happy holy-days

Dear friends,

This Christmas season finds me remaining at Holy Hill, where I have been since Oct 6, when my parents left from their lovely little tour of Scotland and Ireland with me.  It was quite the wonderful little adventure we had together! -- dashing through the rain, squishing through bogs, sheltering in castles, driving through the mountains (and through herds of cattle or sheep depending on the day), sleeping in lighthouses, riding on ferries, standing in megalithic structures older than the great pyramids, climbing in ruined church towers, comparing scones, mourning for trees, gazing at the ocean, watching the clouds race across the sky, and basking in the sun's rare glow.

As you know if you've been reading my blog, I was ready for some calm, quiet time to reflect on my experiences, rejuvenate my spirit, and consider my future, so I came to Holy Hill, which was offering a 2-month contemplative experience for young adults. 

T.S Eliot's description fits my experience here when he writes,

and what you thought you came for
is only a shell, a husk of meaning
from which the purpose breaks only when it is fulfilled
if at all.  either you had no purpose
or the purpose is beyond the end you figured
and is altered in fulfillment.
...
you are not here to verify,
instruct yourself, or inform curiosity
or carry report.  you are here to kneel
where prayer has been valid...

(4 Quartets: Little Gidding)

I thought I would be spending most of my time on discernment, trying to decide the next steps to take in this journey that is my life. Of course I was also looking forward to the support of a spiritual community and other young adults in similar situations, but pretty soon those spiritual hungers took over my practical quest and I was fully immersed in the program schedule:
7am morning office, work projects from 1-4pm, group book discussions on Tuesday and Friday from 11-12, silence from 4-5, evening office at 5, dinner on Wednesdays at 6, Friday night movie after communion service, Saturday morning chores from 9-12 and sabbath vigil/compline at 7:30pm followed by silence until Sunday morning. Saturday and/or Sunday afternoons often involved community outings, visiting local sites of historic/cultural/religious significance or going on walks in the woods/on the beach. Sunday brunch was the big feast of the week, when usually all of the retreatants would be present. Mondays were much needed "desert days" of solitude. Plus there were often special things going on during the week: a trip south to visit Ballintubber Abbey, a Celtic Christian ceremony at a Holy Well, a play, a trad session at a pub.

The questions about my future have not been answered, and yet I seem to have made some peace with the idea of simply trying to live in touch with myself and with God and trusting that as I do so, things will unfold...  Advent is all about clearing a place in your heart for God to enter in; trusting the goodness of God enough to let the Spirit take root in your soul and be born into the world through you.

May beauty and grace find you this Christmas season,

autumn

gratitude

so much has happened on so many different levels of life this week, that i can hardly believe that one week could contain so much goodness: pottery with Paddy, singing workshops with Petra, masses with Fr. Bernard, a festive Thanksgiving meal, a music-filled birthday celebration, a beautiful advent service, a mud-filled walk in the bay with Paddy, homemade scones by Barbara, an exhilaratingly windy beach walk with Vincent, some deep email exchanges with friends back home, and two affirming emails from my mother...
on Wednesday i wrote in my journal "i feel like i could be the sunshine on this wet, windy, grey day!"

the overwhelming feeling in my heart this week has been gratitude. 

gratitude, gratitude, gratitude.

gratitude for the beauty of God revealed in creation and music.
gratitude for friends old and new who have enough mutual love and trust to be able to share deeply and honestly and hold each other up in our joys, our sorrows, our challenges, our questions.
gratitude for the community we have formed with our neighbors, for their generosity, hospitality, humor, and wisdom.
gratitude for [Catholic] priests who do radical things and who let us [Protestants] take communion
gratitude for my parents who love me and encourage me to follow my heart
gratitude for my own journey of spiritual growth and the peaceful place i find myself in at the moment
and this week especially: gratitude for Caroline and Alex and their passionate spirits! this is paired with much sadness, too, about the departure of our dear companions on this contemplative journey
- and yet the joy remains.

a not-quite-poem

(upon being requested to write a reflection about action and contemplation...)

over the weekend, i kept being stopped in my tracks at the sight of the way certain leaves would catch the sunlight and seem to glow almost like lightbulbs. sitting in worship on sunday, with the light streaming in through the windows i was, as often happens, filled with such a sense of joy and life and peace and, well, fullness...and i thought, “how do i share that with others?” so i spent the day looking for a metaphor, of something (in nature) that fills with light and then transmits that light to others. it would have been easy enough to use the symbol of water, of a vessel being filled with water until it overflows, but that didn’t seem very original. plus, i was looking for light. the moon also offered itself as an image, but it seemed a rather over-used cliche as well. and not quite appropriate, because the moon itself doesn’t fill with light, it just reflects it...

and then i went to the chapel to pray,
and there was the beautiful crucifix,
and there was the window which,
from my lowly vantage point (the floor)
perfectly framed a bare tree on the hillside and i thought:
     in order to keep living, the tree must
     give up its golden jewels to make space for
     new life. it is the never-ending
     cycle of growth, death, re-birth; of
     resurrection; of
     the spiritual life
through water, soil,
photosynthesis
we are fed, we grow
we are filled with the holy spirit;
and when we come to maturity,
our leaves turn into sparking jewels
     topaz and ruby
     filled with light!
but as we revel in this new-found beauty, we must
     eventually,
     by will or by force,
     let it go
     send it forth
     die to ourselves
     in order to serve the world’s needs
     for replenishment.
and yet through that very act,
we receive back again that very same gift
which after a period of rest, of dormancy, revives us
to begin again.

through prayer, silence, and contemplation, one grows and is filled with the glory of God until it can no longer contain itself, and it spills out into active service for the world, and is restored to fullness and new growth through further reflection and contemplation...

suspended joy

in the woods outside my window 

amber jewels shimmer suspended
in the air

oh the magic of sunlight in autumn!

the trees cling to their 

      beautiful ornaments their
      golden treasures their
      shining
      dying
      treasures

they offer them out to me
      fingers aflame
            see?
            look at what God can do
            !

unable to contain such joy,
the beech tree shakes with delight
and sends showers of glistening
teardrops
onto the waiting
hungry
earth below.

lessons from a clothespin

think of a clothesline. if the line is a spectrum representing God, then the clothespins are people, clinging to their beliefs about God. as the line gets blown about in the wind, they hang on tight with their faith and weather the storms that come their way. occasionally, heavy burdens come upon them which in the wind will sometimes cause them to twist and strain and even snap!

but there’s one little clothespin that spins freely round and around, sliding up and down the line as it moves in the wind. the others don’t understand – she doesn’t appear to be useful at all; no grip on reality, impossible to pin down, completely impractical! and yet, she never snaps and falls.

she has embraced the mystery of God, giving her the freedom to explore and celebrate, and the flexibility to face life’s challenges with an open mind...

little sailboat

today i am a little sailboat
  (who once upon a time set off
   across the big wide ocean
   her sail full of hopes and dreams and anticipation for
   a soul-full adventure
   into life
   and toward god...)

today i am a little sailboat
adrift.

the air still and heavy
the sail slack for lack of a breeze
and, having run out of fuel to motor my way along,
there is
   nothing
i can do to direct or propel myself onward
  (not that i would know which direction to go
  anyway, given the clouds)

   where am i?
   where am i going?
   how will i ever get there?

the only thing i can do is
wait
and rely on the ocean current to carry me
slowly
along...

(and someday
the wind will pick up again, i know)

the trees are black

(this is the first of two poems that i wrote this past week, not noticing until rereading them later how similar their themes were...must be a lot of waiting and trusting going on inside me right now!)

the trees are black

against a deep dark blue and yet
i know that they are green:
  green-and-brown-and-yellow-and-grey
...i have seen them.

the trees are black.

they stand un-self-consciously
their beautiful half-naked figures silhouetted
by the shining blue
sapphire light of early morning

waiting.
patiently

for the earth to turn (as it always does) towards
the sun; and be illumined
in all their autumnal glory.  and yet -
for now

the trees are black.

(pause)

8 months, 2 incredible and busy internships, and 1 wonderful whirlwind trip with my parents later, it's time to pause.
re-collect myself.
reflect.
integrate my experiences with my understanding of myself, my call, my spirituality.

what better place to do that than at a contemplative monastery?

the place is Holy Hill Hermitage, a Carmelite community in Skreen, Ireland, founded in connection to the Spiritual Life Institute based in Crestone, Colorado.  The four monks (3 sisters, 1 brother) are all from the US.

i am here with 5 other young people taking part in a "young adult contemplative experience."  together, we will be exploring our spirituality, participating in the monastery's rhythm of life and prayer, of community and solitude, through readings, discussions, and time spent outdoors in nature and getting to know the local community.

i don't know yet if my travels abroad are over for the time being, or if my time here will re-invigorate me, but i plan to remain here at least until the end of November.  where i go from here may well have more to do with the balance of my bank account than by any other ambitions for travel and exploration, although "home" (though i have many "homes" to choose from thanks to all of you wonderful people!) is beginning to tug me back in that direction as well...

synchronicity

in this time of uncertaintly about my future, i couldn't help but notice the synchronicity that today's scripture reading was the same one that helped me so much in my confusion four years ago (four years!).  it was the story of jesus walking on water and petter getting out of the boat to walk towards him.

last time, i interpreted the story much more metaphorically - about my faith journey, leaving behind the familiar, venturing into a more universal spirituality, and being supported in that journey by god.  this time, it was more literal, about physical journeys and callings.
"if you call me, i will come" says peter.  and jesus does, so peter steps out of the boat and goes.
my thought process went like this:
1) i'm waiting to hear that call
but 2) i'm not listening very actively, paying attention, reading, reflecting, writing, things that will help me hear it
then again, 3) peter didn't just stand there looking at jesus and waiting for him to call him out onto the water, he initiated it by asking jesus to call him!
so 4) i need to be not just listening, but asking... 

Camas Poems

some poems i wrote while at Camas:

C reative
A dventures
M eaning
A alive
S pirit

~

J ourneying to wild places
O bserving the outdoors
H iking through heather
N oticing new things

M aking meaning out of mysteries
U nearthing the undiscovered
I nner insights and inklings
R esolving to return

 (John Muir, the man who helped Teddy Roosevelt set up the National Park system in the US, was born in Scotland.  Camas is a certified provider of the John Muir Award, which involves Discovering, Exploring, Conserving and Sharing wild places.)

~

4 Haikus

flickering candles

slugs eat the pale strawberries

simple Camas life

so remote and wild

unspoilt natural beauty

sheep poo in the grass

cold and stuck inside

what shall we do with this day?

tea break time again!

islands disappear

rain beads upon my wooly

a Scottish summer

time to go again...

"it is time to go now
haul away your anchor
haul away your anchor
'tis our sailing time"

At our little "Camas Festival" last week, we all sang this sailing song together in 3-part harmony...It was our "closing party" for the 2011 season, and all of a sudden I became painfully aware of how near the end is.
It's really just in the past month that I feel like I've gotten truly comfortably close with everyone - close enough to give out random hugs and tease people...and I'm really going to miss them all and the funky little community we've built together; the mad dashes through the rain to our candle-lit rooms; the cats always trying to sneak inside; the sheep scratching their backs on the tree branch; the grey herons; the dramatic tidal changes; sitting by the fire in the common room knitting or crocheting and playing music; being asked to hold the baby; fresh scones for breakfast every day; Friday night services on Iona; West-Wing-Watching; daily fresh bread; kayaking; conversations with caring friends; staff dishwashing discos; and most of all, the laughter.

adventures in bogland

i did a very silly thing on my day off last week, which invovled me getting very wet and tired.

i've been wanting to go to Lochbuie all season, having read about the ivy-strewn castle and the ancient stone circle located there, and being captivated by the scenic valley leading to it with its three consecutive lochs.

i left Camas at 1:30 and hitchhiked all the way, first to Bunessan, then Pennyghael, then to the top of the trailhead, arriving there at 3:45.  mistake number one: getting out of the truck there, rather than letting it take me to the Lochbuie road turnoff...  It was an insane decision, which i didn't realize until it was too late.

i had enjoyed a warm sunny walk up until that point, but about 10  minutes after i started hiking, it began to rain -- so not only was i getting wet from the top down, i was also getting wet from the group up... As the hike was along a lake, i had been expecting the path to be boggy, but it was very rough going, with uneven tufts of grass and small channels.  I couldn't say how many times I almost twisted an ankle by slipping and tripping along a path that turned out to be more bog than trail.  There were at least 7 creeks/waterfalls to ford, full of water from the previous day's rainfall, making it quite difficult to find adequate crossing points.  Eventually the rain stopped and the trail evened out, turning into a rocky creek-bed instead of a bog...  I stopped at least 3 times along the way to empty out my wellies and wring out my socks!

The last part of the hike was beautiful - the sun came out and dried out my clothes, the river turned into a waterfall, and you could see the view down to Lochbuie.  The stone circle and Moy castle (covered in scaffolding) were a disappointing reward for such a rough journey, but the shoreline was simply stunning.
 
It was past 7 by the time I started heading back, and it was at this point that I became fully aware of the predicament I'd gotten myself into.  I had only seen two people down at the Loch, and there were very few houses, meaning my chances of getting a lift back up the road to Craignure were practically nil.  I had walked one mile up the road, and just passed the marker stating "Craignure - 13 miles" when a lovely elderly couple drove by on their way to a function in town for the evening.  They let me off at the Craignure road junction, and only 5 minutes later I got another lift from a woman heading home to Bunessan -- wow did I feel lucky!
Now, Bunessan is only 2.5 miles from Camas, but it was 9pm when I got there, hungry and tired - too weak to feel brave, and not desperate enough to be bold.  So instead of seeking out the people I knew to help me get those last couple miles down the road, I just kept walking.  and walking.  and walking.

It was dark, and none of the 5 cars that passed me stopped to ask where I was going or what my situation was.  So I kept walking and jogging, with a few pauses to sit and recuperate, east some nuts, and wonder why I hadn't gone to find someone to drive me or a phone to call Camas...  my consolation was the light provided by a beautiful moon, and that my legs hadn't given out on me, even though just about everything else had...

I finally made it to the top of the track at 10:15pm, and began making my flashlight-less way back to Camas.  I was 5 minutes away when I saw the bouncing beam of a flashlight ahead of me, and Rosie and Adam were soon within sight, having come on a rescue mission to find me!  It didn't matter that I was almost back - it was still an an overwhelming feeling of relief and joy and being cared for, and I was overwhelmed with gratitude.  they even saved me some dinner, but after a small snack, i fell asleep quite promptly!  whew.

magical

here's the post i wrote for the Camas blog about a recent week.  follow the link, and then read some of the entries by other staff members about other groups and happenings this summer!

http://thecamasdiary.blogspot.com/2011/07/magical.html

onion-less cooking

usually i'm excited to have people eat a meal that i've made - but not yesterday.  it was my turn to cook dinner last night, and for some reason i was feeling really unispired.  it was a strange feeling.  i didn't have a sense of accomplishment or joy, and i didn't particularly enjoy making it or eating it. 

i made tortillas, black beans, rice, and courgettes (zucchini, for all you americans), with lettuce, spiced up canned tomatoes, and cheese.  everyone loved it -- many of them had never had or even heard of black beans before!  but i, as the cook, wasn't really feeling it.  at least their enjoyment of it made me feel a bit better.

i stood there in the kitchen for ages, trying to think of something interesting to do with the beans and courgettes, but to no avail.  i just felt tired and dazed, and my brain wouldn't cooperate with the job i was supposed to be doing.

and all because we didn't have any onions...

gardening galore

i wore a tank top two days in a row, and shorts, for the first time this year!  been working hard in the garden, weeding, clearing the paths, preparing a new bed, hauling compost.

i got a scratch on my right foot, a scrape just under my right knee, a nettle sting on my left thumb, and a sunburn to go along with everything else - not a complete day of outdoor work without something to show for it! 

i'm glad to have tomorrow off, because i'm actually tired of gardening...i can hardly believe i'm saying that! i guess it's just because it's been nonstop these last couple of days.

a whole week of fantastic

We just had two fantastic, beautiful days - (addendum: actually a whole week) - of gardening, wonderful weather and fun!  No kids this week, just some lovely visitors to help with the work.

Today i helped transplant broccoli and then released the rhubarb plants from the grass that was smothering it and gave it some compost.  Hopefully it will be twice the size by next week!*  After i finished with the rhubarb, i spent the remainder of my afternoon off laying crosswise between two lazy beds** in the sunshine for about 45 minutes, just smiling.  people have commented to me about how happy/calm i look when i've been gardening, and i do feel that way -- it's cool to know that it's noticeable!

Not only did i get to spend lots of time in the sun and soil, i also went for a bike ride to Kintra and a walk through an abandoned village, kayaked all the way up the salt marsh at high tide, where we could see little flowers growing in the grass under the water, and then out to the end of the bay with its amazing view of the Burg.  We ended the week with an evening reflection involving a hike up to the top of the western ridge, from whence we dropped shells into a pool of water, watched the sunset, and were captivated by the stunning views in all directions.

today it's back to the miserable rain and cold...

* two weeks later, the rhubarb doesn't look like it's grown an inch... :(
** if you check out my photos, you'll see pictures of the lazy beds in the garden.  between the set of raised beds, there a ditches for drainage, which create a perfect hollow for your bum, while resting your back on one bank and your feet on the edge of the opposite bed.  if the ground isn't too wet, that is.

Well, I've been here exactly a month now, and to my chagrin I haven't written any more updates.  However, you CAN read weekly-ish updates about what's happening at Camas on the Camas blog (called the camas diary), which will give you a good taste of what my life is like in general...

If you're not on my email list, here's the most recent summary of my life here:

This past month has consisted of getting to know the group of 10 staff I'll be living and working with until September, two full weeks of training, a couple of trips over to Iona, a wonderful visit from my good friend Gretchen, and our first two weeks of youth programs.  And lots of rain.  It was a bit of a shock to arrive here after two amazingly summery weeks in Northern Ireland where I was eating fresh spinach and rhubarb from the garden, and encounter such cold weather and a much later growing season.  We just had our first lettuce from the polytunnel this week!

 

In a typical week, a group will arrive on Saturday afternoon and leave on Friday morning.  The staff team takes turns cooking meals and leading different activities such as kayaking, hiking, raftbuilding, abseiling (rapelling), camping, arts & crafts, games, or other outdoor activities such as working in the garden or shelter-building.  After breakfast, which consists of porridge and scones, and chores we have morning reflection with the group.  lunch is always soup and fresh bread.  dinner is followed by evening reflection.  

 

staff also take turns leading the reflections, and i've found that aspect of life here to be the least fulfilling because many of the staff are either not that interested in spirituality or aren't comfortable using God-language with the groups.  It's only frustrating because it's not what I expected, given the mission statement and the Iona connection.  However, every Friday we go over to Iona, and I get the chance to attend worship in the Abbey and connect with volunteers there, and there are a few of us who do yoga in the mornings a few days a week, so that's all very nice.

 

At the moment I'm trying to decide when to take my week-long vacation this summer and where to go.  One idea I've had is to volunteer and attend the Greenbelt Festival down in Cheltenham, England, as long as I'm over in this part of the world!  Or perhaps find a super-cheap ticket to somewhere else in Europe...Any suggestions?  My term at Camas ends on September 17th, but my UK visa doesn't expire until early October, so I'd love to make use of it and do some more exploring or WWOOFing while I'm here!

If any of you are thinking of making a trip to Iona or Scotland or the UK between now and October, be in touch!

a "knackering" week

whew, that was a WOW of a week, full of ups and downs, fun, uplifting, draining...  I got to go abseiling and kayaking and hang around playing and singing our of Rise up Singing; built a shelter, did some gardening, made a fabulous swede & cardamom soup, ate some salad (first of the season!), collected some cow manure and seaweed for the garden, led an evening reflection, and rode a bike to Fionnphort and Kintra on my day off.

The group took a lot of energy - eight 18-20 year-old male students from a Steiner school, all with some mild-medium form of autism.    Mostly they were fun, funny, and brilliant, but sometimes they got overly demanding, loud, inappropriate, and, well...frustrating...and it was tricky to know how to respoind given their age and disabilities.  We were very glad that they had a 1:1 ratio of staff and students. 

And I'm very glad that we get two weeks off now with no groups! because I'm just "knackered".  it'll be just us, the sheep and the garden and maintenance projects and some visitors... (yay Emily!)

the season begins

Our first group has come and gone.  It took me a while to integrate with the teens, because my week started out with a day in the kitchen and then a day and a half off (while Gretchen was visiting!) and then more time in the kitchen. I didn't really have a chance to get to know them until Wednesday, when we did shelter-building in the woods, and then when we hiked to Trig Point on Thursday morning. 

I helped two of them plan their final reflection on Thursday evening, which was really great because they were excited about it and had their own ideas for it.  I just got to guide them a little; help them think about format and logistics, and encourage them.  It was fantastic.

I just really have a difficult time connecting with teenageres!  I knew this before coming to Camas, and it's always been true, even when I was a teenager myself...  I'll get a lot of practice this summer though, so hopefully I'll figure some things out and get more comfortable as the weeks go on...

Day 3

In which I wake up at 7am, take a shower and eat a late breakfast followed by some child protection training and a late lunch, after which some laundry is done and hung outside to dry whilst a number of us hike through the boggy hills to the bay and play on the beach, whereupon it begins to rain and we scurry to put our socks and shoes on over our wet sandy feet and tromp back through the bog (I without a rainjacket) and bring the clothes in from the line; and in which I video-Skype with my parents (for the first time in 3 months), enjoy a delicious dinner, play a funny word game, and diddle around on the guitar before dashing back to my bedroom in the rain at 11pm.

Camas

After a train, a ferry across the Irish Sea, a taxi, another train, a night at a hostel in Glasgow, a train through Scotland's gorgeous mountains and valleys and lakes, another ferry, a bus, and a 30-minute walk, I have arrived at Camas Tuath (North Bay), Ardfenaig, Bunessan, the Isle of Mull, Scotland - 25 hours after departing Kilcranny House.

Life at Camas will be quite an adjustment after life at Kilcranny, most noticeably as regards my personal independence, proximity and transportation to towns/cities, and access to the internet.  Because I'm living here with a staff team of 12 people, the daily schedule and chores are more structured (things will of course get even more different as soon as we begin having groups of young people in beginning in a couple of weeks!).  The Centre is situated at the end of a mile-long track, a half-hour's walk from the main road, and the nearest small towns are 5 miles away in either direction, requiring a bicycle or use of the camp van or the infrequent bus or a hitch.  We have internet access here, but only one on one computer which is shared among the staff and which is also the office computer used for work.

The team here is wonderful, and very musical, and I love having our tasty communal meals together.  We have staff from different parts of Scotland and England as well as someone from Australia, two of us from the US, and one from Sweden.  After our trainings this week and next, I'll be able to tell you more about the kinds of programs we'll be leading with the groups that come!

For now, I'll just close with a brief description from the Camas brochure:
"Camas is part of the Iona Community, an organisation rooted in the Christian tradition of social justice, action for peace, and an open and inclusive spirituality.  A commitment to providing a positive experience for young people and others experiencing poverty and social exclusion is at the heart of all our work, including with youth groups, young offenders, homeless people, and those seeking to overcome addiction."
And the mission statement: "Together we seek to enable growth in love, respect and awareness of ourselves, each other, God and the environment."

RHUBARB

these past few days my diet has consisted primarily of spinach and rhubarb.  they are the only two crops in the garden that are ready to harvest.  i didn't plant anything else early enough in the greenhouse... :(  in any case, i've been eating a lot of spinach & lettuce salads and sandwiches with hummus, and baking up a rhubarb storm in the kitchen!  unfortunately for him, Mike hasn't aquired the taste for rhubarb yet, because there's LOADS of it in the garden...
two weeks ago it was a rhubarb pie. 
so far this week i've made:
rhubarb crisp
rhubarb coffee cake
strawberry-rhubarb pie
and have plans for a rhubarb custard tart.
i won't have time to make rhubarb sauce or jam, or that would definitely be next on my list!

i certainly can't eat all of these things singlehandedly before i leave in two days!  i guess i'll have some happy co-workers... 

this is why Europe is cool:

it has ancient things.
like 500-year-old castles.
and 1000-year-old monasteries.
and 5000-year-old megalithic sites.
LOTS of them.

I've been having fun exploring them, particularly now that we have a car to drive!

Dunluce, Enniskillen, Kinbane, Carrickfergus...
Dungiven, Bonamarghy,...
stone circles and cairns and raths and forts and tombs and crannogs...

and you'll find them unexpectedly off the side of a road, on a cliff's edge, in the middle of a neighborhood or a field with sheep grazing on it, not listed in the guidebook, sometimes without a signmarker.  just there.  still.  300, 900, 2000, 5000 years later...

Being from Oregon, I remember thinking structures from the 1800s were super-old, and things from before that were ancient!  On the East Coast, I loved seeing things from the 1700s and was awed by things from the 1600s.  (I've been plenty exposed to Native American dwellings, artifacts, structures, etc., which of course are much much older than any of that, but I'm not used to "western architecture" that's as old as that).

Kids in school complain about history class all the time - but as far as the United States goes, there's so little history to learn compared with countries in Europe!  (if you're talking official US history and "Western civilization," which is generally what's taught, with maybe a few global history/ancient civilizations classes thrown in for good measure).

Here, it's kind of disappointing to come across a castle or church that's "only" from the 15- or 1600s!  (a regular house, like a fisherman's cottage, that's different...).  Now, 11th or 12th century, that's more like it!  I'd be really excited to see something from the 4- or 800s...and a stone circle from 5,000 years ago would do nicely...

Of course, it's all fascinating to look at, but it really doesn't have much of an impact unless you know the stories...which I guess is why historic buildings in the US can be just as cool as historic buildings here - because we know the stories about the events that took place there; the people that were there; and that's what gives it meaning, no matter what era it's from.

still...









pretty cool, huh?

to build a forest...

back in January, Conn got excited about trees.  so excited that he applied for a free community tree pack from the Woodland Trust - a pack of native trees for wood-burning: cherry, rowan, birch, ash, and oak.  420 of them.

it fell to Mike and me to carry out the project.  to figure out where to put them, how to lay them out and space them, choose a method for planting, and organize/lead group tree planting events.  and figure out what to do with all of the extra ones!  because what Conn didn't know when he ordered them was that only 200 of them would fit in the field he had allocated for them.  there was a lot of excitement but not a lot of forethought put into this decision...

the trees were delivered on March 10.  it took us two more weeks before we were prepared to plant any of them.  on Monday, April 18th, the last of the trees were finally potted (we managed to get about 300 around the site!  the remainder have been potted).  In between, volunteers and friends of Kilcranny came by to help plant them, and we had three groups from the community: an eco-club from a local elementary school, a pre-school playgroup, and a teenagers in a job training program. 

the group plantings were exciting because i got to use skills that i haven't had a chance to since last summer, and the folks here got to see me in a different role, too.  organizing logistics, coordinating an event, leading a group...none of them was perfectly smooth and flawless, but they all went over well and everyone had fun!  the most chaotic by far was the 4-year-olds playgroup, which included parents and baby/toddler siblings and totalled about 50 people...

we invited people to make dedications, to name a tree in honor of a person, place, or concept, and it's been a really great aspect of the project, particularly to see the young people getting excited about dedicating a tree to someone they love or to their future children, or to peace -- they will not just have a cool memory about planting a tree, they've formed a meaningful connection between themselves and the earth...

so Kilcranny (which is Irish for "church (cille) of the place of many trees (crannagh)) finally has its own Cranagh!  Plus a row of cherry trees near the entrance and a tree-lined path around back.  And two volunteers who have finally figured out how to work together.  :)  

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

This may surprise you, especially if you live in Boston or Chicago, but it's not as easy to celebrate St. Patrick's Day in Northern Ireland as you may think it would be. Like so many other things here, whether you celebrate it or have the day off of work or school has religious/political overtones. It is seen as a mostly Catholic Nationalist holiday, and schools and businesses have the choice to remain open or not. Coleraine, being a Plantation town, is still primarily Protestant, and there were no city-wide, city-sponsored events, although some community organizations and schools had programs.

I had thought of going to [London]Derry (another religious/political distinction), which has a much larger Catholic population and a big outdoor festival with music and a parade – but I got a late start because it was rainy this morning, only to learn that the buses and trains were on holiday schedules, which ended up making it unfeasible for me to get there in time for the festivities.

So instead I went to Portstewart, wandered the cold and windy Promenade, and sat in on the last hour of a community music and dance concert at the town hall, which was filled with families and little noisy kids running around. That was followed by some coffee and a chocolate-filled croissant in a cafe on the Promenade, reading my book, and walking along the shore a bit more. By this time, the sky had cleared, the sun had come out, and the evening was calm and beautiful, and I got to watch the sun set over the water. At 6:15 I hopped on the bus to Portrush, wandered the [very quiet] streets a bit, and then headed back to Coleraine and Kilcranny.

I bought some Guinness on the way home to share with Mike, since he'd decided not to go out, and we celebrated in style with our cans of Guinness and some freshly baked Irish soda bread...because if you're going to be in Ireland on St. Patrick's Day, you have to do something Irish!

Tomorrow - planting potatoes? That seems to be the farmers' Paddy's Day tradition!

flight

i watch the birds – crows and gulls, mostly, but also that striking black and white one whose name i do not know – i watch them in the air on these windy days; how the gusts and gales push them about faster, slower, up, down, sideways, even backwards, wreaking havoc on their usually graceful flight. i imagine what it might feel like, this experience of surrendering to the powerful, unpredictable wind.

Do they find it frustrating because it only serves to make their hunt for food more difficult? Or do they choose to take wing just for the fun of it? Do they fly only because they have to, or also because they want to?

Do birds feel joy?

Flying on a day like this seems like it would be so much more exciting than on a calm day...more exhilarating, requiring more skill and awareness. It's hard to believe they do it purely out of necessity, because they make such graceful patterns in the sky, rarely seeming to have a destination. Do they know that they are beautiful?

seeing them soar always makes me wish i could fly, but instead i just watch and imagine...can i live my earth-bound life with the same kind of grace, joy, and dependency on god's wind-spirit? time to practice being a bird...

happy international women's day!

in honor of international women's day, I thought I would share this reflection that I wrote last week:

I just watched “Stardust” - a whimsical, funny, sweet, fairy-tale. (Robert deNiro's gay pirate captain was the best character of the movie, but that's not what prompted me to write this...)

The self-proclaimed theme of the movie is that it's the story of how a young man grew up from a boy into a man. That's all fine and good, but later on I got to thinking...

I'm a young woman, and I'm at the stage of my life right now where I'm trying to grow up from a girl into a woman. The movie inspired that line of thought, but that's where it ended – I couldn't follow it any further, because unlike the premise of the movie, I'm not trying to become a man...

So where are the movies about young women growing up, and if they exist, what do they look like? Because they certainly don't look anything like this one or the other hundreds of coming-of-age movies about boys learning how to be men, finding themselves, becoming chivalrous and honorable... And Hollywood can make romantic comedies out of these stories. But how does the story change if the main character is female? It doesn't work to just switch the roles. If anything, the movies that do exist about women facing reality and growing up are generally not presented as comedies or fun, inspiring tales. Usually they're serious, if not depressing.

Any thoughts or movie recommendations?

on finding, settling, sorting, and being happy

i have been in northern ireland for exactly one month, so i figure it's about time for a progress report from me... i will frame it with four questions that have been echoing in my ears these past four weeks.

(*pronunciation guide: how = a mix between who/hue/hie; to = tie/toy; you = yu/yi)

"how are you findin' things?"

As Mike likes to quip, "we just look, and there they are." (however, it's difficult to find tofu, molasses, caraway, or cornmeal...)

It's a good way to avoid answering the question when you have a less than glowing review, and I think both he and I found things a little less...favourable than we anticipated. That is to say, when the reality of what our lives and work would be like here sunk in, it was rather disenchanting - which simply means, not as enchanting as the description looks in print or in the expectations you've build up in your head. It's just, well, kind of normal...a very small, somewhat disorganized, financially strained non-profit organization in a period of transition, with all the blessings and curses that that brings...

To give an example: I wasn't aware until I arrived that the whole accommodation block - which is where we host groups for residential reconciliation programs - was out of commission, having been flooded due to burst pipes in December - and will be until late April, which means no residential groups until then.

"how are you settlin'?"

you don't settle in here, you just settle. It's a slow process. Especially when Mike and I are pretty much left completely to our own devices as far as figuring out how to work and live together and be a community (or not) is concerned. and that's made even more challenging by the fact that we both have very similar quiet, introverted personalities. but after four weeks, we're beginning to settle into the schedule, the expectations, our roles, our surroundings. i've been enjoying exploring the local vicinity from Castlerock to Coleraine to Portstewart, getting a feel for my geographic place on this planet and a bit of a taste for the local culture.
Northern Ireland being a "first-world" English-speaking country, I haven't experienced too much in the way of culture shock, so the adjustment has been much faster and easier than, say, if I'd gone to...well, almost anywhere else that doesn't speak English. Of course, it also makes me very aware of the few things that are quite different, because they stand out more (like the vocabulary or the almost tabloidesque newspapers, or the funny-looking street signs, or the lack of a farmer's/local food market...).

"we'll need to get yous guys sorted"

and you don't get sorted out, just sorted. Sorted for food money, background checks, and trainings (and laundry, banking, health care, driving lessons and a car, tv antenna, keys...none of which are sorted yet). The washing machine is broken, the tv guy hasn't shown up yet, the car has been fixed but can't be picked up for inspection yet because the repair shop wants to get paid first and Kilcranny doesn't have the money to pay for it until a few more checks come through...

we've gone through a child protection training course, a 1st aid course, and a food safety & hygiene course, so we're all sorted for those, although they're not very useful yet, since we don't really have groups coming in...

"are you happy enough with that?"

(this was the question continually posed to us by our 1st aid trainer and our food safety instructor. you just showed me a picture of a laceration and i'm supposed to be happy? now i'm responsible for making sure myself and others follow a bunch of procedures that i think are ridiculous or unnecessary, and you're asking if i'm happy?)

i am. i am happy enough. i am happy enough for now.

it's a matter of finding a way to take things as they come, let them be what they are, and figure out how to create happiness within that framework, rather than dwelling on how things are not and wishing the circumstances were different. and so i will make do with what i've been given, take what life has presented me with, and make the most of it. be independent, make my own decisions, make friends, ask questions, do my best, give thanks for the blessings, pray, and laugh as much as possible.

paperboy

The other night, I attended a book reading by local author Tony Macauley. It did exactly what those kinds of things are meant to do, which is make you want to read the book. In this case, the book is Paperboy, a memoir about Tony's life in the Shankill, Belfast as a 12-14-year-old paperboy from 1974-6.

Read it. I plan to, whenever Conn gets around to bringing his copy by.

And, in a few years, go see the movie (screenplay in process).

Conn had asked last week if we were interested in going, talking it up as one of Northern Ireland's favorite and famous authors. He neglected to mention that Tony was also a personal friend of his. Turns out, Tony's primary work has been with peace & reconciliation programs, particularly for youth, in Northern Ireland. Also turns out, he was Conn's first boss after Conn finished his degree, hiring him to run a new program he had just started. (sorry about how vague that is -- i'll try to find out the actual details...)

Northern Ireland is a small place.

Portstewart

If you read a tourist guidebook for Ireland, you likely won't find Portstewart in it. Or at least, not for its own sake. It's a small coastal town, overshadowed by its larger neighbor Portrush, which is the launching point for sites of interest further east - namely, Dunluce Castle, the Giant's Causeway, and the Bushmills Distillery. In fact, besides Belfast and Derry, the Antrim coast is the only other place in Northern Ireland deserving of mention in many guidebooks. Perhaps that's because they don't seem to make guidebooks solely for Northern Ireland... In any case, I haven't made it to any of those other places yet, but I DID make it to Portstewart on Saturday! And I'm so glad I did.

The weather around here makes it difficult to plan outings. When I went to bed on Friday night, it was rainy, windy, and stormy. I had no plans for the weekend because I knew that I wouldn't want to do anything at all if the weather didn't change. But Saturday arrived clear and calm, so all of a sudden I was left wondering what to do and where to go! I had a slow enough morning that I knew a train ride to Derry wasn't in the cards, and besides, I was limited by having to incorporate a 45-minute walk into Coleraine and back in order to go anywhere. So I looked up the bus schedules to Portrush and Portstewart and decided, well, I'll at least go into town, and once I'm there I'll decide whether to catch a bus or not.

On my way out, I stopped to chat with our part-time groundskeeper who was working in his garden allotment, saying I hadn't decided if I would go in to Portstewart or not - but before I could even finish my sentence, he said, so matter-of-factly, "Oh, you'll go!" Well, then, that settled it. He even offered to drive me to the bus station.

£2.90 and a 10-minute bus ride later, I stepped off the bus in Portstewart and spent 2 1/2 hours traversing its jagged, rocky coastline, complete with beach, 1600s fisherman's cottage, 1830s castle, and golf course. The coolest part was the walk along the edge of the cliff under the castle/convent/college. The shoreline and promenade were teeming with people, and of course it was absolutely beautiful. It was simply a magnificent, splendid, sunny and breezy 50-degree afternoon. Topped off by some "chips with curry" (fries with curry sauce!) to devour on the bus ride back.

And that's what a wee bit of encouragement can do to a wee idea.

You can view the photo album here.

digging in the dirt

today = fabulous.

Sunny and warm, it felt like April or a warm March day, and I got to dig in the dirt! :) my endorphins are happy.

A lot of people were here today working in their allotments, just like me, beginning to prepare the beds (Kilcranny has 13 plots rented out). I'm so energized and excited about gardening! I had forgotten how good it makes me feel.

In this case, I think it makes me extra-happy because it gives me a project I can take [at least partial] ownership of, and gives me a sense of purpose and direction that I've been lacking so far. With no one else assigning me tasks or schedules, it gives me something to do that I know how to do and that I can structure my day around.

and it's spring! (at least compared to being buried under snow in Boston!)

day one

Day one of information overload and overstimulation.

I met all of the staff and got talked talked talked at all morning long. Well, all day really, until about 3pm, and then we were supposed to meet with Rachel to find out about her Future Communities project, but my brain couldn't handle it and I took a nap instead.

Later, rejuvinated, Mike and I walked into Coleraine so he could do some money changing and shopping. It was a nice, 45-minute walk each way. I'm looking forward to having a bike, because there are so many towns and interesting places nearby, but not quite within walking distance. having a car will be nice too, but I'm particularly interested in getting the bike cleaned up and in working order -- apparently it's in the stone barn covered with toxic pigeon feces...

Right now I'm feeling rather constrained and unenthusiastic about life here and muy job description. I hope that changes as the week goes on with its orientations, trainings, and conversations! Because I want to love it here, and I want to have fun. :)

Boston to Belfast, and beyond!

My journey into the damp northerly lands has begun.

At 12:45PM on Saturday, I walked off the airplane that I'd been on for 10 hours into a perfectly typical drizzly 45-degree day and rode through the Northern Irish countryside to Kilcranny House, a drive that felt oddly familiar to my senses after all those trips home to Oregon from Minnesota at Christmastime. Well, except for the fact that we were driving on the wrong side of the road and the signs were white with blue or red, not yellow with black.

Kilcranny is located just outside of Coleraine, close to the western banks of the River Bann. Portstewart is to the north of us on the opposite side of the river and Portrush farther north and east along the Antrim coast, in the direction of the Giant's Causeway and Dunluce Castle. From the top of the drive, we can see where the river runs into the sea, and the town of Castlerock across the bay. We're about 90 minutes northwest of Belfast and 45 minutes east of Derry.

This is where I'll be for the next three months, living in the newly renovated farmhouse with my compatriot Mike, from Pennsylvania, who's here for a year through the Brethren Volunteer Service. Our main duties as residential volunteers are to be caretakers of the buildings and grounds (including gardening) and hosts to the groups that use the facilities. I am also looking forward to being able to participate in some of the peace & reconciliation programs that they do out in the community, especially with schoolchildren. For now, please go to Kilcranny'swebsite to learn more about the organization and what they do -- you'll get more first-hand impressions and accounts from me later on!

temporarily uncentered

If I didn't know that this lifestyle I'm living right now was temporary, I think I'd be going crazy. I'd be trying to find a way to become part of a community, looking for meaning, having a spiritual crisis even, and in general be really frustrated with my life.

I've found that in this urban, independent, work-a-day lifestyle (even though I love my job!), I don't know how to be centered in God. I've been using a Celtic prayer book to do brief morning and nighttime prayers to try and ground myself spiritually at least a little, but ironically, it sometimes makes it harder! Here's why: for the past year I've been living in the woods and the countryside, surrounded by nature, which is where I feel closest to God and most connected to my spirituality, and the prayer book uses a lot of nature imagery and metaphor. But I'm living in the city now! And that language simply doesn't connect with what I'm experiencing. In fact, sometimes it makes me resent what I'm experiencing, which is exactly NOT what prayer is supposed to do. It's supposed to help you connect with your own soul, and to God and to center you spiritually in your reality (among other things). So if I were to stay in the city longer, I would need to find a prayer resource that helps me do that in an urban context, using urban imagery and metaphors to speak of the spiritual experience.

But I'm not frustrated with my life or worried about getting stuck in an unfulfilling rut, because instead, I'm leaving in two weeks!

picture perfect...

Thank you, CVS, for printing my photos correctly! And no thanks to you, Walgreens! At least I didn't have to pay for all of their messed-up prints, but they still set me back a whole 3 days in getting my UK visa application submitted.

Of course I take responsibility for taking so long to get around to getting the photos printed in the first place, but still -- what kind of "Photo Tech" at a photo printing place doesn't recognize when their machine is messing up? No, my original was not out of focus, not even when zoomed in. it was a perfectly good, perfectly clear picture. It was so obvious -wasn't it?- that the blue-red color alignment was off! I'm sure I pointed that out 4 or 5 times. But nobody could seem to figure out why or what to do about it. Hello? Well, I hope the other customers who were having hundreds of prints made this week are happy with how theirs turned out...

Meanwhile, I'll be putting my application in the main tomorrow, so I can go to Northern Ireland in February!