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.
Friday, April 16, 2010
The Road Trip
Day Three
As we left Doolin I had a great sense of sadness fall over me. Not because I was missing home but because I felt a deep connection there and did not want to leave. Ann, the hostel hostess at Allie River Hostel, was gracious, kind and very enjoyable. She did everything she could to make us feel at home. She introduced me to Francis Noel, who was an encyclopedia of local information, lore and the history of the area.
I took him to a local pub and bought him a pint as we sat down and he began telling me some stories. He went on to explain migration patterns of the Scotch-Irish and how it was the Irish who crossed over to Scotland, Northern Scotland and fought with the tribes of Picts. It would be later in history that some of those same Irish, now Scots would be brought back into what would be known as the Ulster Plantation of King Henry VIII. I sat mesmerized as he spun his tales and as we walked back to the hostel he told me from where he came.
His family is of the Weir, not to be confused with Wier of England, and how he came to be at the hostel in what started out as a night camping in a tent and his becoming a tenant there. He shared a story with Jill and we had such a grand time that we stayed an extra night in order to enjoy their company some more. I must confess that I did not want to leave Doolin, it was a place that seemed to call out to my soul.
The night before we left I hugged Noel long and firmly. He is a man of impeccable qualities and I hope to meet up with him in the future, I have a deep feeling we will be back there. Ann was just such a delight and I cannot say enough about her. This lady from Australia beamed of the qualities one would find in any good person and I found myself very drawn to her friendliness. Later during our stay we met Carl, the proprietor of the hostel, and he was a fine gentleman. He shared with me tips of the bodhran and even played mine for a few moments.
When all was said and done I went to bed dreaming of returning and hoping it would not be so long to do so. The morning greeted us with great weather, again, and we continued our road trip to Galway.
Day Four
Day four was an incredibly chilly morning, and day, as we sped onwards towards Budget car rentals in Galway to drop off the car. We had a deadline and needed to be there in time, fortunately for us our hostel was but a few steps away.
Tired from all the driving and walking we just chilled in the Eyre Square locale and had a pint, some good fish and chips and settled in for the lengthy bus ride the next day towards our final destination.
That word means so much more to me now. Destination, the final place one goes when they are on a journey, or Great Walk (Siúl Mór), to met up with whatever may come. I hold no expectations, I hold no disillusions as I promised myself to emulate a fellow classmate and be free to see what may come.
I have seen, thanks Ian.
As we left Doolin I had a great sense of sadness fall over me. Not because I was missing home but because I felt a deep connection there and did not want to leave. Ann, the hostel hostess at Allie River Hostel, was gracious, kind and very enjoyable. She did everything she could to make us feel at home. She introduced me to Francis Noel, who was an encyclopedia of local information, lore and the history of the area.
I took him to a local pub and bought him a pint as we sat down and he began telling me some stories. He went on to explain migration patterns of the Scotch-Irish and how it was the Irish who crossed over to Scotland, Northern Scotland and fought with the tribes of Picts. It would be later in history that some of those same Irish, now Scots would be brought back into what would be known as the Ulster Plantation of King Henry VIII. I sat mesmerized as he spun his tales and as we walked back to the hostel he told me from where he came.
His family is of the Weir, not to be confused with Wier of England, and how he came to be at the hostel in what started out as a night camping in a tent and his becoming a tenant there. He shared a story with Jill and we had such a grand time that we stayed an extra night in order to enjoy their company some more. I must confess that I did not want to leave Doolin, it was a place that seemed to call out to my soul.
The night before we left I hugged Noel long and firmly. He is a man of impeccable qualities and I hope to meet up with him in the future, I have a deep feeling we will be back there. Ann was just such a delight and I cannot say enough about her. This lady from Australia beamed of the qualities one would find in any good person and I found myself very drawn to her friendliness. Later during our stay we met Carl, the proprietor of the hostel, and he was a fine gentleman. He shared with me tips of the bodhran and even played mine for a few moments.
When all was said and done I went to bed dreaming of returning and hoping it would not be so long to do so. The morning greeted us with great weather, again, and we continued our road trip to Galway.
Day Four
Day four was an incredibly chilly morning, and day, as we sped onwards towards Budget car rentals in Galway to drop off the car. We had a deadline and needed to be there in time, fortunately for us our hostel was but a few steps away.
Tired from all the driving and walking we just chilled in the Eyre Square locale and had a pint, some good fish and chips and settled in for the lengthy bus ride the next day towards our final destination.
That word means so much more to me now. Destination, the final place one goes when they are on a journey, or Great Walk (Siúl Mór), to met up with whatever may come. I hold no expectations, I hold no disillusions as I promised myself to emulate a fellow classmate and be free to see what may come.
I have seen, thanks Ian.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The Road Trip
Day One
We left Dublin and traveled towards Waterford to see where Betsy's people came from. As we drove along the road the scenery reflected element and he began to tell me of his storys of the past and present, one could even see where the elements would be in the future as we saw homes with solar power and alternative housing constructions. It was something to see as it all weaved itself together.
The day ended with us in Tramore Town where we stayed at Beach Haven Hostel, which was a lovely place, where we had the entire room to our group of five. As the night came in I found myself speaking with Robert Faulkner, a Traveler, and he began telling me his story. I sat and listened to him speak of his childhood and how it had affected him into his early adulthood. It reminded me that in all places there are good and bad people and Robert would say that repeatedly.
In his childhood, he began, he would be beating by his parents as they came home from nights of heavy drinking. It left deep scars upon him as he recollected these painful times, you could see it in his eyes, and one that would be repeated by himself against his girlfriend. When he entered school they would "beat him down" and removed him from regular classes and placed him into a class with other Traveler children. A phrase he kept repeating was how if he had gained an education then he might be able to "join" the rest of the Irish society and be a part of something instead of "separate". His father was one who settled for a bit, then traveled, while his mother never left her roots.
In this time his family had a feud with a rival Traveler family and the violence was horrible. In that, the Garda (police) never would interfere and would not arrest people, simply happy to let them fight it out. When I asked him why he thought this was he simply stated, "When you are a Traveler no one cares. They lock the doors to keep you out." It was a cold and revealing statement, whether it was true or not, and showed the divisiveness of Irish society. I could not help but ask more questions as I was an ignorant American and wanted badly to understand how these people were just disregarded.
He knew where his people came from, over by Cork, and he knew their history. "500 years we have been wondering the land" he would often chip in as we spoke on. I asked him what he wanted to do and he went on to say that he wanted an education, he wanted a chance to right the things he had wronged, especially after the violence with the rival Traveler family escalated five years ago and ended with his father's death. He wanted to go back to Cork, as he loved that place, but did not ever want to return to Tralee in fear that he would end back into the rhythm of his past.
As we neared the end of his story, he is only 25, he spoke of how lost he was and that he did not know what to do.
I did the only thing I could do, I remembered his name, his story and now I am placing it here for the world to see. So in that Robert will never be forgotten and maybe someday someone can help the Travelers find a way out of the violence they were forced into over 500 years ago. This is for you Robert, I only hope that one day you find someone to tell your whole story so that we can learn from our past and prevent it in the future.
As I went to sleep I dreamt of old caravans and trailers moving along an old dark highway to an uncertain past, filled with sadness and desperation for a land that would only reach out and help them rise above the days of eviction and open up a home to them all. I awoke early in the morning, my father whispering "Michael" in my ear, and watched the sun rise as I said my goodbyes. I let go of him that morning, but I will always carry his memories and lessons with me.
Day Two
As we packed up the car to continue our road trip we headed back into Waterford so that Betsy could go to the local museum and see the history of her people. Ian, Haley and I strolled through the local City Center and did some shopping (I had to get a pair of shoes as my boots had worn a bruise into my ankle from all the time on the plane and walking Dublin!) and looking around. We visited the Christ Cathedral and learned of Lord Rye's Tomb, which is somewhere underneath, but the sarcophagus was on display. It was an amazing sight to see as we gazed upon ancient relics.
We then grabbed a bite to eat and headed to Cashel, where we all would visit the Rock of Cashel, a magnificent castle, and stayed the night there. Though the castle was awesome, the town went from being friendly to down right awkward at night. Needless to say we did not do much wondering there and retired for the early ride that would then take us towards Doolin.
So far Doolin is amazing. This quiet little town has so much character I almost feel like I stepped into a totally different Ireland.
I'll let you know how our journey ends here, we are staying a few nights in the Allie River Hostel and it is a grand place indeed to take a few days off to rest and recharge.
We left Dublin and traveled towards Waterford to see where Betsy's people came from. As we drove along the road the scenery reflected element and he began to tell me of his storys of the past and present, one could even see where the elements would be in the future as we saw homes with solar power and alternative housing constructions. It was something to see as it all weaved itself together.
The day ended with us in Tramore Town where we stayed at Beach Haven Hostel, which was a lovely place, where we had the entire room to our group of five. As the night came in I found myself speaking with Robert Faulkner, a Traveler, and he began telling me his story. I sat and listened to him speak of his childhood and how it had affected him into his early adulthood. It reminded me that in all places there are good and bad people and Robert would say that repeatedly.
In his childhood, he began, he would be beating by his parents as they came home from nights of heavy drinking. It left deep scars upon him as he recollected these painful times, you could see it in his eyes, and one that would be repeated by himself against his girlfriend. When he entered school they would "beat him down" and removed him from regular classes and placed him into a class with other Traveler children. A phrase he kept repeating was how if he had gained an education then he might be able to "join" the rest of the Irish society and be a part of something instead of "separate". His father was one who settled for a bit, then traveled, while his mother never left her roots.
In this time his family had a feud with a rival Traveler family and the violence was horrible. In that, the Garda (police) never would interfere and would not arrest people, simply happy to let them fight it out. When I asked him why he thought this was he simply stated, "When you are a Traveler no one cares. They lock the doors to keep you out." It was a cold and revealing statement, whether it was true or not, and showed the divisiveness of Irish society. I could not help but ask more questions as I was an ignorant American and wanted badly to understand how these people were just disregarded.
He knew where his people came from, over by Cork, and he knew their history. "500 years we have been wondering the land" he would often chip in as we spoke on. I asked him what he wanted to do and he went on to say that he wanted an education, he wanted a chance to right the things he had wronged, especially after the violence with the rival Traveler family escalated five years ago and ended with his father's death. He wanted to go back to Cork, as he loved that place, but did not ever want to return to Tralee in fear that he would end back into the rhythm of his past.
As we neared the end of his story, he is only 25, he spoke of how lost he was and that he did not know what to do.
I did the only thing I could do, I remembered his name, his story and now I am placing it here for the world to see. So in that Robert will never be forgotten and maybe someday someone can help the Travelers find a way out of the violence they were forced into over 500 years ago. This is for you Robert, I only hope that one day you find someone to tell your whole story so that we can learn from our past and prevent it in the future.
As I went to sleep I dreamt of old caravans and trailers moving along an old dark highway to an uncertain past, filled with sadness and desperation for a land that would only reach out and help them rise above the days of eviction and open up a home to them all. I awoke early in the morning, my father whispering "Michael" in my ear, and watched the sun rise as I said my goodbyes. I let go of him that morning, but I will always carry his memories and lessons with me.
Day Two
As we packed up the car to continue our road trip we headed back into Waterford so that Betsy could go to the local museum and see the history of her people. Ian, Haley and I strolled through the local City Center and did some shopping (I had to get a pair of shoes as my boots had worn a bruise into my ankle from all the time on the plane and walking Dublin!) and looking around. We visited the Christ Cathedral and learned of Lord Rye's Tomb, which is somewhere underneath, but the sarcophagus was on display. It was an amazing sight to see as we gazed upon ancient relics.
We then grabbed a bite to eat and headed to Cashel, where we all would visit the Rock of Cashel, a magnificent castle, and stayed the night there. Though the castle was awesome, the town went from being friendly to down right awkward at night. Needless to say we did not do much wondering there and retired for the early ride that would then take us towards Doolin.
So far Doolin is amazing. This quiet little town has so much character I almost feel like I stepped into a totally different Ireland.
I'll let you know how our journey ends here, we are staying a few nights in the Allie River Hostel and it is a grand place indeed to take a few days off to rest and recharge.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Our Arrival
As we walked off the plane in the Dublin terminal I immediately felt the Old World presence. We navigated our way through customs and were questioned about how long we would be here and whether or not we had enough money to stay that long. However, the gentleman at the customs check point was kind and a gentleman.
Instead of going to bed, being all excited and amped from the long flight, we strolled through Stephen's Green, visited Trinity College gazing upon the Book of Kells and sat down for a nice hot bowl of soup and brown bread. It was a very wonderful first day.
As we walked around we saw the Post Office where the 1916 Easter Uprising, the bullet holes from the British troops still mark the walls, and I am reminded of ohow very fragile our societies still are.
The Night Life of Dublin is filled with conversations and music, the pubs all watching Football (Soccer in America) and no one seems to be in a foul mood. I even met a gentleman by the name of James who described to me the head, the foam on the top of a stout or beer, was also referred to as the "Bishop's Hat" and that I should tell the bartender to top it off.
James was someone who I had an interest very much in, as it seemed he had been around. He hails from Scotland and is a man of deep insight and an easy going attitude. I think I may seek him out again today and get a more detailed conversation going on, hopefully he has some interesting stories to tell.
It was a long day filled with emotion and contemplation. From a dream of seeing the Book of Kells to seeing new and interesting people I had a fill that only going abroad could provide. I am still beside myself and am ever so grateful that I got this opportunity.
Instead of going to bed, being all excited and amped from the long flight, we strolled through Stephen's Green, visited Trinity College gazing upon the Book of Kells and sat down for a nice hot bowl of soup and brown bread. It was a very wonderful first day.
As we walked around we saw the Post Office where the 1916 Easter Uprising, the bullet holes from the British troops still mark the walls, and I am reminded of ohow very fragile our societies still are.
The Night Life of Dublin is filled with conversations and music, the pubs all watching Football (Soccer in America) and no one seems to be in a foul mood. I even met a gentleman by the name of James who described to me the head, the foam on the top of a stout or beer, was also referred to as the "Bishop's Hat" and that I should tell the bartender to top it off.
James was someone who I had an interest very much in, as it seemed he had been around. He hails from Scotland and is a man of deep insight and an easy going attitude. I think I may seek him out again today and get a more detailed conversation going on, hopefully he has some interesting stories to tell.
It was a long day filled with emotion and contemplation. From a dream of seeing the Book of Kells to seeing new and interesting people I had a fill that only going abroad could provide. I am still beside myself and am ever so grateful that I got this opportunity.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Preparing For The Journey
I am just a few nights away from leaving the United States to venture to Ireland, another country with entirely different social system. I am excited along with anxious, hoping that I am capable of absorbing as much about the Irish as I can. Yet something deep inside me feels like it is returning to a point of origin, coming home.
I have had many restless nights as I go over plans, repack my backpack and organize affairs in case of emergencies. You can only do so much planning though and in the end you have to give it up to faith and just hope all goes well without incident. You cannot let those insecurities or worries paralyze you, and it is in that irony that I find myself experiencing a bit of Irish cyclical nature.
So this evening we sat and played games with our neighbors, had leftover quiet time with our daughter, and finished up wandering thoughts on the internet. A swirl of actions in one day. I look forward to what tomorrow has to offer, and what the next seven weeks bring forth.
I have had many restless nights as I go over plans, repack my backpack and organize affairs in case of emergencies. You can only do so much planning though and in the end you have to give it up to faith and just hope all goes well without incident. You cannot let those insecurities or worries paralyze you, and it is in that irony that I find myself experiencing a bit of Irish cyclical nature.
So this evening we sat and played games with our neighbors, had leftover quiet time with our daughter, and finished up wandering thoughts on the internet. A swirl of actions in one day. I look forward to what tomorrow has to offer, and what the next seven weeks bring forth.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Just Around the Corner
My day started earlier than most days, rising well before the sun even poked his head out and said hello. It was to see a friend off who is part of the Ireland Program we're in and she stayed the night due to the early day. Jill took her to the airport, along with a few other friends, and saw them off. Strange that in less than a week we will be flying to Dublin Ireland for an epic journey.
Over the last few days we have laid our ducks in a row and prepared for the trip - from paying bills early to getting new equipment. I must say it feels good knowing when we leave things will be okay.
But it does take a toll on one's emotions. The highs and lows have been tremendous as we anxiously await the day we leave. To call it any ONE emotion would be too simplistic, instead having a barrage of them coursing through me. Like an adrenaline rush without the drug.
While we thought it would take forever has finally come down to the long stretch. I plan on testing my new equipment out before we leave, maybe I will post a picture or two.
Slán!
Over the last few days we have laid our ducks in a row and prepared for the trip - from paying bills early to getting new equipment. I must say it feels good knowing when we leave things will be okay.
But it does take a toll on one's emotions. The highs and lows have been tremendous as we anxiously await the day we leave. To call it any ONE emotion would be too simplistic, instead having a barrage of them coursing through me. Like an adrenaline rush without the drug.
While we thought it would take forever has finally come down to the long stretch. I plan on testing my new equipment out before we leave, maybe I will post a picture or two.
Slán!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
The Time Slowly Ticks
It is slowly getting closer to the time of our departure. Ireland has never looked so close and yet feel so far away, it is a melancholy feeling I am left with. I find myself running out of things to do, as I await the final things for packing.
I have been listening to the music from our class, songs like Kilkelly and Skibbereen, the previous song whispers haunting memories of my own. I have books picked out, clothes planned and my drum aches to finally be on the road. In all this elation I find myself reflecting on the past, not to dwell but to remind me from where I come.
I have my traveling butt freckle, Gerry the Garcia, who will be traveling with other butt freckles, and keep my journey on the lighter side of life. The group will eventually make their way on to Facebook somehow I am sure. As I find ways to occupy myself, while the day gets closer, I keep outlining papers and planning short videos. The curse of an over-active mind.
One week from tonight we will be finishing up final details, packing (for the fifth time!) and organizing passports and I.D's. I look forward to the travel chaos!
I have been listening to the music from our class, songs like Kilkelly and Skibbereen, the previous song whispers haunting memories of my own. I have books picked out, clothes planned and my drum aches to finally be on the road. In all this elation I find myself reflecting on the past, not to dwell but to remind me from where I come.
I have my traveling butt freckle, Gerry the Garcia, who will be traveling with other butt freckles, and keep my journey on the lighter side of life. The group will eventually make their way on to Facebook somehow I am sure. As I find ways to occupy myself, while the day gets closer, I keep outlining papers and planning short videos. The curse of an over-active mind.
One week from tonight we will be finishing up final details, packing (for the fifth time!) and organizing passports and I.D's. I look forward to the travel chaos!
Sunday, March 7, 2010
It's All in a Name
I used to walk a lot. I'd go on these walks that would take me from the north side of my hometown into the downtown districts. I'd walk east towards the plains, head south and then wrap it up with a loop back home. I'd be gone for hours at times, just whistling and thinking.
Except back then it was about where I was going to end up, and today it's more about what does my future hold. But mostly the walks help with sorting ideas, memories and information, giving me that chance at a mental recital. Which brings me to why I named this blog The Great Walk.
As I began the second stage of my life ten years ago by getting married to Jill, I had in essence began a new walk. I had finished walking alone and now had someone walking beside me as we journeyed through this stage of our lives. More over, we all go on a great walk in life, and we begin it at birth, walking through different stages of our progression.
Sometimes those progressions are hard and dark, other times they may be light and easy, but it is the experiences from these walks that grant us insight, knowledge and hopefully happiness.
In the truest sense I began this walk many years ago, the day I opened that aforementioned book - Celtic Magic - that I started down a spiritual path that would have me recollecting on every choice I had made. It would show me how connected we all are, yet how distinct each one of us is, and in a perfect world we would all get along.
So it is this that I have named this blog An Siúl Mór, The Great Walk, for it is that which I have been on for sometime. In the coming weeks I will begin posting material here from a portion of that Great Walk - in Ireland - and hopefully share the adventures and experiences I have there.
Slán abhaile!
Except back then it was about where I was going to end up, and today it's more about what does my future hold. But mostly the walks help with sorting ideas, memories and information, giving me that chance at a mental recital. Which brings me to why I named this blog The Great Walk.
As I began the second stage of my life ten years ago by getting married to Jill, I had in essence began a new walk. I had finished walking alone and now had someone walking beside me as we journeyed through this stage of our lives. More over, we all go on a great walk in life, and we begin it at birth, walking through different stages of our progression.
Sometimes those progressions are hard and dark, other times they may be light and easy, but it is the experiences from these walks that grant us insight, knowledge and hopefully happiness.
In the truest sense I began this walk many years ago, the day I opened that aforementioned book - Celtic Magic - that I started down a spiritual path that would have me recollecting on every choice I had made. It would show me how connected we all are, yet how distinct each one of us is, and in a perfect world we would all get along.
So it is this that I have named this blog An Siúl Mór, The Great Walk, for it is that which I have been on for sometime. In the coming weeks I will begin posting material here from a portion of that Great Walk - in Ireland - and hopefully share the adventures and experiences I have there.
Slán abhaile!
Anticipating the Trip
So I am heading into the last week, number ten, of the Winter Quarter of the Ireland program and I am suddenly filled with feelings of apprehension and uncertainty. I am excited, like I have never been, for this and am trying to make every possible plan I can for while we are away. It is a nerve wrecking experience.
I wanted to start this journal early to kind of give myself a way to put into words and form what I am thinking before I take the trip of my life. I have wanted to visit Ireland since the days when I first stumbled across the Celts in a book by D.J.Conway called Celtic Magic. It has been many years since I opened that book I bought so long ago, the crease is now falling apart and the pages are loosening, and I have learned and grown since those bygone days. They almost seem like distant dreams I once had.
Which is sort of strange to me. I had always thought things would stay the same, not sure why, and would just always be. I was so young those days that it all seemed mystical and wondrous and dangerous. We read lots of books about the Celts and their pagan system of beliefs, which would lead me towards my current path. One could almost say that it was "destined" to happen.
But that destiny would take many twists and shapes before manifesting into the reality it is now. I have worked my ass off over the last four years - Student Government, Phi Theta Kappa - and many hours writing, scripting, acting and growing. I had to change my attitude in order to do all this, a negative one would not have been very conducive to my goals, and I had to open my mind and be open to all situations. I had to step outside my comfort zone and trust.
Not only have I done this but my wife of ten years has joined me on this journey. She seeks to fill her knowledge with Folklore, Music and Art as I embark upon the path of discovery in different cultures. She has equally been involved and reached higher plateaus by being open to her experiences. Together we are learning about the ancient world and how our myths and spiritual systems came about. That very question, which resided in both of us, is more or less what drew us together, besides her awesome cookies!
Now, as we near our 11th year of marriage, we get to go live among the Irish in Ireland, the County Donegal, in Gleanncolmcille with about 90 residents. The class size is 28 and one professor so it should be a great time and awesome learning experience. I really cannot wait to see what transpires.
Well that is all for this day, tomorrow I'll talk about why I named the blog what I did.
I wanted to start this journal early to kind of give myself a way to put into words and form what I am thinking before I take the trip of my life. I have wanted to visit Ireland since the days when I first stumbled across the Celts in a book by D.J.Conway called Celtic Magic. It has been many years since I opened that book I bought so long ago, the crease is now falling apart and the pages are loosening, and I have learned and grown since those bygone days. They almost seem like distant dreams I once had.
Which is sort of strange to me. I had always thought things would stay the same, not sure why, and would just always be. I was so young those days that it all seemed mystical and wondrous and dangerous. We read lots of books about the Celts and their pagan system of beliefs, which would lead me towards my current path. One could almost say that it was "destined" to happen.
But that destiny would take many twists and shapes before manifesting into the reality it is now. I have worked my ass off over the last four years - Student Government, Phi Theta Kappa - and many hours writing, scripting, acting and growing. I had to change my attitude in order to do all this, a negative one would not have been very conducive to my goals, and I had to open my mind and be open to all situations. I had to step outside my comfort zone and trust.
Not only have I done this but my wife of ten years has joined me on this journey. She seeks to fill her knowledge with Folklore, Music and Art as I embark upon the path of discovery in different cultures. She has equally been involved and reached higher plateaus by being open to her experiences. Together we are learning about the ancient world and how our myths and spiritual systems came about. That very question, which resided in both of us, is more or less what drew us together, besides her awesome cookies!
Now, as we near our 11th year of marriage, we get to go live among the Irish in Ireland, the County Donegal, in Gleanncolmcille with about 90 residents. The class size is 28 and one professor so it should be a great time and awesome learning experience. I really cannot wait to see what transpires.
Well that is all for this day, tomorrow I'll talk about why I named the blog what I did.
Slán!
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