When I Was An Irish Writer

My Ireland evenings.  They are superb.  Everyone else is sleeping.  I am not.  I am writing.  And then I am reading.  Both make me happy.  The quiet is light and burden free.  The air through the tilted open skylight is so fresh and cool.  Fresh from the ocean around this little world.   In my mind, out there in the darkness lives from the past are still being lived.  Their pasts not resolved.  Their futures depending on the present.  On us.  To resolve the conflicts that keep them here.  The nights I am alone I am not.  I enjoy the nights with the unseen life of Ireland’s history.

I have spent a good bit of my nights writing.  I have written in the car so as not to lose a thought or special moment.  It has been a highlight of my trip.  It makes me more aware of every moment.  The feelings.  The adventure.  The fun.

I can say I have been where the Irish writers have been.  I may not have the quality.  But by now I have the quantity.   We will be going to Inis Mein in a few days and I hope to find Synge’s chair, and sit in it.  I have been to Joyce’s tower.  I have sat upon a bench with Oscar Wilde.  I have likely been in places that have housed many a grand Irish thought and written word, but I have not known it.   Great and lovely thoughts permeate this nation.  The passion and love for their country, their culture, is inspiring on it’s own.  Whether it is written or not.   But it is  even more so as I allow myself, rightly   or not, to be Irish.

In a matter of days we will be on Inish Mo`r and I hope to sit atop the rock formed island where my forefathers lived and breathed.  I would hope to be inspired and write something brilliant.  But I will be content to sit there to write my blog.  And to later remember how I feel to be there. I want to write something that upon my return home I can read it and be transported to that spot, that moment, that feeling.  I can tell you now that I have stood upon Inis Mor before.  I stood in a place that allowed me to see the ocean in nearly every direction.   The air cleaner than any I have ever inhaled.  Closer to the heavens than even when I stood atop Croagh Patrick.  I still remember that moment and feel it upon the memory.

I wish I could impart that feeling to everyone who ever wishes to stand on Irish soil.

My Ireland evenings.

From my last trip to Ireland:  2010

29 thoughts on “When I Was An Irish Writer

  1. Aren’t memories wondrous? And just think that one day one of yours may experience your memories from your writing or traveling to the same places as you have. Memories not only travel far back but they are also carried forward. What fabulous thoughts, Colleen. Another wonderful and thoughtful post. ❤

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  2. Colleen, My 1st thought was take me with you, to gaze out onto the water, to feel the freshness, to catch a breath of the soothing breeze and to be inspired as I am sure you were and will be again. Your words gave me comfort and I have never been there. I can only imagine the comfort you felt. Please take care, Bill

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    • Bill…..I will never forget the first breath. The first smell. The breeze. And standing still and just absorbing. I knew when I left I would want to be able to bring it back. So many times I just stood still and was THERE. 🙂

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  3. Beautiful! I hope you get to visit there again soon. It sounds beyond lovely…and well, I have a yearning to go myself…just wow! So well captured, I am sure you will be blessed again to go. 🙂

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    • I was very lucky to have the chances Niaaeryn. Going doesn’t reduce or eliminate your want to go. It increases your NEED to be there. 😉 But I am happy having been and being able to go back in my words, my pictures, my memories.

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  4. I so loved this Coll, as you took me back to standing on Irish soil. I fell in love with Ireland, my eldest fell in love with an Irishman there, he moved here after a 7 year back and forth relationship and they have been married 4 years. Oh to go back, I probably won’t, but you took me there and I thank you..may the road rise to meet you, may the wind be always at your back…. ❤ xx

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  5. I was transported and felt like I was living a dream from the words you wrote, Colleen! I am part English and Scottish,(father’s ancestors) but my Dad always told me to “honor the Irish,” “never wear anything but Green” on St. Patty’s Day. (Orange was the Episcopalian’s color and my Dad said the English ‘were mean’ to the Irish…)
    I love the way you use words to bring us pictures. I have looked at many gorgeous photos, but I truly love the ‘power’ of the words, you sound like an Irish writer and you are one! Thank you for mentioning all the places where you have been, I especially would like to look out at the ocean from the Inis M’or. What a lovely feeling of lightness and air, green and blue along rocky ledges high. So wonderful, Colleen! Thank you!

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