Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Rocks on the Sand

For a long time now I've been seeing images in my mind... of Derry, of Clare, of streets I used to walk down and places I used to go. I know I didn't write much when I was in Ireland. The pressure of getting a master's degree and other rather trying situations at that time prevented me from indulging in the usual retrospection I enjoy while traveling or living abroad. So now it is long past time I tell of my life in "Nor'n Ireland" and hope that the memories will do justice to the moments. Here is the first of my "Tales of an Irish Life".....


One of the last days I spent in Ireland, I drove to Malin Head point in Co. Donegal to say my goodbyes to the Island that had been my home and my hardship for almost two years. As I wandered around the hills and former watch tower, I did some watching of my own. Families and couples braved the chill and wind to visit this little spit of land, from which, on a clear day one could glimpse the next island eastward – Scotland. It had been my dream and goal to continue my European life and get a job in Edinburgh. However, some dreams, regardless of how dreamy just don’t come true and so instead of saying Hello to a new home, I was saying farewell to my hopes and dreams. It was the second time the UK had the final word in my life, forcing me to reevaluate myself and to reform my plans.

While I was staring out to sea and envisioning Scotland out there just beyond my reach, I looked down from the little cliff I was standing on and saw on the land below written in stones placed together, Eire. There it was, like a primitive signpost announcing to any travelers where they were. There I was and there I had been for two winters, in a land that one small word could never encompass. A land of wonder and history, of blood and music, a land where the past continued to invade the present and where the people had old souls but murky futures. Ireland had indeed been a trial but it’d also been a journey that taught me as much as it tested. Through my writing I wish to relive the life that now seems so distant. To recapture the joy of discovering a new city, a new language. These may be memories, but they’re also the building blocks of a heart and soul that yearns for more than the ordinary.

3 comments:

Family Sleuther said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Family Sleuther said...

Dacia, remember that "we grow great by dreams" and that we must "nourish and protect them."

From the roof of my office building in DC I can see Washington's neo-gothic cathedral on a distant hill. It's reminiscent of Europe and the old world and it looks down on all the silly new world.

Inside is buried President Woodrow Wilson (champion of the League of Nations), who said:

“We grow great by dreams. All big men are dreamers. They see things in the soft haze of a spring day or in the red fire of a long winter's evening. Some of us let these great dreams die, but others nourish and protect them; nurse them through bad days till they bring them to the sunshine and light which comes always to those who sincerely hope that their dreams will come true.”

Unknown said...

Thanks Mike, that is a beautiful quote and a very good thing to remember when dreams seem unreachable. :)