Skibbereen

Driving outside Skibbereen, my ears start ringing. I whisper, “I’m listening.” A heron takes flight right next to our car and flies next to us for a few minutes. We pass a road sign that says “Mass Grave of the Great Famine” and I feel the synchronicity solidify. We don’t see the sign in time, and because we are a little worn out on our way to Cork, I choose to say a little prayer for all the souls, their ancestors, and descendants, that we, in their honor, may find our way to more humane ways of being. I quickly jot down some notes so that I can remember this moment, among the many life-changing moments this trip brings.

skibbereen

For the last 20 or so years, I have dedicated the majority of my brain power to two lines of thought: genocide of Indigenous people, with a focus on North America, and how to create healing of the effects of genocide as it exists in my genetic lineage, both experienced and perpetrated.

Ireland has changed me, in profound ways. I have a lot to process. Aware and awake, it is most difficult to walk the lands of Eire and not feel the deep history. Not only the pain, though: the resilience, the valor, the laughter and the practicality that develops and evolves as people strive to thrive when survival is the first and foremost task at hand. I am familiar with these energies, as I can see them sparkle and shine in my genetic history. Familiarity does not ease the pain in my mind as it pertains to how easily humanity turns on itself and we murder ourselves, over and over and over again.

There are pieces we are missing to be able to evolve and resolve, heal and mend….pieces that are waiting to be picked up, by those that choose to hear and take on the work. Some of those pieces can be picked up simply by being in presence and communion with the land, the air, the water. These more-than-human relatives have a lot to teach us. Heron showing up was a beautiful reminder of this.

I will likely be offline/out of pocket for a while. The emotions, perceptions and energies that need to be processed require the energy of a deep well and the magic provided by the seclusion of a fairy fort. Or the courtyard of an abbey.

yew muckross abbey
Yew Tree in Muckross Abbey Courtyard

 

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Twylia (the 'i' is silent)

~ I am Anishinaabe-kwe with Scottish heritage and Sami DNA. I speak on the behalf of no one but myself. My ancestors inform and guide me. My voice is but one of many who are calling for change. We have much work to do to create a good space for the real human beings who are waiting to be born.

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