I accidentally ended up somewhere I have not been in nearly 9 years, down the hill from the graveyard where my granny is buried. I was invited to go for a drive with a friend and we strangely ended up there. It is odd that the area was so unchanged in many ways. My granny lived a very simple life in many ways. I have very happy memories of the area. I spent many happy hours in the field and bog looking for four leaved clovers, catching butterflies and grasshoppers, and trying to identify the names of many plants. I looked forward to the annual events of nature, the frog spawn, the bog orchids, the honeysuckle , the blackberries and crab apples, the very very very rare snow and the crisp days of autumn. My happiest memory is lying on my bed reading Anne of Green Gables listening to the pigeons cooing and the wind rustling through the trees. It was a perfect irish summers day. I was secure and happy. My granny had a very set routine and had set days for visiting the neighbours, going to the shop. A set time for going to the well to draw water and then of course a set time to sit down and relax. My favourite thing was debatable, going to the well was exciting, what new creature would I see, would I see a frog, would there be waterboatmen balancing on the waters surface. She went to the well almost daily. It was a spring she tended in the bog down the road. It gave some of the best water I ever drank and w always followed the path to the well as bogs are dangerous places if you stray off the path. The path had solidified over the years. Many people got the mains water put in but she she not until she was around 80. I loved the peace and tranquility of my childhood field of dreams. I often thought that I imagined the absolute tranquility of the area. The sense of calm and quite, until yesterday. I was around 4 miles west of her house as the crow flies and I experience the same sense of calm and tranquility there. The area was once the hinterland of one of the earliest cities in the county and has many fairy forts and a history of settlement going back many centuries. I started to wonder what drew the early settlers to the area. Why there, who had cleared the land to create my field of dreams and were we related. Had my ancestors walked where I was walking. I had a sense of belonging there. I felt connected. When I left home first I move around many times. I loved the excitement of discovering new places. And now 23 years after I left home I finally understood that the solid grounding I experienced as a child and the routine and repetition of the family stories gave me a sense of connectedness. As my friend drove me back down memory lane I finally felt connected to the world again. We drove down roads I had designed, set out and helped build. We drove along a road that I had helped build which was created through bogs and fields where my father and grandfather hunted with their dogs. As I recounted the history of my connections with the area and pointed out the hidden feature, the spot where the skeleton of the giant Irish red deer was found, the location of the river passing under the road hidden in one of the most beautifully shaped culverts I had ever seen, the spot where I stood after I got the heart breaking news of my friends brothers tragic death, the place where my granny escaped from the savage dog who nearly killed her, the church my great grand father built, the bog that is just off the road that had the most magical pond, the house where my mothers best friend created the most beautiful rose garden I ever visited, I realised that I had a place in the world. That there was a meaning to my existence and that many of my happy memories were buried under the weight of my anxiety and my attempts to be strong. My existential crisis began on Patrick street as I tried to get to visit my father grave on his 10th anniversary. I was under time pressure to get back to collect my children and I was exhausted as I had been overdoing things. I began to sweat and panic so I decided to go back to pick up the children and abandon my desire to visit the grave for the first time since I saw him being put into the ground. Next day I had the swine flu and two weeks later I the existential crisis began, caused primarily I think by the awful exhaustion of the flu and the shocking realisation that I was not immortal. I thought that I would die in the middle of the flu I had been so sick. (bit of an exaggeration as I just had the flu and a high temperature) I could not get out of bed properly for around two weeks and I think I started to contemplate my existence as I lay there too weak to do anything much. My mother blamed my failure to take adequate time to recuperate after the flu for my recent episode and perhaps she is right. the train of thought begun as I lay there was destructive and now I realise that a few weeks of proper rest would have allowed me to put the existential crisis in context rather than dragging myself back to work out of a sense of misplaced responsibility. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Finally I can see why I have not been allowed or encouraged to return to work yet. I am now needing many ounces of prevention. Existential crisis over methinks. I think I will plan a journey to visit the graves of my ancestors. I know where many of them are buried back as far as the famine. Recently my x discoverd that one of our favourite places we visited before we were married An Grianan overlooked the island his grandfather grew up on. His grandfather ran away from home at the age of 11 and ended up living in a different country where he married a local woman. Like many other I emigrted too and met my xh abroad, we eventally ened up living together in donegal and spent many sunday afternoon gazing at Inch Island from the top of the local hill. We has been gazing at his grandfather childhood field of dreams. Since I have become open to how interconnected we are I have begun to wonder if there is some kind of ancestoral memory embedded in us or are we just genetically drawn to the same places and things our ancestors are. Or is it something more mysterious??
If anyone is ever reading this apologies to teh lack of spelling correctiona and editing, but today I am just not ready to corect myself ;-) I am giving myself permission to go to bed before I do my corrections.
Happy Monday
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