a grip on it. However, it still gets me frazzled so I must rely on determination and repetition. At the very least I have them to keep practicing on at home so that the next trip over I can at least have a basic understanding and be able to communicate.
The bodhran classes continue to teach me more techniques in playing the Irish drum and I am enjoying it deeply. Nothing touches my soul, other than Jill's love, like that of the beating rhythm of the drum. I only hope that the Russians have a similar native drum I can learn and add a third variety to my table.
If there is anything I am thankful for, other than being here with my wife on our 11th Anniversary, is that of the stories I am able to gather. It has become my goal throughout the many programs I plan on attending to gather such stories from all over the world in the respective places I have studied. For some reason it is what interests me the most, perhaps because if we forget those stories or people of the past we are indeed headed for cultural extinction.
I have had several conversations with academics, laypeople and travelers about the core elements of a culture and what is needed for it to survive. In this I have heard many say that language is perhaps the first element, and most vital, in order for a culture to survive the changing times. Language could be divided into it's origins, place names and structure.
There it moves into two directions - Music and Stories. From music you get songs, instruments and techniques. From Stories you get poetry, short stories/fables and non-fiction or biographies. Three aspects of each of the three main groups which contribute to the core of a culture, in my humble opinion.
I cannot wait to see what comes in the next few weeks, or the next year.
The Irish Language continues to perplex me and I have taken to listening to the recordings I have made, of the classes, in efforts to better get a grip on it. However, it still gets me frazzled so I must rely on determination and repetition. At the very least I have them to keep practicing on at home so that the next trip over I can at least have a basic understanding and be able to communicate.
The bodhran classes continue to teach me more techniques in playing the Irish drum and I am enjoying it deeply. Nothing touches my soul, other than Jill's love, like that of the beating rhythm of the drum. I only hope that the Russians have a similar native drum I can learn and add a third variety to my table.
If there is anything I am thankful for, other than being here with my wife on our 11th Anniversary, is that of the stories I am able to gather. It has become my goal throughout the many programs I plan on attending to gather such stories from all over the world in the respective places I have studied. For some reason it is what interests me the most, perhaps because if we forget those stories or people of the past we are indeed headed for cultural extinction.
I have had several conversations with academics, laypeople and travelers about the core elements of a culture and what is needed for it to survive. In this I have heard many say that language is perhaps the first element, and most vital, in order for a culture to survive the changing times. Language could be divided into it's origins, place names and structure.
There it moves into two directions - Music and Stories. From music you get songs, instruments and techniques. From Stories you get poetry, short stories/fables and non-fiction or biographies. Three aspects of each of the three main groups which contribute to the core of a culture, in my humble opinion.
I cannot wait to see what comes in the next few weeks, or the next year.
Friday, April 23, 2010
The First Week
We near the end of our first week in the Gleann and I have already begun to see the world in a dramatically different way. With each passing day I am giving the gift of learning something new and interesting. On Wednesday we began learning a deeper understanding of places names all over Europe and Ireland, the commonality of those names and the connection to the Celtic people of the ancient world. It has evoked feelings I have little understanding of but the knowledge is something I am in awe of.
This was after bodhran playing, which was really quite exciting and exhilarating, rounding that day off as one of the best. Thursday we did drawing and dancing, both presenting a challenge to myself but very rewarding. It has been a long time since I sat down and drew and I can only hope that my patience lasts as long as this journey.
Today we will wrap up the week with a fantastic singer, singing in the "old style" of Irish sean-nós, and teaching us all about it. Not that we haven't learned but the whole experience here is to get it from the people themselves. It should be a grand time.
My dreams have been ones of interesting prospective; ranging from resolved issues to alternate lives and I cannot help but feel it is the Universe's way of confirming this path I am on. I hope to be able to have more as they seem to be helping in ways I had not expected. It is amazing at how vivid and surreal they have become since being here; causing me to want to dig deeper into their meanings in order to fully understand and utilize their messages.
This has indeed been a week of revelation and insight. I hope it continues this way.
This was after bodhran playing, which was really quite exciting and exhilarating, rounding that day off as one of the best. Thursday we did drawing and dancing, both presenting a challenge to myself but very rewarding. It has been a long time since I sat down and drew and I can only hope that my patience lasts as long as this journey.
Today we will wrap up the week with a fantastic singer, singing in the "old style" of Irish sean-nós, and teaching us all about it. Not that we haven't learned but the whole experience here is to get it from the people themselves. It should be a grand time.
My dreams have been ones of interesting prospective; ranging from resolved issues to alternate lives and I cannot help but feel it is the Universe's way of confirming this path I am on. I hope to be able to have more as they seem to be helping in ways I had not expected. It is amazing at how vivid and surreal they have become since being here; causing me to want to dig deeper into their meanings in order to fully understand and utilize their messages.
This has indeed been a week of revelation and insight. I hope it continues this way.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The Gleann
As we have been here for a few days I have only begun to see the beauty possessed by the Emerald Isle. This place exceeds my expectations by way of the land's beauty. I cannot express how and what I have been feeling.
The language classes have truly challenged me. With my fellow classmates, and ever helpful wife, I am slowly gaining a foothold in this ancient tongue. I am eager to continue stepping over my tongue and learn more.
Yesterday we took a walk along the first portion of Saint Columba's journey in the Gleann. It was quite interesting to see the path he took and the Turas erected for it. One can only contemplate what he must have thought or heard as he made his journey.
As we made our way back I contemplated what he must have felt, and a deep silence entered into my mind and soul. What was the world like so many hundreds of years ago without all the modern conveniences that we have today. What is it they would have done to pass the time, other than deep meditation and contemplations.
Jill and I plan on doing the walk some day or night alone and to experience what it is that others may have gone through. The sense of spirituality is deep in this land, so deep like the veins of quartz, and flows like the waves that hit the nearby beach.
We met a poet by the name of Don Byrne who shared with us his poetry of his life experiences. It invoked a poem of my farewell to my father while sitting on the Liffey in Dublin. I plan on making a video of that place with a dubbing of that very poem. I'll post it when I get the chance and share it on Facebook.
I look forward to many more days here and the experiences I have here.
The language classes have truly challenged me. With my fellow classmates, and ever helpful wife, I am slowly gaining a foothold in this ancient tongue. I am eager to continue stepping over my tongue and learn more.
Yesterday we took a walk along the first portion of Saint Columba's journey in the Gleann. It was quite interesting to see the path he took and the Turas erected for it. One can only contemplate what he must have thought or heard as he made his journey.
As we made our way back I contemplated what he must have felt, and a deep silence entered into my mind and soul. What was the world like so many hundreds of years ago without all the modern conveniences that we have today. What is it they would have done to pass the time, other than deep meditation and contemplations.
Jill and I plan on doing the walk some day or night alone and to experience what it is that others may have gone through. The sense of spirituality is deep in this land, so deep like the veins of quartz, and flows like the waves that hit the nearby beach.
We met a poet by the name of Don Byrne who shared with us his poetry of his life experiences. It invoked a poem of my farewell to my father while sitting on the Liffey in Dublin. I plan on making a video of that place with a dubbing of that very poem. I'll post it when I get the chance and share it on Facebook.
I look forward to many more days here and the experiences I have here.
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