Category: Ireland

Strength

Vacations are often a time to relax and let the senses wander, and wandering was a deliberate part of my recent trip to Ireland. It’s taken me a while to feel comfortable writing a broader piece about its people and energy in a way that seems genuine.

Ireland is a complicated place with a vast history. One might think that, having a great-grandfather who immigrated from Ireland, I would know quite a bit about its history, but I don’t.

Part of the reason might be that some who left Ireland may have been happy to say good riddance and hoped to leave this slice of life behind, never looking back. This doesn’t glamorize the Emerald Isle for the magic and mysticism like we see on postcards, but when you look more deeply, Ireland was a hard life.

When I was in Ireland, I could feel the streets and stones talk. And with so much history echoing back, it was hard in the moment to fully understand, but there is a story here. The story Ireland spoke was a mixture of magic and heartache in a way that didn’t sidestep the truth.

For such a small island, Ireland’s history is much deeper and richer than most know, and I am certain now that visiting was the only way for me to understand this. There is mystique here. You can hear it in the pubs, its music and across every green pasture and stone fence.

I understand why music and drink became so important to the Irish; it seems a coping mechanism.

When you fully understand the hardship of Ireland’s history, you quickly understand why its people are who they are and why many leave.

I felt the tension in Belfast and Derry; this mood is strong, but so are its people. Where the heart has fractured from hate and war, their hearts also sense an opportunity to heal. Each side looks at the other, knowing their past, but they are tired.

Ireland seems tired of being on edge and standing tall for the cause. I sense many are ready to lay down the old for something new. More deeply, I sense many already have.

The Irish are the only ones who can implement a new and unified solution, and I, as an outsider, must be there to support this effort. They’ll find their way because the Irish are capable of magnificent things.

And if I learned anything while in Ireland, it’s that their collective heart is present and powerful!

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Ballad of Mallard

Ballad of Mallard > Listen on BandCamp

The ride from the airport was short but heavy with the weight of travel, lighter chatting with new friends. Home (Ballinamallard), our bags clattered onto the hallway floor, and before the jet lag could settle deeper, Brad and Craig nudged us gently toward the back door and back outside. The house itself was charming, but it was the backyard that opened its arms to us.

Late afternoon light poured in from the west, unusually warm for Ireland. The painted yellow walls of the garden glowed like they had been dipped in honey. The garden stretched long and neat, framed by waist-high stone walls, with flowers bending toward the sun and vegetables reaching upward as if in celebration. Their pup Winston is playing around our feet.

The garden seemed to lean closer, fruit trees flickering in the warm light, the shed in the corner humming faintly as if it were listening in.

A table was set under the awning, the smell of lamb stew curling through the air, mingled with roasted vegetables and potatoes crisping on the barbecue.

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