Liz's Ireland Journal

The Randy Mares of Fancy

In Ireland, which is between the 52^nd and 55^th parallel north, they do midsummer right. It never really gets completely dark on June 21^st and as the sun moves slowly toward and then below the horizon it veers further and further north.

Last Saturday night, the summer solstice, I was watching the sun makes this slow perambulation around the horizon from the window of my apartment in Athlone. Right at midnight the air was rent by a Nazgul scream.

As you may recall from The Lord of the Rings, The Nazgul were evil wraiths, nine former kings now in service to the Dark Lord, Sauron, who searched for Frodo and the Ring of Power on their fell winged mounts or on coal black stallions. In the moments leading up to a pivotal confrontation between Gandalf and Saruman, the elder wizard smugly tells Gandalf, “The Nine have left Minas Morgul. They crossed the River Isen on Midsummers Eve.” Gandalf gasps, “They’ve reached the Shire!”

So when I heard that Nazgul scream from my window on Midsummers night, for a moment I thought, “They’ve arrived!” And then I heard the sound of horses’ hooves pounding the ground.  I looked out and about a dozen of the horses boarded behind our apartments were racing around the field, tails raised, snorting, and one of them screaming like a Nazgul in the deep twilight. 

That sight brought this line to my mind: “The randy mares of fancy.”  Here’s the whole stanza:

My wishes turn to violent
Horses black as coal–
The randy mares of fancy,
The stallions of the soul–
Eager to take the fences
That fence about my soul.

It’s from “London Rain,”  by Louis MacNeice, an Irish poet who spent most of his life in Britain.  I first heard it on Jah Wobble’s Invaders of the Heart, read by Ronnie Drew, backed up by bagpipes. 

In the poem, the narrator wonders about logic, lust, and the function of god, and the imagery of horses is used throughout.  When logic convinces the speaker that he has nothing to lose:

My lust goes riding horseback
To ravish where I choose,
To burgle all the turrets
Of beauty as I choose.

I find my favorite stanza cropping up in my consciousness more and more often:

Whether the living river
Began in bog or lake,
The world is what was given,
The world is what we make
And we only can discover
Life in the life we make.

I believe that Gandalf would embrace that philosophy.  It seems like the perfect sentiment to begin the second half of 2014.

 

First Stories of 2014

I have an excellent group of students this summer in Study Abroad Ireland.  I was very pleased with the quality of their telling as well as the variety and richness of the stories they chose to tell.  This was the first time for most of them to tell a story in front of others, so many of their responses reflect that.

Kyndra LeDeaux told “The Corpse Watchers.”

“It was a very enjoyable read for me and I particularly like the uniqueness of this faerie tale. I’ve been a fan of all things morbid since a young child, so the idea of a girl chasing the corpse of her groom-to-be across Ireland is a refreshing flight from the usual Disney formula.”

Hallie McClure told “Captain Box.”

“I can definitely agree that storytelling builds confidence and self-esteem because after telling my first story in class I feel much more confident and comfortable about the entire speaking in public situation. This story impacted me in the way of better understanding the way Irish myths and stories are constructed. It also was important to me because of the many lessons that are a part of the story. I actually feel like my story telling experience went much better than I expected and I was pleased with my performance. I received some great feedback on things I well which made me feel more confident about my story. I was very nervous at the beginning but I felt much better as soon as the story got started and I felt comfortable with class.  I learned that it is not as scary as I made it out to be in my mind. I realized that by the end I enjoyed being in front of everyone and telling a story.” 

Christen Webb told “The Lough Funcheon, the Vanishing Lake, and the Fairies,” which came from the book Roscommon Folktales by Pat Watson.

“When it came to telling this story in front of the whole class and you, I was pretty darn nervous, just like everyone else. I was uncertain about telling it at first because of its length and also because it talked about how a couple of giants literally pulled off the Goddess Danu’s breasts and these breasts became mountains. I wasn’t sure how people would react to something like that. Going up to the front didn’t make it any easier, but I’m happy that I had the chance to do it and I felt so relieved after it was over. By telling this story, I learned that it’s okay to have an off the wall story that’s sort of short. People will still appreciate it. I also learned that it gets easier to tell a story as you go along with it.

Audra Davis told “The Bewitched Kerry Cow.”

“I had a lovely experience going up and telling the story. I was so nervous right before I went up, but as I started telling the story, all my fear washed away. I just saw a bunch of smiling, supportive faces and who could be scared of that? I feel as though my story went just fine, and the clapping and appreciation of my story just boosted my confidence.”

Juliana Martinez told a story about a meeting between Finn McCool and St. Patrick.

“The elders tell a child that they will never tell tales again of ancient Ireland because the people of the stories never existed.  Just as the elder is explaining this to the child, none other than Finn McCool comes riding up along with his army, the Fianna.  No sooner does he arrive then from the other side comes St. Patrick and his monks.  St. Patrick invites Finn and his army to sit under the trees with him and his monks to share in the telling of stories of both ancient Ireland and Christian Ireland.” 

Amanda Murphy told “The King with Horse’s Ears.”

“I really enjoyed it. Next time I want to really take my time to describe what happens in the story. But, I am just proud I went up there.  It’s a huge accomplishment for me.”

Ashelynn Medina told “The Prince and the Butterfly”, a retelling of the myth of Midir and Etain.

“When it came to actually telling the story and walking up in front of the class, I became very nervous and started fidgeting. But once I was getting the hang of it I came out of my shell and just became part of the story.  I really felt good about how well I remembered the actual story and all of the dialogue.  I felt happy with my performance and the story.” 

Ben Johnson told the story of “Finn and Saeva.”

“I feel a valuable lesson was to make sure you don’t memorize the whole thing, but to allow your own personality into it.  There is some difficulty in this since I am in theatre.  It makes sense to use your own personality because it’s as if you’re literally breathing new life in the story.  I feel that’s how we keep them alive - with new breath.”

Diana Farmer told “Bewitched Butter.”

“First of all I want to report that never in my dream of dreams did I have a vision of myself in Ireland, taking a storytelling class, and then presenting my first story to a delightful group of young students. I am convinced that storytelling used in a positive environment is a powerful tool for building community.” 

Hannah Junion told “The Horned Women.”

“Waiting to tell it is the worst, but once I make it past the first sentence I am okay from there on.  Sometimes a story will choose you and make an impression without you even realizing.”

Isabela Silva told “The Fallen Angels” from Meeting the Other Crowd by Eddie Lenihan.

“I really enjoyed this story and the idea that even though they’ve been cast down, the fallen angels still have hope of getting back to heaven.  They’re still looking for redemption, just like everyone else in the Catholic/Christian faith.  Made me think of Mark Twain’s quote about how nobody prayed for the sinner who needed it the most.” 

Mackenzie Miller told “Rathlin’s Sad Princess” from Antrim Folktales by Billy Teare and Kathleen O’Sullivan. 

“Being a communication major I have taken many classes and done many speeches in front of people and large groups, so I try and challenge myself to keep speaking in front of people to better my skills.  Taking this class has taught me to believe in myself and my speaking abilities.”

Savana Miller told “The Escape of Red Hugh” from Tales of the Wicklow Hills by Richard Marsh.

“At first I was really nervous to tell my story, but I’m glad I went first because I’m one of those people who will stress out to the point of getting sick if I don’t just get it over with.  Apparently I’m pretty good at faking it until I make it though, because everyone said I did pretty well." 

Sophya Nesterova told “Etain and Midir” from Ten Best Irish Legends Ever by Margaret Simpson.

“I chose this story because I enjoy reading about true love.  It was beautiful how Midir searched for Etain and then won over her heart once more.  I learned that with practice there is really nothing to fear.  The story after a while becomes part of you and it just flows out.  The main thing to remember is that I was there to entertain, not to dictate out a rigid set of information.  It was fun.”

Liz Bohr told “Godfather Death.”

“After the storytelling was all done, I was still feeling uneasy about my performance.  Casey had approached me and really went into detail about how much she enjoyed my story and some other lovely comments.  I sat down and thought about how nice that was and something that she probably doesn’t know was beyond amazing for her to do.  Not only does that make someone feel welcomed to present again, but it gives someone a simple kind of high.  All around it’s a great experience for everyone.”              

Cassidy Reif told “The Boy Who Had No Story,” from a collection by Kevin Danaher.

“I felt more at ease as I started to recite the story.  It was a cool experience to actually get up there and tell it and not feel so worried about if I was doing it right or not.  What I learned about telling this story is that it’s not that hard to publically speak.  The story itself, I learned that if you do not have a story someone will make sure you get one, even if it’s dangerous.”

Sean Castle told “The Cow Who Ate the Piper.”

“I chose this story because it reminded me of me and my friends when we got lost in the woods and were cold trying to find a warm place to get warm, and we got a fire going and stood around the fire telling stories, singing, dancing, just trying to keep each other merry. In the morning we left to get back home and we did. I think the importance of this story was to show that people are nice and are willing to take each other in and to keep good company.” 

Natasha Vucetich told the “The Land of Eternal Youth.”

I had some difficulties actually finding a story that I liked enough to tell to the class. I wanted to choose a story that I found interesting. I’ve always loved Greek mythology so when I heard of the story Land of the Eternal Youth, it reminded me of the Fountain of Youth. Immediately I was drawn to the story and knew that this was the one I had to tell. Most people would do anything to stay young forever, and Usheen did as well. He left his family and friends behind while he went off with Niam but what he didn’t realize is that he would never see them again. It got me thinking what I would do for the person I love. I would want to stay with my love forever but if that meant never seeing my mom or brother or any of my family again I don’t think I could do that.”

Casey Chisholm told the story of Brigid O’Malley, a female version of “The Boy Who Had No Story,” written by Jennifer Armstrong.

“I’m excited about this story because I want to take it home a little better prepared and tell it to some of my nieces and friends, too.”

Brittany Blau closed our first session of storytelling with “The Selfish Giant” by Oscar Wilde.  She did a beautiful job with it and everyone noticed how perfect it was for a final story.

“When I heard that some people felt it was their favorite or that it was the perfect way to end class, I almost wanted to tear up.  I was definitely not expecting the reaction I got.  When preparing my next story I am going to practice it in front of more people in order to be more familiar with it and therefore less afraid.  Hopefully when this trip is all said and done I will have no problem with public speaking!”

 The pictures with this post were taken when Jack Sheehan and Aideen McBride came to class to tell for us. More on that later.  The picture at the top shows Mackenzie, Ashelynn, Liz, Natasha, Ben, Brittney, Aideen, Jack, Hannah, Sean, Casey, and Christen.  The second picture shows Juliana, Savana, Cassidy, DiAnna, Hallie, Audra, Aideen, Jack, Isabela, Sophya, Kyndra, and Amanda.             

Cliffs of Nowhere - I mean Moher!

We had our annual weekend in Galway June 12-15. On Friday the 13^th things got a little spooky.  It was a grey, off-and-on rainy day, but not too cold.  We drove south-east from Galway to Ballyvaughan (Barry’s town), and then up into the Burren on the R480 to visit Poulnabrone Dolmen – a beautiful drive that contrasts cozy villages with steep, sweeping rocky hills.

Our leader, Barry Vaughan, as usual, gave us an excellent lecture at the dolmen and we studied the clints (flat parts) and grykes (grooves that define the flat parts) of the burren geology. Poulnabrone, in Irish, the “hole of sorrows”, is also known as one of the beds of Diarmuid and Grainne as they travelled Ireland fleeing the wrath of Finn McCool.

We then drove to Kilfenora to visit the high cross in the ruined church next to the Burren Center.  The cross is fab, but even better was the crafts shop where I found the most seriously adorbs little ceramic cottages –but I digress.

Leaving Kilfenora is when things started to get weird.  We had about a 15 mile trip to get to the Cliffs of Moher, heading southwest towards the ocean.  Almost immediately we were enclosed in a dense mist. Looking out the window near the front of the bus, right behind our driver Tom Kirwan, I could barely see 20 feet. I didn’t have a moments worry about our safety, as Tom is an excellent and highly experienced driver.  It was nonetheless very odd to be able to see virtually nothing from the window.  Other cars wouldn’t so much emerge from the mist as appear indistinctly momentarily and then vanish. 

At the bus entrance to the Cliffs, confused car drivers were entering and then trying to back out, or turning around and driving toward us as Tom tried to drive in. Once parked, we could barely see the buses next to us, and people were manifesting and disappearing all around us.

It was literally marvelous. Before this Friday the 13^th, I had never experienced a mist of such all-encompassing denseness. I felt like I was having an experience of the Other World, or at least of the misty confluence of our world and that other place.

So many Irish myths, legends, and folktales involve a mist from which appears someone important – or dangerous. One of my favorites is when the great bard Seanchan calls the warrior Fergus back from the land of the ever fair.  The story of The Tain has been lost, and only Fergus can tell it whole.  Here’s what I imagine Seanchan intoning at the dolmen that marks Fergus’ grave to summon him:

“Nobel Fergus, I call thee.

I call thee back from memory.

Your voice can set the story free.

Tell, tell again bold Maeve’s glory,

And of Cuchullain’s victory.”

Of course, Fergus appears, and according to legend it is his version of the story that we tell to this day.  And now, when I tell that story, or any of a number of otherworldly Celtic tales, I will know exactly how that mist looks and feels. Even better, any time a mist was mentioned in the stories told by the students the following week, the Mighty Moher Mist was the image that came to mind for all of us.

On that day, however, our students were not thinking of the other world. They were very disappointed, since the Cliffs of Moher are one of the highlights of the trip.  We crammed ourselves into the cafeteria, and then the gift shops, with the hundreds of other people who had come to see, but could not see, the sights.  Tourists from around the world were snapping selfies and shots of each other in front of the 10'x10' color photo of the cliffs at the opening to the gift shop - a poor replacement for the real thing but evidently better than nothing.

Barry was tracking the weather on his phone and was very hopeful that we would be able to wait it out, but alas, no.  Of course, 45 minutes later when we were back in Ballyvaughan to visit Dun Guaire Castle the sun was shining and we were too warm.

Galway born and bred Tom Kirwan, whose family is of one of the original 14 tribes of that city, told us that he had never seen anything like that mist in the many, many, dozens of times he had driven there.

Fortunately, the sun was shining the next day for our trip to Inis Mór, one  of the Aran Islands.  We all hiked up to Dun Aengus, the Iron-Age fort that is perched on cliffs that are not quite as high as the Cliffs of Moher, but of the same basic geology and drama.   Truly, one of the most spectacular sights to see in this world.

Yep, that's the Mighty Moher Mist at the top of the post, followed by Poulnabrone Dolmen, and a clints and grykes crossroad.  Finally, above is the view looking south from the top of Dun Aengus on Inis Mór.

Shannon Storytellers at Flannery’s

Several of my students and I went to the monthly meeting of the Shannon Storytellers Thursday night at Flannery’s on Sean Costello Street in Athlone.  I’d heard about the group from Jackie Gorman before we left Arizona and was able to join on Facebook.  The organizer is local author Karen Goode, and people come to share both written and oral pieces. Here’s what Karen wrote about the group on Facebook:

Do you have a short story to tell? Something you've written and would like to share with like-minded people in a relaxed atmosphere? This is the place for you. All welcome!!!!!!

Flannery’s, with its distinctly relaxed atmosphere, is my favorite pub in Athlone.  When we were talking about going, Danielle Allison said, “That’s your local.  You’ll have spent more time there than some of the Irish attendees.”  When I walked in last night, owner Ann Flannery said, “Ah, you’re back.  Welcome home!”

Flannery’s is the perfect place for an event like this.  It’s a tiny place, and there are no televisions.  Ann is an enthusiastic proponent of the arts, and when people started speaking, not only did she quiet all the patrons, she and her dog sat down to listen.

Karen had passed around a sign-up sheet and three of my students and I signed up along with a few others.  After Karen read her first piece, she called on Hannah Junion from our class.  Hannah got up and told a rousing version of a well-known Irish folktale, “The Horned Women”. Karen then asked Casey Chisholm, also from our group.  Casey told the story of Brigid O’Malley, which is Jennifer Armstrong’s version of “The Man Who Had No Story.”  Casey did a tremendous job with the story, even singing a little lullaby for which she composed the tune for herself. (The first picture shows Hannah Junion. The second is Casey Chisholm.)

Before the break we also heard a story from Maria Gillen.  She told a very compelling and true ghost story from Mayo called “McEvilly’s Pub” that she had found published in a local paper from the beginning of the last century.  I thought she looked familiar, and at the break I learned that I’d met her years before when she came to one of the concerts that Danielle Allison and I had organized as part of the Three Rivers Storytelling Festival. She was collecting stories for a degree she was pursuing in Galway and has never stopped!

After a short break, Karen read a short piece and then called on Juliana Martinez, another of my students.  Juliana told a story about the consequences suffered by a thatcher who needlessly kills an eel.  Now, granted, the eel did have its own tail in its mouth and was rolling down the road like a wheel.  Who could blame the thatcher for thinking it was magical and might contain treasure? (The picture at the top shows everyone listening as Juliana tells.)

Jackie Gorman read “Our Cat Goes to Heaven” by Margaret Atwood, a great humorous and touching piece.  One of the best lines – that turned the heads and raised the eyebrows of the men at the bar – is when the cat discovers that God is also a cat.  The cat says, “I’m glad you aren’t a dog, said our cat.  Do you think I could have my testicles back?” Of course, said God. They’re over behind that bush.  Our cat was very pleased. Thank you, he said to God."

When it was my turn I wanted to give a feeling of Arizona, so I told “The Horny Toad’s Grandparents.” Karen then wrapped up the evening with a piece that she wrote as the result of playing around on a chat site. She read the female parts, and Karl Glass read the male parts.  Very humorous and enjoyed by all – especially the accompanying screen shots that Karen and Karl held up. While the men sent hunky shots, Karen sent various pictures of Susan Boyle to represent herself.

We all sat around and visited for another hour or so while the musicians set up for the open-mike night.  In addition to the ten students from my class who attended, Jackie Gorman and Danielle Allison were there. Danielle is a local storyteller and teacher who was my first friend in Athlone, courtesy of an introduction by Liz Weir.  I’ve also known Jackie almost from the beginning through our association with the Atlantic Corridor, a development group in Tullamore that she now heads. Jackie’s good friend and Danielle’s neighbor Brenda Burke was also there.  Liz Weir and I had run into her in Ballynahown earlier in the week when we stopped in for tea and little craft shopping. (The picture shows Danielle, Jackie, and Brenda.)

And, Fionnuala O’Connell was also there.  She used to work at the Athlone Community Radio station and I met her there when she interviewed me for the Three Rivers Storytelling Festival.  She is now pursuing a degree in elementary education and we had a good talk about the utility of storytelling in education in general and literacy in particular.

It was the kind of night I love best: friends, stories, history, warmth, overlapping connections, atmospheric spot.  Welcome home, indeed!

The picture above is me and Jackie Gorman, followed by me in mid-flow as Julianna Martinez listens.