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Published: March 22nd 2006
On two of the previous trips to Ireland I played the typical role of tourist: fly in; hire a car; trash it by driving on the wrong side of the road; take pictures of green fields, churches and old men in tweed; drink in a pub and rush back home exhausted.
One reason to extend the time here is to have the time to discover Ireland for what she really is. Not to set a heavy structure built on my assumptions of what Ireland is, but rather let Ireland reveal herself.
A consequence of this 'schedule' is the fear that comes with facing so much unstructured time. Just think about all the terrible things one can learn about oneself. I am learning. Learning to let each moments reveal it's own meaning. The fear comes in the morning - as the long unstructured day stretches ahead. By the end of the day I am rejoicing in the small moments that have been observed in their quiet relief.
Such moments come as an afternoon meditating in the public chapel at the Mount Mallory Abby; framing a large oak tree in the gap of a rusty gate with my camera lens; a curious lamb that approaches me as its brethren run the other direction; meeting the village idiot and hearing a story of a guitar playing prodigy named George Forman; being greeted by scamp (the dog in the road) and learning about his daily routine consisting of a bone from the butcher and two walks with Paddy the neighbor.
Then there was the Sunday afternoon visiting Brian's farm. A lad I met on St. Patrick's Day, he invited me to walk his ancestral land. As we walked the patchwork of 65 acres we talked of Irish and American culture and the differences. We compared political outlooks, referenced history, and musical taste. I asked tons of questions about the economy of farming. Brian showed me the moss covered creek that runs through the edge of the property and the woods that stretched just beyond.
Similar to the Northwest woods, still you can just see the Knights of Brian Buru's time riding horse back around the corner. We joked about a band of IRA goons hidden in the woods as the American visitor is lead into an ambush.
Brian's family has been here as long as anyone can remember. He showed me the whitewashed stone and slate roofed home that is well over 200 years old - it is attached to the much older stone home that is overtaken with brambles. No one lives in the house, but rather they live in a modern semi-attached house in town.
I imagine that my Great-great grandfather probably knew his. His may have provided aid and assistance to mine as the later hid from the British authorities before escaping to America.
Brian with and 'I' is a product of generations staying rooted to the land on this Island in the Atlantic. Bryan with a 'Y' is a product of the decision to emigrate to the west over the Atlantic. Brian with an 'I' is working the land and and continuing the family legacy with all the struggle and benefits that come with it.
Another reason I came to Ireland for an extended period of time was to reflect on how I can continue the legacy of fighting for justice that has been given to me by example by my ancestors.
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Kitty
non-member comment
I like being with you every step of the way on this journey (or many steps anyway). Thank you Bryan for sharing this trip with us.