Jill Fuller's Posts - The Wild Geese2024-03-29T06:10:06ZJill Fullerhttps://thewildgeese.irish/profile/JillFullerhttps://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/68531582?profile=RESIZE_48X48&width=48&height=48&crop=1%3A1https://thewildgeese.irish/profiles/blog/feed?user=08vfsdmgr035o&xn_auth=noFlying Into Dublintag:thewildgeese.irish,2015-11-18:6442157:BlogPost:1756052015-11-18T15:30:00.000ZJill Fullerhttps://thewildgeese.irish/profile/JillFuller
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84714725?profile=original" target="_self"><img class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84714725?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="640"></img></a> <strong><span class="font-size-5">F</span>rom the air, in the dark 5:00 morning, Dublin</strong> is nothing more than a sheet of lights floating on water, glowing like a Christmas tree. I press my face to the glass, feeling the cold seep onto my forehead. The first time I saw Dublin, the sun was rising over the Irish Sea. The water was glossy and sugary pink, a confection for…</p>
<p><a target="_self" href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84714725?profile=original"><img width="640" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84714725?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="640"/></a><strong><span class="font-size-5">F</span>rom the air, in the dark 5:00 morning, Dublin</strong> is nothing more than a sheet of lights floating on water, glowing like a Christmas tree. I press my face to the glass, feeling the cold seep onto my forehead. The first time I saw Dublin, the sun was rising over the Irish Sea. The water was glossy and sugary pink, a confection for the eyes. Our plane dipped over a few small islands in the bay, as if it was bowing to the city before us.</p>
<p>This time, we're arriving earlier. We left the sun behind somewhere around Greenland, but it's catching up to us. What a world where I can race the sun and win.</p>
<p>I press my earbuds in and turn on The Pogues. <em>If I should fall from grace with God and no doctor can relieve me.</em> I play it again and again, watching the glittering patchwork quilt of Dublin come closer. I am mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of color and light, adrift on the black dark. For all of the detail visible, I could be anywhere in the world right now, but this time, I am right where I want to be. Hovering over an island of light.</p>
<p>I watch and wait, acutely aware that the minutes that bring me closer will also lead me to another seat in the air, sailing away from this place I love. My heart hurts already as I stare the future in the face. Shane MacGowan's raspy voice sings on. Dublin gets closer. I can't tell now -- are we descending or is the entire city drifting up to meet me?</p>
<p><em>Let me go, boys. Let me go, boys.</em></p>
<p>This post was first published on my Irish travel/culture blog, <a href="http://www.wildforireland.com" target="_blank">Wild for Ireland</a>.</p>The Mythology of Thin Placestag:thewildgeese.irish,2015-11-07:6442157:BlogPost:1745472015-11-07T15:30:00.000ZJill Fullerhttps://thewildgeese.irish/profile/JillFuller
<a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84714429?profile=original" target="_self"><img class="align-left" height="183" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84714429?profile=RESIZE_320x320" width="246"></img></a><p><strong><span class="font-size-5">I</span>n Irish mythology, a "thin place" was a divider</strong> between the physical, tangible world and the "otherworld" of dreams, the afterlife, and other unseen but very real dimensions hiding behind the veil of reality. Thin places could be actual places or they could be seasons of change. The night of Samhain (sow-in), the Celtic…</p>
<a target="_self" href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84714429?profile=original"><img width="226" class="align-left" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84714429?profile=RESIZE_320x320" height="183" width="246"/></a><p><strong><span class="font-size-5">I</span>n Irish mythology, a "thin place" was a divider</strong> between the physical, tangible world and the "otherworld" of dreams, the afterlife, and other unseen but very real dimensions hiding behind the veil of reality. Thin places could be actual places or they could be seasons of change. The night of Samhain (sow-in), the Celtic precursor to our Halloween, was believed to be a night where the boundaries between our world and the unseen world could touch, as the wall between them shakes and dissolves. (Do you watch Dr. Who? Thinking of this in terms of the <em>Whovian</em> parallel universes helps me visualize this as more than just a quaint, pagan concept.) Thin places were revered and afforded respect, but also feared because they were the places of the unknown.</p>
<p>Physical thin places on the Irish landscape include prehistoric monuments and markers. The peoples who built the cairns and dolmens we can still see today were most likely not the Celts, who arrived in Ireland later. They were an earlier people, living in Ireland as early as 5,000 years ago (and more! I'm going off memory here).</p>
<p>When the Celts arrived, they interpreted the dolmens and passage tombs as structures built by the gods and goddesses who inhabited the land -- the Tuatha de Danaan, or the Tribe of Danu. These gateways were portals to the Tuatha's domain and venturing too close could yield disastrous results for humans.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.wildforireland.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/dolmen2.jpg"><img class="alignnone wp-image-458 align-center" src="http://www.wildforireland.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/dolmen2-300x225.jpg" alt="dolmen2" height="193" width="258"/></a></p>
<p>These beliefs gave birth to the stories and the eventual evolution of the "fairy people" who could steal humans away to their lands below and beyond the horizon. In many stories in Irish folklore and ancient mythology, contact between humans and fairies occur near a physical thin place (a fairy fort or a fairy ring) or a spatial thin place (Samhain or a night of a full moon). In the legend of Knockfierna, for example, Carroll O'Daly foolishly follows a man up Knockfierna, where at the summit he discovers "an opening in the mountain" that was the entrance to the fairy castle within the mountain.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.wildforireland.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/cairns.jpg"><img class="alignnone wp-image-455 align-center" src="http://www.wildforireland.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/cairns-300x225.jpg" alt="cairns" height="182" width="243"/></a>My favorite thin place of Irish folklore and mythology is one where earth meets water. Water is my element, and so I always feel most strongly about being in that boundary between the two elements. Riverbanks, lakeshores, bogs, and ocean strands are all considered thin places in Irish myth.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.wildforireland.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/creek.jpg"><img class="alignnone wp-image-459 align-center" src="http://www.wildforireland.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/creek-300x225.jpg" alt="creek" height="192" width="257"/></a>Watery thin places feature in many Irish myths and legends, such as The Capture of Bridget Purcell, recorded by T. Crofton Croker in 1825. The story goes that while picking rushes in a bog, Bridget was attacked by the fairy folk and was taken, a changeling put in her place that died after five days. In an old myth about Finn MacCool, a fairy woman at a lake tricks him, asking him to fetch her ring from the lake bottom. Finn dives for it three times and after surfacing the third time, he feels "the chill of death." He surfaces to find that he has been turned into an old, decrepit man. The folklore also includes stories about creatures who dwelt within the thin places, on both water and land, such as the selkie, who is part seal and part human, able to transform and bewitch humans with their beauty.</p>
<p>Another watery thin place is the well.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.wildforireland.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/well.jpg"><img class="alignnone wp-image-457 align-center" src="http://www.wildforireland.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/well-300x169.jpg" alt="well" height="160" width="285"/></a>Holy wells are common throughout Ireland and have deep religious and spiritual connections. Most are associated with saints and are said to have miraculous healing properties. From a historical point of view, holy wells were actually pagan in origin, predating the Church, and later became connected to saints and Church practices after Christianity took hold in Ireland starting in the 5th century. Wells were first revered by the early Celts because they, too, were considered thin places; water bubbling up from the ground, creating a spot where land and water was one and the same. Just as they later became associated with specific saints, wells were first connected to Celtic deities. The sacred roots of these places run deep, and it's palpable when you visit one. Many holy wells are still the center of some Catholic rituals and pilgrimages.</p>
<p>Whenever I find myself in such a place (whether in Ireland or not), I tend to pay more attention to my surroundings and appreciate the present moment in ways I forget to do ordinarily. So the concept and recognition of thin places has become beneficial to me as a sort of spiritual practice, which seems fitting.</p>
<p>I'm fascinated by the thin places of Irish folklore and have often thought that, if I ever go back to school to study Irish history, I would love to focus more on the prevalence and nuances of thin places in Irish culture. I believe they reveal much about early Celtic religious practices, the centuries-long conversion to Catholicism, and how legends and stories morph over time for new audiences. I'm always eager to learn more, so tell me: Do you know of a thin place that you would recommend visiting?</p>
<p><strong><em>*This post first appeared on my travel/culture blog, <a href="http://www.wildforireland.com" target="_blank">Wild for Ireland.</a>*</em></strong></p>'Wild For Ireland': Sharing a Passion for a Placetag:thewildgeese.irish,2015-09-28:6442157:BlogPost:1710962015-09-28T01:30:00.000ZJill Fullerhttps://thewildgeese.irish/profile/JillFuller
<p><a href="http://www.wildforireland.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/welcome.jpg" target="_blank"><img class="align-left" src="http://www.wildforireland.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/welcome.jpg?width=300" style="padding: 10px;" width="300"></img></a> <strong><span class="font-size-5">I</span>t's not easy to follow your passion.</strong> It's a terrifying thing to take that step, to put yourself out there, to make yourself vulnerable. But it's liberating too.</p>
<p>For my whole life, my first love has been Ireland- her history, her culture. I've traveled there and filled my bookshelves with books that take me back to a place I…</p>
<p><a href="http://www.wildforireland.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/welcome.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.wildforireland.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/welcome.jpg?width=300" width="300" class="align-left" style="padding: 10px;"/></a><strong><span class="font-size-5">I</span>t's not easy to follow your passion.</strong> It's a terrifying thing to take that step, to put yourself out there, to make yourself vulnerable. But it's liberating too.</p>
<p>For my whole life, my first love has been Ireland- her history, her culture. I've traveled there and filled my bookshelves with books that take me back to a place I love. I've followed blogs and joined website communities like The Wild Geese. And I <span style="text-decoration: underline;">love</span> talking to others about Ireland too, sharing stories and discoveries with others who are just as passionate.</p>
<p>So I decided to take this passion, bottle it up, and put it out there in the form of a website. I officially launched it this week and I hope some of my Wild Geese friends will check it out. It's a travel blog, a culture blog, a history blog..... but mostly it's a website that allows me to discover and then <span style="text-decoration: underline;">share</span> the things I love most about Ireland.</p>
<p>I'm calling it "Wild for Ireland" because not only does that describe my passion for this place but it also ties back to why I love it. Because Ireland is a place of wild beauty, wild dreams, and wild opportunity. Because being wild is my favorite place to be.</p>
<p>I encourage you to check it out. Head to <a href="http://www.wildforireland.com" target="_blank">www.wildforireland.com</a> or Like it on the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/wildforireland" target="_blank">Facebook page</a>. Any feedback or ideas are very much welcome.<br/><br/></p>
<p>This community is fantastic. Thanks for all of your support and passion!</p>
<p>~ Jill</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84714180?profile=original" target="_self"><img src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84714180?profile=original" width="604" class="align-center"/></a></p>'Listening' - A Poem to W.B. Yeatstag:thewildgeese.irish,2014-08-24:6442157:BlogPost:1145562014-08-24T18:00:00.000ZJill Fullerhttps://thewildgeese.irish/profile/JillFuller
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84707233?profile=original" target="_self"><img class="align-right" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84707233?profile=RESIZE_480x480" width="350"></img></a> <span class="font-size-1"><em>I wrote this poem after months of studying Yeats' work and life for my undergrad thesis. One night, I found a BBC recording of him reading "The Lake Isle of Innisfree." I finally got to hear the voice I had been reading for so long and the moment took my breath away. This poem resulted from that experience.…</em></span></p>
<p></p>
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<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84707233?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="350" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84707233?profile=RESIZE_480x480" class="align-right" width="350"/></a><span class="font-size-1"><em>I wrote this poem after months of studying Yeats' work and life for my undergrad thesis. One night, I found a BBC recording of him reading "The Lake Isle of Innisfree." I finally got to hear the voice I had been reading for so long and the moment took my breath away. This poem resulted from that experience.</em></span></p>
<p></p>
<p><span class="font-size-3"><strong>Listening</strong></span></p>
<p>You broke the silence<br/> of eighty years<br/> in five winter moments,</p>
<p>caressing my cheek<br/> with each syllable<br/> that dripped from the air.</p>
<p>Death unraveled<br/> in seconds.<br/> The horseman couldn't pass you by<br/> without bringing you -<br/> veins still full of lore and liquid -<br/> into my February.</p>
<p>Pale flesh crept over your milky bones<br/> and there you were,<br/> proud,<br/> tall,<br/> young,<br/> your voice aching with passion,<br/> like a woman whispering<br/> her lover's name to her god.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Without a touch</p>
<p></p>
<p>you led me out of the nest<br/> I had built from strands of verses<br/> and piles of thoughts,<br/> ushering me down the path<br/> you fashioned a century ago.</p>
<p>In your voice<br/> I found echoes of Tir Na Nog,<br/> of an outsider,<br/> of a rebellion.</p>
<p>In our own way,<br/> we both belonged here.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Without touching,</p>
<p></p>
<p>eighty years fell away,<br/> and we met<br/> in a moment as fragile as a breath.</p>
<p></p>'One Great Irish Spot': Discovering the Sacred on Inishmurray Islandtag:thewildgeese.irish,2014-03-30:6442157:BlogPost:861212014-03-30T12:30:00.000ZJill Fullerhttps://thewildgeese.irish/profile/JillFuller
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84704962?profile=original" rel="noopener" target="_blank"><img class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84704962?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="750"></img></a></p>
<p><strong><span class="font-size-7" style="font-family: 'book antiqua', palatino;">Y</span>ou won’t find it listed</strong> <strong>in most Irish travel books</strong> and I have yet to see a travel website that mentions it. But in my book, Inishmurray Island is the greatest place in Ireland, perhaps on Earth. Because I always strive to be a traveler…</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84704962?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84704962?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="750" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p><strong><span class="font-size-7" style="font-family: 'book antiqua', palatino;">Y</span>ou won’t find it listed</strong> <strong>in most Irish travel books</strong> and I have yet to see a travel website that mentions it. But in my book, Inishmurray Island is the greatest place in Ireland, perhaps on Earth. Because I always strive to be a traveler rather than a tourist on my rambles, most of my travel plans through Ireland were gleaned from the Irish history books on my shelves and stories from friends. Since I am particularly drawn to monastic sites, the small island of Inishmurray made my list. So on a chilly Sunday morning during our two-week Irish stay, my husband and I drove down to the bay and met the boat that was to take us out into Donegal Bay, joining four others to walk the island of St. Molaise’s monks. As the waves rocked and the spray hit my face, I felt only a rush of anticipation, as if my soul already knew it was going somewhere it would remember forever.</p>
<p>The story of Inishmurray, like all good Irish stories, is a beautiful one, tinged with the sacred and with lament. It is a story of men of great faith, of a hard-working and tight-knit community, of painful farewells, and of the sea. The island still holds the ancient monastery- its church open to the heavens and the weather, a beehive hut still snug and dry. It also contains more weathered remains- the cottages and cemetery of the community who lived and worked, danced and cried, were born and died there until the last survivors left in 1948.</p>
<p>Within minutes of climbing the rocks and walking the fields of the island, I felt in my bones that this was a land that still breathed its memories, protected its sacredness, and stood apart from time. In that way, it seemed to me the perfect embodiment of Ireland itself, a land of myth and memory, change and stillness.</p>
<p>Even now, years later and thousands of miles away, I often close my eyes and picture myself there, especially when I am hurried or overwhelmed. My husband felt the pull of the island as well, and even now we speak of it as if it is our own special secret. It comforts me to think of that secluded, secret place surrounded by Atlantic waters; to know that even though I am not there to see it, the sea still crashes against the rocks, the seagulls still circle overhead, and the sea pinks still bloom in the spring. It gives me peace and hope to imagine that, whether in 5 years or in 50, when we return to Inishmurray, I will still find the piece of myself I left behind there and recognize the woman I was in a place my soul felt at home.</p>
<p>~ Jill Fuller, <a href="http://pilgrimsoul22.blogspot.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">www.pilgrimsoul22.blogspot.com</a></p>
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