Thank you so much for this, I’m looking forward to exploring more of your work!
I have noticed in my walk, my practice, I am known to the sea, sky, and land of Ireland, to her myths and old places (with my wide Irish head and wild hair) but not as readily to the people. The myths, yes, they see and feel me as kin. Gratefully, I have been welcomed by some incredible Irish women whose lines were never broken or strained, unlike mine, where my Irish ancestors left to farm in Australia, and their welcome has offered me a sense of belonging that echoes the land and waters. My Scottish side is less apt to hold me at arm’s length, my grandpa being from there and knowing some living cousins, however the longing still remains, and though I can claim ‘Celt’ and my bones and face are of these places, my culture and upbringing are not. I’m grateful to be claimed by the lands though, that has provided profound nourishment.
As an immigrant myself (Aus->USA), I once heard someone say you’re only ever up to 75% of a place once you leave, 75% your origin, 75% your new home, never complete, and that, like this beautiful piece, really resonated with me.
Thank you Heather, for sharing your experiences as a Woman of Ireland with us! So lovely to hear how you are following the threads in your family and weaving them together! Love the point about 75%.... so true!!
As always my soul feels nourished, seen and held in your gently Weaving use back into the fabric of our own past, from which so many of us feels confused not knowing we were even separate from!!!
I can relate to SO much of this.... but oddly, I only moved to Dublin from Wexford.... I left my home village, moved to the big smoke for college then work, eventually grew out of childhood friendships and left my old self behind so I could grow, spread my wings and see how much of me was yet to unfold when no longer stiffled by the shapes of 'my home town'.... I became all of me and it felt great.... but somehow I always felt like I got "too big for my boots" and couldn't fit in at home now if I tried..... I haven't attempted it and not sure I want to but the sense and feeling I have is ... I departed but to come home feels like I've cheated on my home town some how, like now I'd almost feel I've failed if I went home or like thats how it would be viewed.... and I feel I'd suffocate in that life anyway.....
.
Interestingly ... as a result of 'cutting myself off from home', I feel like a kind of immigrant in my own country... displaced... not quite belonging anywhere, to any community, to one place.... I'm neither a country woman or a city woman anymore... somewhere in between....
.
And... even more interesting... that same protective feeling of judging how Irish somebody truly is, like.... how Irish they really are... whether an outsider is welcome to settle here and call themselves Irish... ashamedly, I can feel those thoughts in me.... it feels automatic, not actually who I am, but I hear them in my head and feel them in my body.... like its part of my dna.... but the voice is not specifically mine and its also not not..... I feel the small town judgement even in my own mind to others ... I don't like it... BUT then wonder (and more so realise) that my judgement of others and these thoughts are the same projections and reflexions against myself that I feel my home town would have against me.....
The very rejection I feel as an Irish person displaced in my own country and the rejection thar rises so easily, and with huge distaste, within my own self upon feeling the need to somehow protect the Irish Ness of Irleand too from 'perceived' outsiders...
It feels bone deep, instinctual, but so interesting to place a boney cold finger on....
The shame and light to that shame, from this post, has been illuminating as always
Thank you for this! I lived in Ireland for most of my twenties (about 9 or 10 years). I did so much growing up there, as you do when you're in your twenties, but I definitely understand what you mean when they talk about this Irish litmus test. Eventually, my accent adapted to the place (I find this happens more easily for people whose original accents are from the American South), so I wasn't immediately identifiable as American. But there is an underlying sense that you'll never really belong in the place. I find this difficult to talk about because I'm very influenced by Ireland culturally (it helps that there are more than a few similarities between Ireland and Louisiana), and I have people there that I genuinely consider family. I also feel a much greater sense of belonging in Ireland than I do where I live now (Berlin). But the funny thing about that is, there is sort of this idea that anyone that lives in Berlin is Berliner (of course, there are some caveats to that), but I know no one in Ireland ever would see me as really belonging to the place.
Thank you so much for this piece which deeply resonates. And thank you for your work in general. I feel like I’ve stumbled on a treasure trove. Reading the comments too is also very nourishing.
Ah thank you so much! I am delighted to have you here and so glad to know that something in what I write reaches you / gives a language to your experiences in some way, as that is all I ever hope for! xx
Thank you so much for this, I’m looking forward to exploring more of your work!
I have noticed in my walk, my practice, I am known to the sea, sky, and land of Ireland, to her myths and old places (with my wide Irish head and wild hair) but not as readily to the people. The myths, yes, they see and feel me as kin. Gratefully, I have been welcomed by some incredible Irish women whose lines were never broken or strained, unlike mine, where my Irish ancestors left to farm in Australia, and their welcome has offered me a sense of belonging that echoes the land and waters. My Scottish side is less apt to hold me at arm’s length, my grandpa being from there and knowing some living cousins, however the longing still remains, and though I can claim ‘Celt’ and my bones and face are of these places, my culture and upbringing are not. I’m grateful to be claimed by the lands though, that has provided profound nourishment.
As an immigrant myself (Aus->USA), I once heard someone say you’re only ever up to 75% of a place once you leave, 75% your origin, 75% your new home, never complete, and that, like this beautiful piece, really resonated with me.
Thank you Heather, for sharing your experiences as a Woman of Ireland with us! So lovely to hear how you are following the threads in your family and weaving them together! Love the point about 75%.... so true!!
As always my soul feels nourished, seen and held in your gently Weaving use back into the fabric of our own past, from which so many of us feels confused not knowing we were even separate from!!!
I can relate to SO much of this.... but oddly, I only moved to Dublin from Wexford.... I left my home village, moved to the big smoke for college then work, eventually grew out of childhood friendships and left my old self behind so I could grow, spread my wings and see how much of me was yet to unfold when no longer stiffled by the shapes of 'my home town'.... I became all of me and it felt great.... but somehow I always felt like I got "too big for my boots" and couldn't fit in at home now if I tried..... I haven't attempted it and not sure I want to but the sense and feeling I have is ... I departed but to come home feels like I've cheated on my home town some how, like now I'd almost feel I've failed if I went home or like thats how it would be viewed.... and I feel I'd suffocate in that life anyway.....
.
Interestingly ... as a result of 'cutting myself off from home', I feel like a kind of immigrant in my own country... displaced... not quite belonging anywhere, to any community, to one place.... I'm neither a country woman or a city woman anymore... somewhere in between....
.
And... even more interesting... that same protective feeling of judging how Irish somebody truly is, like.... how Irish they really are... whether an outsider is welcome to settle here and call themselves Irish... ashamedly, I can feel those thoughts in me.... it feels automatic, not actually who I am, but I hear them in my head and feel them in my body.... like its part of my dna.... but the voice is not specifically mine and its also not not..... I feel the small town judgement even in my own mind to others ... I don't like it... BUT then wonder (and more so realise) that my judgement of others and these thoughts are the same projections and reflexions against myself that I feel my home town would have against me.....
The very rejection I feel as an Irish person displaced in my own country and the rejection thar rises so easily, and with huge distaste, within my own self upon feeling the need to somehow protect the Irish Ness of Irleand too from 'perceived' outsiders...
It feels bone deep, instinctual, but so interesting to place a boney cold finger on....
The shame and light to that shame, from this post, has been illuminating as always
Thank you for this! I lived in Ireland for most of my twenties (about 9 or 10 years). I did so much growing up there, as you do when you're in your twenties, but I definitely understand what you mean when they talk about this Irish litmus test. Eventually, my accent adapted to the place (I find this happens more easily for people whose original accents are from the American South), so I wasn't immediately identifiable as American. But there is an underlying sense that you'll never really belong in the place. I find this difficult to talk about because I'm very influenced by Ireland culturally (it helps that there are more than a few similarities between Ireland and Louisiana), and I have people there that I genuinely consider family. I also feel a much greater sense of belonging in Ireland than I do where I live now (Berlin). But the funny thing about that is, there is sort of this idea that anyone that lives in Berlin is Berliner (of course, there are some caveats to that), but I know no one in Ireland ever would see me as really belonging to the place.
Thank you so much for this piece which deeply resonates. And thank you for your work in general. I feel like I’ve stumbled on a treasure trove. Reading the comments too is also very nourishing.
Ah thank you so much! I am delighted to have you here and so glad to know that something in what I write reaches you / gives a language to your experiences in some way, as that is all I ever hope for! xx