Miscellaneous Dublin Fun

Here are some other highlights of my few days in Dublin's fair city.   I missed some of the obvious stuff -- e.g., Trinity College, tour of Dublin Castle, the Guiness Brewery -- because we saw those on our first trip to Ireland, honeymoon 1982.

No photos allowed, I'm afraid, for the Chester Beatty Library near Dublin Castle with its wonderful light and extensive collection of manuscripts, ancient books, and decorative items.  I visited during an exhibition of sacred writings from the Islamic and Judeo-Christian traditions.  I am a fool for such things, and I was staggered at the collection, believing it to rival even the British Library in London.  So amazing that these inks made of ground stones and flowers are there for us to see after millennia.  The talent, devotion, and sometimes wit and originality of the anonymous makers often leap out in surprising ways.  My unfamiliarity with any Eastern language meant that I missed that in the Islamic section, but a close look at the manuscripts made me suspect they were there.  The borders were particularly ornate.  The passionate display of faith inspired me to take a look at some related writings in the bookstore.  I am very happy to have discovered Rumi's poetry as a result of this visit.  
 

Nearly everyone is likely to enjoy a visit to Dublinia, a multi-dimensional salute to Dublin's Viking origins.  The museum features dioramas and interactive displays aimed at visitors of varied national origin and English comprehension.  

I also made a brief visit to Christ Church Cathedral which adjoined Dublinia.  At the time of my visit, a spectacular men's chorus was rehearsing near the center of the church.  Visitors were treated to renditions of Inspirational Lite ("When you WALK through the STORM/ hold your HEAD... up... high..."), but their blend and resonance were truly superb. 

 

 

An Earth Box in a cathedral!  

My Dublin Mission: What is Remembered, Lives.

The high point of my stay in Dublin was my walk out to Glasnevin Cemetery, a couple of miles north of the City Centre.  From its inception in 1832, Glasnevin has been nondenominational, and it is the final resting place of saints and sinners, real and perceived; prominent governmental and revolutionary figures; playwrights and poets; and plenty of ordinary folk.
  

The towers were used to keep watch at night.  During the 18th and 19th centuries, graveyards were often preyed upon body snatchers, those who dug up corpses to sell to medical schools and research facilities.  There are no known cases of bodies being taken from Glasnevin, so evidently, the sentries watching from on high were a successful deterrent.

 

Angel's Memory Garden is the section of the cemetery reserved for stillborn babies and newborns who died before baptism.  Glasnevin was notable for providing for this, and the section attracted little attention until around 2000.  Memorials for these innocents were unusual in Ireland, and it is only in recent years that the medieval tenet that they were unfit for heaven has been reconsidered and rejected.   I recommend searching out the documentary film Limbo Babies for a more thorough discussion of this subject and its devastating ramifications for Irish families.

My personal mission in Glasnevin was to visit the graves of the Magdalene women and more particularly, to remember them.  Like all good Pagans, I do believe that what is remembered, lives.  I have long been touched and horrified by the story of these penitential institutions.  It is likely that the connection came out of my 95 percent certainty that my mother was born in a similar institution.  I did not learn that she was adopted until my mid-30s, and the information did not come from her.  I am all too aware of the trauma and dysfunction that can result from the shame and secrecy of a so-called illegitimate birth.

When I went to the Magdalene graves, I looked for names.  When the gravestones were nameless "Of your charity, pray for the repose of the souls of the residents of," etc., I stood and told them that while I didn't know their names, I remembered them anyway.  I asked my matron goddess, Brighid, to keep them safe and warm in the Summerlands for all eternity.

With the graves where some names were listed, I followed essentially the same procedure except that I called out each of the names.  "Brigid Kett, Julia Creevey, Margaret Burke, I remember you.  May you walk free and happy in the Summerlands.  May your children walk free and happy in the world."

I left the grave sites feeling very glad that I had stopped to pay my respects.  What is remembered, lives.  They deserve to be known and honored.  However, I think the very best memorial to these unfortunate women is justice: reparations and care for those who still live and a place in the history books to help insure that this never happens again.

Welcome to the sixties!

So I set off for Ireland on the 22nd of June, 2014.  It was an early celebration of my 60th birthday, upcoming in September; an act of devotion and petition to my matron deity, the goddess Brigid, a.k.a. St. Brighid of Ireland; an intended time of introspection and reset of a chronic body dysphoria via the Brigid's Way Pilgrimage; and an interesting adventure. 

I began my trip with a few days in Dublin, keeping to myself as I recovered from jet lag and took care of a personal mission.  I then took a train to Dundalk to join up per plan with the Brigid's Way Pilgrimage, a nine-day walk through sites and countryside associated with Brigid, a trek of approximately 105 miles from the town of Dundalk to the site of Her monastic city in Kildare Town.  After a night in the Bewley Hotel near the Dublin Airport, I flew back to the U.S. 

The trip was very much as I had hoped in most respects.  My Dublin mission was accomplished.  Our trip organizers did a sterling job of organizing magical experiences for us, but tarnished this with incomplete planning, perhaps an overestimation of their own resources, and a serious mishandling of an unexpected situation that arose on the trip.  I met several new friends, some less than a day's drive away, and we are already planning a reunion, possibly at Samhain.  Walking about 95 miles in the lush greenness of Counties Louth, Meath, and Kildare did jump-start a more conscious awareness of fitness and rest, as well as an enhanced practice of walking meditation and prayer.  I came home feeling enriched in every possible day, ready to begin the next phase of my life.
 

Temple Bar, a fun and vibrant neighborhood fronted by the storied Liffey River which is, unfortunately, polluted, shallow, and utterly unappealing.  But Dublin architecture is fascinating with much clever use of brick and ornamentation that reminded me of William Morris's drawings.  Simply walking in such a fascinating city is an event in itself.