"It'll come to you this love of the land. There's no gettin' away from it if you're Irish" - Gone With the Wind
Failte!
I'm excited to share my adventures with all of you! I want your first taste of my life in Ireland to be this poem that I wrote very late one night when I was a Junior in College. Its meaning seems eerily prophetic now. More than anything, I've created this blog to make the actualization of this life-long dream of mine visible to those I love: my friends who are my foundation, my endlessly supportive family, my mentors and co-workers who inspire me, and my former students who have given me enough satisfaction and fulfillment to last two lifetimes... Have the courage to believe that your wildest dreams can come true.
Is fhearr fheuchainn na bhith san duil, (It is better to try than to hope)
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Mourn (A Seaside Peak in Southern Ireland)
The dark, earthen sod saturates her fair feet, but briefly since she frolics fast in knee high blades of greenest grass that blow dizzily in the Celtic-sea air.
Her wool skirt, stiffened by ware of evenings past is splashed by cresting waves that break against a beach blacker than her hair. Those once stiffer fibers were loosed by nights upon nights of hanging perfectly on his line before being wildly blown dry by the crisp Hibernian salt air.
The pair sits to rest a while instead of dodging breakers or skipping paler stones.
"Indian summer's here," he says softly, but all of summer here feels like the edge
of autumn to her, even though she grins in agreement
as she dangles her pale, soft feet off Achilles' peak, where Erin's vermillion-gold sky meets an ocean that is grey with years.
She sleeps with her eyes closed tight most nights. He asks her if she believes in Tier-Nan-Og, and she asks him if he believes in anything eternal. Outside the tide is rising, or it's receding— She never can tell but for the strengthened smell of salty freshness strained through his light, lace curtains.
She thinks to herself that he is like trying to hold the sea
and she imagines the water running between her fingers-- clenched so tight.
And so, the night calls her out of her sleeping, like daytime chides her into dreaming. She slips her white fingers through the holes of an old loose scarf that affords her more company than warmth on these newborn autumn evenings. She is off-- Night clouds reflect emerald from land to sea, And the tara that she never eyes from long hours of staring too far into star blanketed skies, feels cool against the thickening pads of her pallid feet.
Elisabeth Lewis (2005)
27 September 2011
Care packages, Emily Bronte, and Changing Seasons
Can you handle the seasons of your life? Stevie Knicks asks. Well, today was a beautiful 69 degree Autumn day in Dublin, despite my frolicking in the leaves and passion for sweater weather, I know there are those of us who suffer with a little Seasonal Affective Disorder. Trust me, it's nothing rare. I grew up with a father whose temper directly correlated to the length of the day (sounds pagan) and my best friend always get's a little mopey after labor day when it's time to put her sailboats and bathing suits away. No Fear, my friends! Whether you live in Boston [where it's actually colder/rainier this week than it is in Dublin]; you have a touch of SAD; you're a sequestered graduate student; or you just have a tortured poet's soul like myself [yeah, I just said it. Lilly knows what I mean], I have a top 5 list of remedies to put you back in the high life again!
5. This is from a page out of my friend Daniel Goans' book: Sing Out Loud. At all costs. Do it in the shower & in the car, but I do it when I'm walking around the city and even my school campus--SURE, I look a little strange, but there's something about it that is good for the soul and I recommend doing it at the top of your lungs [staying in tune is absolutely optional, and actually discouraged].
4. Go back to your favorite book [or one of them]. I did that this week with Wuthering Heights when I was worn out from traveling and reading Environmental Archeology. Obviously, I didn't read the whole thing, but a chapter was good enough for the soul--and it left me feeling warm inside despite the low temps + rain of the chilly North I had just visited. As an avid reader, I think that in a way what we read develops along with us and becomes a facet of who we are. Emily Bronte just happens to remind me of a part of myself that I needed to be back in touch with.
Reading Wuthering Heights on St. Stephens Green in my new earrings from T!
3. Go Outside! It might not be 85 like you want it to be, but nature is always peaceful and relaxing. I live in the middle of a city, but I went to a beautiful park today and just laid in the middle of crinkling yellow leaves in my corduroys, and I was instantly transformed. You NEED those smells, the fresh air, and what little sunlight there's left to have!
Listening to my CDs from Theresa! This has got to be DREAMS
2. Correspond with someone long-distance. And I highly recommend snail mail, as opposed to instant-gratification Email/Skype/Facebook. Though these are wonderful things that allow us to connect to one another constantly and with ease, I would argue that it detracts from the depth of that contact. When I sit down to write a card or letter to one of my friends back home, I think carefully about what I'm going to say. I use every inch of space. And it comes from a deeper place of love and gratitude because I've taken the time to work on it and send it. Today I got my first "Care Package" from my wonderful sister-friend Theresa, and it just made me feel SO LOVED. Do that for someone else, and the feeling will come back to you, trust me.
1. Learn Something New. And Meaningful. Ok, so it's cold. You don't get as much outdoor time, you don't get as much vacation time, you don't get as much vitamin D. Look at it as a chance to hone some talent you've always felt lurking beneath you, but never had the time to explore. Take French lessons, learn to bake, paint in watercolor, pick up an instrument like a mandolin or a harp. Candace and I are going to start Irish next Tuesday! My philosophy is that all the extra time, energy, and brain-power that go into your new talent will not only distract you, but produce a glorious result that is fun to show off by the time the snow melts and spring is here!
Thanks T! I love and miss you a lot! You'll get my snail mail soon
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