Well it was bound to happen sooner or later.
Finally, an indepth analysis of my feelings for my time spent here in Ireland thus far.
It is funny; I spend so much time and energy working my way to Ireland, yet when I am here so often I find myself talking about America. Irish students want to know what it was like, US students want something they can relate to, and it is not possible to talk to a Notre Dame student without jumping into a joke about one's Midwestern accent (not that one exists...)
In any case, for these first two and a half months, Ireland hasn't really "sunk in". I have seen so many things and felt a part of the communities I am involved in. Between trips across the island to learning about the mystic culture in the classroom to walking down Merrion Square to even being a part of normal Irish students' activities, I have experienced more than my fair share of tourist propaganda. Yet always such actions were pecks at a bigger whole, they were scratches on a surface that seemed impenetrable.
Until, for some odd reason, right now.
Mind you it is past midnight on the second week of November. The recent election and compoundingly difficult financial situation of the US has pushed my home country into the spotlight of my recent memory. Yet all I can think about is how incredibly breathtaking this island really is. There is something else here when one has stayed longer than a week; to someone who hasn't witnessed it, such awe is impossible to describe.
I guess the important thing I am writing on is that I am making such a strong connection here that I don't really want to leave. Of course I will and I am sure my first Wendy's double cheeseburger will taste fantastic, but a part of me wants to keep Ireland forever. Ghosts occupy this land. The wind speaks and the grass listens; water whispers and rocks pay heed. It is a moment of complete and total harmony, except that moment is every moment of my time here. Of what little I know of love, with all my heart I love this land.
It pains me that such a realization took me so long and that my time here is dwindling quickly. Maybe it is a metaphor for the larger context of life, that so often we understand but at the cost of time. I feel that no matter how hard I try, I will be leaving here in December with something more to be desired, something left to be done.
As dismal as it sounds, such a thought is actually rather comforting. I feel like I will understand Irish people in America on a much different plane. I feel that the mystical urge so many Irish Americans have to visit the isle will be framed all the better in my mind. Most importantly, I feel I will see my heritage as an American in a brand new light, one of appreciation and trust in a system just as mystical and just as stunning as Ireland's.
I have bridged the Atlantic and now keep one foot in America and one foot in Ireland. Soon I will hop back, but I know I can take my time here with me. I may not have Irish roots in my blood, but I can call Ireland a home now, and no matter where I go or who I choose to be, in my veins Ireland's blood now runs.
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