:: Jet Lag ::

It's like a punch in the face.
Everyday.
For a week.

The end.

Musings from the Emerald Isle

After a very stressful week of having essentially no internet connection*, I find myself happily situated in my old friend Ro's tech-friendly home. 

(Thank You, Lord, for internet. I had no idea how web-dependent I'd become.  I feel almost as if food and water had been restored to me after a long fast.)  

I am in Ireland.  

The country of my mom's family origin.  

The obsession of my youth.  

A long-held dream is being fulfilled in this trip. You only have to look at my bookshelves to understand how deeply I've longed to see this place; with titles like McCullough's Wars of the Irish Kings or the more well-known Irisih Fairy and Folk Tales from the incomprable Yeats, the Rachel-brain of my early adulthood was fed on the history and lore of Ireland. I lived my Irish ancestory for about three years.

Though I've become more pragmatic in my 30s than I was a decade ago, I still allowed myself to go there emotionally on the ferry over from Holyhead. I just thought...just felt...what was it like for my ancestors 150 years ago?  The boldness of leaving your homeland for a country across the sea was no small thing back in those days.  Did they leave because of English oppression?  Did they leave because of one of the potato famines?  Did they leave to be near friends and family who had already left because of famine or oppression?  I imagined some great-great-grandmother finding her sea-legs on the deck of a wooden vessel, gettting salt-whipped from the ocean as she leaned over the side of the boat railing to look at the wake left by this monstrous ship carrying her away from her homeland.  Was she poor?  Was she more excited than sad? More scared than excited?  I tried to enter into her emotion, succeeding only for brief half-seconds -- those snatches of time inbetween the snapping of photos and the curling of excited toes.  I was on the Irish Sea, after all. I couldn't allow myself too much nostalgia or I'd miss my own 21st century experiences.

Aside from reincarnating my great-great-grandmother's journey (albeit, on a different body of water), I very much wanted to throw myself into the sea -- to give myself up to the waves and mingle with the history of my people.  (In the end I didn't take the plunge; perhaps what stopped me was not wanting to ruin my smart phone, but we'll never really know.)  I also allowed myself to believe in mermaids during my three hour tour, because surely if they exist anywhere it'll be off the coast of Ireland?

After safely landing and waiting ages for my luggage (and supressing the very great urge to scream "I'M IN IRELAND!!!!!  WOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"), I finally made it outside to Ronan.  How very dear to see him!  He was one of my dorm mates in France, which is how I know him, and until yesterday I hadn't seen him in nearly a decade.  When we were "at Uni" he used to come into my room at all hours of the night to argue philosophy -- hours in which I sorely wanted to sleep but hadn't the heart to kick him out. I love his house, I love his wife, I love his dogs, and I am loving being here.  Tonight we're running off to go see a more picturesque part of Ireland.  Photographic evidence of this journey will be forthcoming upon my return to my native land, but for now, I wish you all well and hope your week is turning out as fabulously as mine.

*My friends in England turn their internet off and unplug it! during the day.  They only turn it on for about 20 minutes to read and return emails right before they go to bed.  It's...killing...me...

Priority #1 for the next two weeks:

Image from SimonFree.com

Adventure Time

I found out yesterday that my good friend Rachel doesn't like adventuring.  This was a huge shocker, because we've known each other quite a long time and we are greatly alike in many other respects. So I assumed she was like me.  I love adventuring.  If I've gone six months without travel I begin getting depressed.  (I also rearrange my furniture on a regular basis.  Essentially, I thrive on change.)

The last few years have been quiet for me because of being sick and living at home and having surgery.  My passport also expired within that time frame, so I haven't traveled internationally since 2009, and that was just to Canada.   BUT, two weeks from today I get to fly off to the UK for my best British friend's wedding. I will also be visiting one of my ancestral homes, Ireland, for a week. :D :D :D

:D

I am euphoric. 

I'm baaaaaaack!

Well my dears, I privatized for a while and thought about deleting, but here I am again.  I like this outlet.  I like looking back at old posts and remembering my life.  It is good.

You know what else is good?  My life.  I've had a good life.  I've lived, and that has made it good.  Kierkegaard talks a lot about venturing and risk; I think, as a young man, he did not risk enough in life and later regretted it.  I, however, am a master at risk (with both success and failure) and have no regrets.  (Well, very few, and the ones I do have would be silly to most people.)  I don't think you can live with regret and live with heart at the same time.  Risk and venture are part of life and we can only work with what's been built before.  So if I step out and risk something and it fails, what have I lost?  Nothing.  I have gained everything.  I have gained knowledge from my failure, I have gained boldness by learning how to fail.  I have been broken of perfectionism because failure has taught me I am imperfect.  I've learned to give grace to others in their failures, and I've learned to let go of the ideal for the sake of the real. 

I love risk and I love failure.  Because of this, looking back, I love the life I have thus-far lived. Even in the hard times (Endo!) I have lived fully, and to die today would be no loss.  What a lovely life I have been given.  How beautiful life is. I am content.

(Of course I must acknowledge my parents, cause they never held me back with fear or caution.  This is a great rarity among parents, I think, and I am blessed.)

BBF* is engaged!

This means I'm going to England for a wedding, baby! Oh yeah.

*Best British Friend