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)

14 November 2011

Fat Love & The Marshes

Caitlin Lassiter Keating Marsh
Can I just say, I love looking at my last post from Dublin entitled "skinny love" because I am sitting here totally bloated from 10 straight days of fried chicken in North Carolina. I guess I went a little overboard this week after weeks of starving... More importantly, congratulations to my oldest friend, the person who has put up with me the longest and, possibly with the greatest compassion, Caitlin Lassiter Keating! She is married to a wonderful man named Jesse now, and I couldn't be happier for the two of them. You see, Caitlin is fiercely strong and independent, so I know this bond is a special one. Whenever I've been through hell and wanted to lay down and give up, she tells me to toughen up and gives me the faith I need to get through whatever I may be enduring, and I can't really think of anything I could've needed more in a friend these past 20 years :) They themselves are not fat, but their love is bounteous! When Caitlin and Jesse got married on Saturday, the Priest spoke about how our society has mislabeled love as an emotion, when it is really more of an action. We hear so often that love is a choice that we make every day, but those words hold so much more weight at an altar where two people are committing themselves to one another for their entire lives. Furthermore, the priest talked about how marriage is successful because we will it to be so, and because we accept that human love is imperfect, and the only thing that can bind something for eternity is divine love. I felt so honored to be standing in St. Ann's on November 12th with Caitlin and Jesse, listening to those words of encouragement and promise that there is a way for modern love to survive. I truly believe it is possible, not with the hopelessly romantic part of me, but with the grown-up, realistic part of me.

Carrie doing the dirty work
So let me tell you a little more about the FAT love that I received at home this week: Tricia Ann making my favorite enchiladas; Cousin Caroline offering to buy me a ticket home for the holidays; Magan unexpectedly picking me up from the train station AND making me (and Cameron and Josh and Dela) fried pork chops; Josh driving to Chapel Hill for < 24 hours, and he and My Mom for stocking up on Hummus and love for me; Theresa for many drinks and laughs; Lil for taking such good care of my fat baby, Leona; Chels for wonderful conversation at Whole Foods; Jells + Max for being my safe-havens in DC; of course, Dela for my favorite meal and taking my Mama for a spin in the Maserati; and last-but-not-least, my benefactor, Ease.

my first rosary, a gift from Mrs. Keating
This is why I'm fat. Not really, I still got into my size 6 Jcrew dress just fine this weekend, even after Chik-fila, Suttons, sushi, Mexican, etc...but I am fat with love!! What did I learn in these 10 days of American vacation between Irish deadlines?  That, like James Taylor says, Love really IS "the finest thing around" and wealth, or knowledge, or beauty, or achievement can never replace falling asleep on someone's shoulder and feeling totally safe, or dancing with my Mom to my favorite Bob Dylan song, or snuggling with my 3 year old doppelganger, Charlotte, on the couch, or staying home with my best friends because "going out" just isn't necessary for us to have fun, or being totally humbled by my cousin bringing me back home to feel all of this all over again in a month. I am totally fat with love. Thank you, everyone! Especially, my beautiful Punky for making me a part of her day :)




Total goof-troop on the back of the trolley--I think the bride and groom were supposed to be there...whoops.
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