Ireland – Music. Life. Joy.

August 4, 2022

What’s really real?

Last week Nayaswami Devi wrote a beautiful blog post titled “What Changes.”

The blog is full of insights and wisdom, but there was one particular sentence that stood out for me. Devi wrote: Time and space—they really don’t exist as we usually perceive them. We may be dreaming them, but our souls aren’t bound by them.

In fact, that sentence brought to mind an experience I had when I was living at Ananda Assisi. I’m not sure whether I can successfully put it into words, but I’ll try.

Before I found Ananda in 1998 I had been involved with an Irishman from Galway. I developed deep connections with the Irish-Irish (as opposed to Irish-American) community in San Francisco and felt a deep affinity for Irish music and culture. I even visited Ireland briefly in 1997.

Then, several years after coming to Ananda, I moved to Italy — another European country for which I immediately felt a deep affinity.

At one point I met two Irish women — I believe they were sisters — who were guests at the retreat in Assisi. We enjoyed a nice connection; no big deal.

But then there was one afternoon when they were approaching and as I went to greet them I suddenly was aware of feeling a strange kind of disorientation.

I caught myself thinking — although “thinking” isn’t really the right word; it was more that there was an awareness — that we were in Ireland and the two women were returning from visiting Galway. But with a figurative shake of the head, I reminded myself that, no, we were in Italy and they had been to Gualdo Tadino (a nearby city).

It was so strange! As though for just a few moments I had lost track of where I was in the dream.

Although it was a fleeting experience, it left me with the briefest sensation of the truth that none of this is really real.

February 13, 2022

Scented memories

On my walk this evening I was suddenly halted in my tracks by the smell of a sweet scent. I couldn’t identify where it was coming from, but it was unmistakable.

And I was just as suddenly transported to other moments, other locations, but the same experience…

There was the time I was waiting at the front entrance of the old SF Conservatory of Music building (at 19th Ave and Ortega) on a warm evening in late spring/early summer. There were a number of plants in bloom, all combining to make a subtle but overwhelmingly beautiful scent.

Then there was the smell of freesias blooming in front yards as my first husband, Randy, and I strolled the streets of Pacific Grove.

And the first time I truly understood the phrase “sweet grasses” was on pilgrimage at Newgrange, in County Meath, Ireland. It was summer and we had been blessed with beautiful weather during our time in Ireland. It was my first time visiting England, Wales, and Ireland, and I had never experienced meadow grasses like that. The smell was intoxicating.

And, finally, when I lived in San Francisco, there was a certain kind of boxwood hedge that bloomed in early spring, but with really insignificant flowers. I would be walking along and — just like today — be suddenly halted in my tracks as I tried to locate where the amazing scent was coming from.

If I close my eyes I can almost recapture it, even after all these years.

January 3, 2021

Remembering Great Britain

This evening I happened upon a Rick Steves video about the west of England, which brought back vivid memories of my one trip to the British Isles in the late 90’s.

I had a lot of Irish-Irish (as opposed to Irish-American) connections at the time and already had a deep love for the “auld country.” And as a longtime fan of both Georgette Heyer and PG Wodehouse I felt a strong affinity for England as well. Wales, however, was a revelation; I felt absolutely and completely at home there (we didn’t make it to Scotland, unfortunately).

Anyways, watching the Rick Steves video reminded me especially of being at Stonehenge (where our group had a special appointment which allowed us to actually spend time amongst the stones afterhours; we even held a brief ceremony there); Glastonbury (where we visited the Chalice Well and hiked up to the Tor); and Tintern Abbey (on the bank of the Welsh side of the River Wye).

Tintern Abbey in particular had such a powerful effect on me that I felt quite disoriented the whole time we were there. It was one of the most intensely beautiful places I had ever been, but more than that was the extremely odd sense of not feeling entirely certain of when I was (a strange way of putting it, but that’s how it felt).

I do hope I get a chance to visit the UK again some day.