The oratory of St. Colman echoes with hundreds upon hundreds of years worth of worshipful memory.
In a secluded glade of ancient trees nestled against the breast of the Burren, a landscape so surreal and old it seems the surface of a planet in a galaxy far, far away, the ruins of yet another holy structure keep…Continue
To fully experience the Celtic spirit, one must embrace not only the essence of a pilgrim, but also the land the pilgrim walks upon.
Places such as Galway's Brigit's Garden are sacred keepers of beloved earthly traditions. A calendar year in the form of gardens lovingly corralled by their keepers, the Garden…Continue
All Souls Night. A time of bonfires bursting to life beneath a cloudy sky. The grass wet from late Autumn mists that tumble haphazardly down the mountainsides as if driven by reckless celestial abandon. The soft moan of wind as it rushes through the caverns and craggy hills, meeting the water trickling into emerald…Continue
There is poetry written into this land. Much like there is poetry written into the Irish soul. Poetry is not, as many think, a pretty art of whimsy and folly. Poetry, more oft than not, is the rawest and freest means of expression a person can have. I have always written poetry, but I began writing it…Continue
The ritual of cleansing oneself with water to begin anew is an old one.
From the seemingly simple act of taking a shower to the tradition of baptising a baby, water is seen as a nurturing source of life and a cyclical element. Its passage through the world, be it fresh or saltwater, is a constant variable…Continue
Added by Nicole Samantha Fishkind on October 26, 2016 at 5:30pm — No Comments
There is something deeply engrained in our makeup as a species to seek out our roots. To water them with knowledge and expressively branch out into the universe with greater understanding. To discover what makes us grow. We are constantly reaching for the stars, the skies, the freedom to be and encompass all we…Continue
On a July day nearly 130 years ago, an unknown and homesick young Irish writer trudged along a busy London street. He stopped suddenly and stood still, for he thought he could hear the tinkling of water in the midst of the bustling thoroughfare. He followed the sound and found he was looking in a shop window. There…Continue
When I entered the University of Notre Dame in 1965, the first thing I had to do was make some close friends. Notre Dame has no social fraternities and in 1965 no women. So one had to fish around your residence halls and classes to find some friends with mutual interests.