DAYS IN DUBLIN

Well, that plan to update you all on my trip fell right through from the get-go, didn't it? We've been so busy that uploading a collection of snapshots from my phone is the best I could before my eyes couldn't stay open anymore!

We have been here in Ireland for several days now, but are taking today as a bit of a rest day - so I thought I'd try and recap the trip so far.

Wednesday

We began the trip in Eugene with an hour's delay -- which, of course, made me a little antsy about getting to our conneting flight. But we made it to San Francisco with plenty of time to spare and were on our way to Dublin.

Joel broke his TV about 3 minutes after sitting in the chair, and despite the flight attendant resetting it, it was out of commission for the rest of the trip. They started our Irish trip early by fee
ding us shepherds pie for dinner. It was weird to be fed on the airplane -- I never go on flights where they do that anymore!

I really didn't sleep much... I took a 2 hour nap, but the melatonin and muscle relaxers I brought were in my bag in the overhead bins -- and it seemed too difficult/obstructive to get them out. so I just didn't go back to sleep after that.  But I was too excited to sleep anyway.. Instead, I spent most of the night flight waiting for the sun to come up.

As it did, I watched the bed of clouds beneath us...  They looked like a never-ending horizon of marshmallows.  And I thought about how this was a "Someday" trip.  The thing that you say, "Someday, I'm going to..."  And how my Someday had surprisingly become a Today.  And maybe how many things are there that I think of as Somedays that could actually be Todays with a little work and creativity.

Thursday-- Arrive and walk about Dublin

We arrived about noon in Dublin (which was 4am Seattle time), sped through Customs, and made our way into town to check into our hotel, the Ariel House. It's located in the Ballsbridge neighborhood -- in the shadow of the Aviva Soccer/Rugby stadium.  I loved both the area and the hotel itself...  It was originally 3 Georgian townhomes all side by side, built in the 1800s -- and the neighborhood was quiet, away from the city center -- but near the DART station and within a 20 minute walk to Merrion Square.

We enjoyed tea and scones in the downstairs drawing room before taking a stroll into the city.  Much of this day, we just sort of walked around and took everything in.  We wandered a bit up the canal, and through Merrion Square before stopping for lunch at a pub just south of Trinity College where I had my first fish n chips and first Irish Guinness of the trip.

We wandered over to the grounds of Dublin Castle, through the Chester Beatty museum... strolled up Grafton Street, and into Christ Church Cathedral.  After that, we meandered our way up to Old Jameson Distillery, which was just about to close, so we found our way over to the Black Sheep pub for a couple beers before we wandered back home for a somewhat early sleep.

Friday - Dublin Day

Today, we woke up and got dressed, and then made our way downstairs for breakfast. The dining room was set into this lovely sun room at the back of the house and felt so elegant. I'd heard good things about the breakfast at Ariel House and wasn't disappointed at all for our first experience of Irish breakfast (on crack). When you walk in, there is a table laden with all kinds of stuff... cereals, milk, natural yogurt, chopped fresh fruit, scones, cakes, fresh banana bread.  You name it. It's there.  On top of that, they had a menu at every table that you could also order off of...  We both started our first day with the "traditional Irish breakfast."  I hope they don't have this for breakfast every day... I feel like i'm eating Thanksgiving dinner every morning!

And yes, I did try the black pudding.  It's not awful...  but I do like the white one better. Also, Irish bacon is 50 times better than American bacon. Why doesn't our bacon look like that??

After breakfast, we wandered over to the soccer stadium and took a tour. Our tour guide was this dear older man who used to play rugby there, and I liked him lots. Okay, really, I just love old men. But now they're Irish. So... adorable old men with accents.

We took the train into town and visited Trinity College for general wandering, a gander at the Book of Kells (which was generally "eh", but the exhibits before you got there were quite interesting), and a trip through the Long Room. Oh, if only I had a library that looked like that!  After a turn through St Patricks Cathedral, we got on one of the Hop On/Hop Off buses out to Kilmainham Gaol.

I was glad that I had read that book on Irish history -- though I'm sure it's simplified a lot of things (and left me with my own questions yet unanswered), I feel like it's given me a good base so that I've been able to understand the historical significance of the things we'e seen.

The tour at Kilmainham was quite interesting... and I appreciated the emphasis they put on the role of women in Ireland's history.  Afterwards, we made our way over to Guinness Storehouse. I'd purchases tickets for their swanky "Connoisseur Experience"... and I was glad that I did.  Before the meeting time, we went through the self-guided tour and stopped off at the Gravity Bar for our included pint -- as they told us that the building's last call was about 10 minutes before our session would be over.  The Gravity Bar was cool... but it was SO crowded with tourists that it was difficult to enjoy it.

The Connoisseur Experience was the complete opposite.  You  are in a group of 16 people, max, and they take you back into a dark private bar for an in-depth Guinness tasting session.  It feels like a "gentlemen's experience".... very serious, very classy. Honestly, I loved it.  We tried samples of five different beers, learned a lot about the history of the Guinness company and their beers, and all got to pull our own pints -- which was fun, but made more difficult by the fact that I hadn't had lunch and HAD just drink two pint of beer.

Afterwards, we had a whole pint to drink yet, so made our way back up to the Gravity Bar. Nearly all the tourists had cleared out by that point, so we were able to find a seat at the windows and enjoy the gorgeous views until they kicked us out.

Then, I made Joel feed me.  We found a pub and I ordered a bowl of Lamb stew -- which is probably my favorite thing to eat here. Sorry, Lambs. You are cute, but you are tasty.

On the way home, we walked through Temple Bar... but it was Friday night in the summer.... and really too party-y and busy for my taste.  So I enjoyed the experience of walking through, but didn't feel like stopping anywhere.

BELIEVE IN THE TRUTH

Several years ago, I was in a friendship that was not doing well. I didn't really have much hope for its future, but was walking that line where you're trying to decide whether you should let go or hold on one more day.

During that time, I journalled a letter to myself in which I cruelly laid out every reason I had to walk away.  It wasn't a kind piece - to myself.

In the end, the relationship healed, but I always kept that piece that I wrote. I told myself that it was simply a part of our history, and was worth keeping simply for that.  But, I eventually realized that I kept it as a sort of insurance policy.  I kept it so if there ever came a time where it all blew up in my face, there was something there to say "I told you so." (I know that sounds warped.)

A while ago, I decided that I didn't need an insurance policy anymore. I decided that I could let that go, and move forward in trust. So, as a symbolic gesture, I dug the letter out of the box I kept it in, clamped it in a pair of kitchen tongs, and set it on fire.

When the flames blew out, I dropped the ashes in a bowl.  But, there was one scrap that had survived the flame.  I picked it up, opened it, and read the surviving words:

"Believe in the truth."

There was a poetic romanticism in that which I liked.

Since then, those words have returned to me often. I am a girl that thinks too much. I can circle a question for days, analyzing every moment, every word, every nuance - trying to figure out what things mean.  "Believe in the truth" is a reminder to relax, to let things be, to simply enjoy.

I am a girl who has doubts about herself -- about who I am, about what other people think of me, about what I should be.  "Believe in the truth" takes the wind out of those doubts' sails. It allows me to believe in both the truth and in me.

"Believe in the truth" has become a sort of relaxing mantra... words that I repeat to myself when I feel that I'm starting to cave in to questions and doubts, gossip and criticism. It has become a reminder to let the swirling world go on doing its swirling, but for me to step back from it, to remember what I know, and to move forward confidently in that knowledge.

Believe in the truth.

MY GRAND PLAN FOR 2016

2015 didn't end easily.

Really, most of 2015 wasn't easy. My world unraveled a bit when my husband was injured in May, and even after the crisis was over, I don't think I ever quite got myself back together. So I have ended the year, reeling from a return of my depression and just trying to keep my head above water and all the balls in the air.

So. Many. Balls.

So... 2016 sort of started without me, almost.

I haven't really taken time to reflect on last year.
I didn't pick a Word.
I haven't thought about all the areas of my life and analyzed the crap out of them, like I normally do.

I have no resolutions.

Instead, I have this message for myself.

"Be kinder."

That's all.

To myself...
To the people around me...
To the people I love...
To the people I can't stand...
To the people who make me want to stick a fork in my eye.
Or theirs.
And twice to myself.

For, I promise, no one expects more from me than I do, and I disappoint no one as much as I disappoint myself.

So, this year, all I ask of myself is this...

Be kinder.

In every meaning of that word...  just be kinder.

FORGIVING THE GIRLS I'VE BEEN

Sometimes I look back on the people I have been at earlier points in my life -- and I cringe.

Things I've said that I regret...
... that I did.
... that I thought.
Weaknesses I let have free rein.

It embarrasses me that they embodied the person that I was. As time has gone on and I've continued to grow and mature, as we all do, I have left many of those things behind. Or, at least I hope I have. My thoughts have become softer, my convictions gentler, my words kinder, my actions more controlled...

I wish that I was no longer trailed by the worst of the girls I've been. I wish that I could be forgiven. I yearn for my mistakes to no longer be held against me. I wish to be out of those girls' shadows.

But, in the end... while there are a few people who truly do hold those "me's of the past" against me and can't give me the freedom to change -- I know that the worst offender is myself.

I'm the one who punishes me for my past the worst.
I'm the one who can't forgive myself.
I'm the one who can't let it go.

THURSDAY TALES: THE NIGHT I SHOULD HAVE JUST GONE HOME

If you had said it to me then, I would have argued and denied it. Vehemently, even.

But, looking back from where I sit now -- for when is our vision clearer? -- you could have been right.

I wasn't supposed to be there that night. Not in that courtyard. Not down that alleyway. And yet, I had gone. I had crept down it silently, keeping to its shadows. No one could know for it was forbidden.

Not to everyone, but to me. And so I was the mouse, the vermin.

I couldn't say now why I had felt compelled to go. Why hadn't I just left well enough alone? Done what I was told? I should have gone home. But curiosity had me by the tail and wouldn't let go. I didn't want to be part of it necessarily - I just wanted to see it happen.

The alleyway opened into the light and I skirted its edge. I could have withstood the consequences of recognition, but it was easier without them. So I drew my cloak close and joined the edges of the crowd.

He was already at the gate, holding court-- he on his side of the gate, the crowd on ours. There were sighs. Women swooned.

It was a bit surreal to see him in life -- like a picture that had jumped off the page when you looked away and now suddenly wouldn't return from where it had come. I was too far away to hear the words he said, but the music of his voice reached me on the wind.

There was a spell in the timbre of it.

Soon, another from the Court emerged into the courtyard and the mob followed, like dogs after the scent. The corners of his mouth turned up with a glint of sardonic humor and he made his way back to the Castle doors.  The mob would come again as they did every night and, when they did, he would weave his spell once again.

I didn't follow after the mob. But I didn't leave either. I found myself alone, hands wrapped around the steel of the gate, wishing to speak but afraid to utter words. Someone called his name from afar and he turned to wave them away until the next moonlight. But, his eyes caught mine instead, and he stopped.

It was too late to run. Anonymity was no longer mine. I was still the mouse-- but the mouse that had ventured across the kitchen floor and was now in the sights of the housecat. He smiled as he returned to the gate, his guard following in his shadow.  I didn't know what to make of that smile. When he spoke, I could feel the music of his spell float around me and I shook my head to ward it off.

I understood how he held the mob in such thrall. It wasn't that he was handsome, though this was what was said. It was that he was so utterly charming. My mother had taught that a charming man was a dangerous man.  That a man who oozed charm always knew what to say to turn your head at the right moment from the things that you should be looking at. That a man who knew what to say could never quite be trusted to mean what he said. In everything that passed after, I would always wonder who I was speaking to -- the charmer or the one who lay underneath.

Maybe they were always the same.

He lied to me that night, and not for the last time. You will hold that against him. Maybe you should, though I will rush to excuse him. It wasn't a lie meant to harm, but to shade a truth that might have wounded. A lie is like that sometimes. It feels like kindness, but...

If he had fed me the same lie today, I would have called him on it and we would have laughed. But, I didn't see it or I chose to ignore it... or I just didn't know that I could do anything different.

I must admit with chagrin that his spell worked on me that night, despite my convictions to the contrary. I should have known. As we spoke, I forgot who we both wore. But the guard cleared his throat and looked pointedly at my hands still clutching the railing of the gate, too near to his charge.

I lowered my eyes and stepped back, chastised. I had forgotten that we were from very different castes, very different worlds. His spell, his laughter... they had made me forget and the spell he had woven nearly crashed around me with the remembering. He glanced behind him with annoyance and stepped up to the gate himself, leaning across it as he quickly re-wove the magic.

I felt a flush of gratitude toward him in that moment as I listened to his voice.  And while I would have denied it then, that was the moment I began to love him.

Perhaps the spell still holds sway. Perhaps it is better that way.