From the top of Knocnarea, Co Sligo

Soon I part with my little home half way up this special mountain, Knocknarea. In the background below me you see Sligo bay, behind me across the bay to the right in a blue magical haze is Benbulbin, a mesa type mountain, and on the horizon way out beyond across the bay on a clear day you can see the Bluestack mountains of Donegal.

The photo was taken by Jon while on a visit here in August. He is my soulmate who has not waivered in his conviction and love that this pilgrimage is a sacred stepping, an exploration of the soul .... thank you, Jon, Grá geal mo croí.

we shall not cease from exploration
and the end of all our exploring
will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time ..... TS Elliot

The journey together continues..............

Cruachain - Royal Site of Connaught
On my last Sunday, I decided to do an exploration around Cruachain, the site of many wonderful mythical stories of Queen Maeve and her husband Ailill. It is from here they planned the Cattle Raid of Cooley which later was written about in Ireland's most ancient epic poem - Tain Bo Cuailgne.

I was blessed with a crisp beautiful Autumn afternoon when I arrived for my afternoon of exploration. Here in this photo I catch the setting sun resting on the mound at Rath Croaghan.

The Cruachain area is situated at the centre of the great limestone plain in Roscommon, known from early historic times as Magh Ai, today the starting point is at Rathcroghan cross roads. The site was the royal residence and inauguration site of Connacht. Standing 150m above sea level. It has 60 or so monuments, mounds and raths spread over the two mile area.

One Sidhe or fairy story is that of Feidelm the prophetess who came out of the fairy mound Cruachan to warn Queen Maeve that her armies would be covered in blood if she continued on her quest for the Brown Bull of Cualigne.

More to explore... for another day!

Rath na dTarbh - Fort of the Bulls.
From the Irish epic poem "Tain Bo Cuailgne" .

This is the site at Cruachain where the terrible battle bewteen the white horned bull of Ailill and the brown bull of Cualigne, captured by Mebh (Queen Maeve), took place.

Red Robin singing in the branches of this red berry tree at Cruachain -at the Rath na dTarbh

Jeff's Visit - to Matt and Kristin's in Belpatrick, Co Louth
Sons Jeff (left) and Matt (right)

Jeff flew over for a quick weekend trip to Dublin while in Frankfurt on a business trip. He had a chance to see Maeve and visit with Matt and Kristin in their new home.

Croagh Patrick - a pilgrimage site for thousands of years; now each July it is walked by tens of thousands of pentitent pilgrims on Garland Sunday (the last Sunday in July).

A few weeks ago, I was mediating using mountain imagery - mountains are sacred places, and this one in Ireland has a long history merging Christian and early Celtic ways. Instinctively, I knew I needed to climb Croagh Patrick.

I can say I did it! It was a laborous task, grueling, and at times I really did nt think I could make it to the summit. Forcing myself to continue as a challenge to face life fully, I crawled on my hands and knees literally clawing my way to the top along the final path to the summit. This is not a mountain for the faint hearted!

Completing this climb is one of the most humbling things I have ever done in life.

Climb up Croagh Patrick, Co Mayo - carrying with me special words and blessings. The cross is from my special friends in Midland and I carried their blessings (the blessings of the elders) and words with me to the top of the mountain. The stone at the head of the cross is one I have carried with me on this six month journey - it holds my dreams and prayers, and now is left here on this sacred mountain.

Here is a short "sceal" or story about the blessing of the "wise ones":
One of the first actions after the decision to make this journey, was to ask for a Blessing. I sought out dear friends who I consider are wise ones. I have known each of these dear friends for a long time some stretching back over 30 years. We have a long tradition of joining in prayer and social action together.

On this clear Saturday Spring morning in May, we were gathering once again for for breakfast and prayer. When Jon and I pulled up the car up to the kerb outside the little wood-framed gray house in Bay City, Michigan, I rolled the window down to savour the morning. Boxes of plants and herbs had been gathered for Jon to take home for planting in his new herb garden. I was struck by the simplicity of the moment and love which my dear friends have shared over the years.

It was then I thought of the way I could carry them in my heart while I was gone. I would ask each of them to give me a word or two which aptly describes their own personal experience of their journey as it is now unfolding for them. This way I could carry their hopes, their struggles, their giftedness to the world with me while I was gone.

National Museum of Country Life - Turlough Park, Co Mayo

National Museum of Country Life

It was magical for me to discover the Museum of Country Life in Turlough. I was entralled with the exhibit " Creideamh agus Draiocht" - Religion and Magic. Watch out, I will be putting into practice the ancient customs!

The image of the spinning wheel and iron nails from horse shoes connected with last week's Donegal Historical Society lecture in Ardara. Part of the Paddy McGill lecture series it was about the ancient temple and rites of inauguration of the Ard Ri na H-Eireann. The design from the ancient ones incorporated a wheel as part of the ritual (see my journal notes from Oct 28), and for the first time I understood the sacredness of the horse.

Discovery of the potency of red - a sacred color "dearg" no "rua" . It was viewed an unlucky to meet a red haired women while setting off on a journey. The "brad or ribin Bride" - St Brigids mantle, the patroness of cattle and dairy work. A piece of red cloth left out the night before her feast on Feb 1, would provide protection, and the power to cure headaches. The protective power of horse shoe nails - iron heated had a special protective quality.

Donegal - The drive back to Glen Colmcille from the Crolly babogi (doll) factory through the wilds of Donegal is so peaceful, and nourishing for the soul. I am finding my heart just singing with the changing colors of the afternoon sky. It is a beautiful October afternoon.

I found my way through two hours of back roads to the Crolly (Angaire) doll factory to get a special birthday doll for Caitlin. Bummer, when I arrive the shop has closed for the day. I have missed it by about a half hour. I am so disappointed. Then I notice a small sign on the door that says if you are really interested in buying a doll when the shop is closed, to call one of two telephone numbers and they will stop by. I do just that, and when I talk to the person on the other end she tells me she will be there in about five minutes. She keeps her word, comes by and opens up the shop for me. Alone, in the doll factory surrounded by these wonderful creations, it is hard to make up my mind......

Garinion (Grandaughter) Caitlín …Happy 1st Birthday Nov 18 Hugs and Loves and Kisses from Mamó

Ballinadoon Priory

After my Sunday afternoon walk, I left the grey skies over Culleenamore beach and headed off in the car to find Ballinadoon Priory where there is a stone marker for the “Councilor” Terence Mac Donagh.

St Mary’s Priory, Ballinadoon was founded in 1507 under the patronage of the MacDonagh’s. Although the lands were confiscated after Henry VIII’s suppression of the monasteries, the friars continued to live nearby until the late 18th century.

Terence MacDonagh (1640 – 1713) was one of the prominent legal advocates of his day. Through the influence of Lord Taffee, he had the distinction of being the only catholic counsel admitted to the Irish bar after the Battle of Limerick, and thus was the only Irish spokesperson during the initial onslaught of the Penal laws. He was instrumental in rescuing and restoring confiscated estates for the O Connor family of Sligo. The blind harpist Turlough O Carolan was a regular visitor to MacDonagh’s home at Creevagh. On the death of MacDonagh in 1713, the harpist O Carolan composed an elegy “Lament for Terence MacDonagh”.

Terence Mac Donagh Marker Through Alcove

While scouring around the Abbey tombstones and under the arches , I hear a rustling noise, coming from outside a small archway. I shouted “Hello there" . A soft shout back, “Be’god you gave me a fright” as a bentover man, a farmer, in his late seventies came through the arch looking my way. I told him I was checking out Terence Mac Donagh’s marker stone since he was one of my ancestors. I found his marker through an archway and in a small alcove.

Terence McDonough lyes win this grave.
That says enough for all that generous, brave, faceious, friendly, witty, just and good.
In this Lord’d name is fully understood. For it includes what e’r we virtue call, and is the hieroglyphick of them all.
Pray for ye soul of Ellin’r O Roirke his wife who caused this monument to be erected in the year 1737
October 1819 this monument was removed from Ballinagar and erected here by Andrew MacDonagh of Derna

“He’s not buried there" the farmer says .
“My father told me the story that the stone was took from Ballygar, in Roscommon, in the middle of the night and put it here” “Your family from around here?” he goes on to ask me.
"Yes, from Sligo, from the Ballymote area".
“Ah sure that six-seven miles away.” he says
....... to be continued ....

Visit to Mamó in Sligo: Trip to Breeogue Pottery

Late Saturday afternoon I took Matt, Kristin and Maeve on a mystery trip to Breeogue Pottery down at Ransborough. http://www.calleryceramics.com/ There we had a foot and hand casting made for Maeve. She was nt too sure if she liked the feel of her warm foot on the cold clay!

Beeogue pottery is located in the grounds of Breeogue lodge under the shadow of Knocknarea on the Coolera pennisula. The story of the Walsh family who built the lodge is an interesting one complete with a widow's curse.

The Walsh Family of Breeogue were descended from the old Norman-Welsh family of Walsh of Carrick mines, Dublin. Edward Walsh moved to Sligo (died 1782) and worked as a steward on an estate at Beltra. He fell in love and eloped with the landowners daughter. They married and settled down on a holding at the foot of Knocknarea.. His son Matthew greatly extended the family holdings. It was during his lifetime that the Walsh family settled at Bree. Matthew built the lodge there at the end of the 18th century at a cost of 100 pounds. Matthew Walsh was the leading landholder in the Coolera peninsula. He died in 1802 and is buried in Sligo Abbey:
Beneath this Stone in Heaven Sleep
The Virtuous Matthew lies
Ye Friends of his forebear to weep
For a good man never dies
On Matthew's death, the lands passed to his eldest son Laurence Walsh who at the time was involved in Catholic Emancipation. In 1842, he was succeeded by his eldest son Matthew Walsh (1805 -1887) who was not a popular landlord in his lifetime. It is said that a widow put a curse on Matthew’s family when she was forced to part with a small tenant holding for a fraction of its value. Shorty after this sale, Matthew’s three sons died while in their prime within a year of each other, and the estate was divided between his three married daughters. Breeogue Lodge and the demesne lands passed to his daughter Mrs P White. The other three unmarried daughters entered religious life. The last Walsh of Breeogue, Mother Claire, died in 1936.

Back to Ballybofey and Stranorlar - 1950's Childhood playmates

Almost at the end of my stay here I am going back to Ballybofey for an evening meal at one of the local hotels to meet with a group of women who like me had gone to St Mary’s National School in Stranorlar in the 1950’s.

In the photo there are two of my childhood playmates during my growing up years in Ballybofey(Eleanor, 2 nd on right), and Lelia (2 nd on left beside me) - we had stories to tell and memories to share. Mary McNulty (1st on left) lived across the street from me. Her family owned McNulty's "Chipper" - where we would go to get bags of hot chips (french fries). This was before the days of Ronald McDonald. At back is seated Philomena Brady and to the right Siobhan - both a few years older than me. Lelia, Eleanor, Martina and I were the little ones who watched what the older ones did! Martina, the young one of the group actually did teacher training at the same college I did in England. We missed each other by a few years - what a small world.

Before dinner there was a treat in store for me. Mary McNulty had a school picture of Finn College students taken while I was there(about 1958). She had received it from Chick Logue who owned the school. Chick’s father had founded the Finn College in 1929, he and his wife ran it until their deaths, making it a viable enterprise by providing lodging for the teachers as part of their compensation. After their deaths, Chick ran the school until changes in the Irish education system occurred during 1960’s when for financial reasons she felt she was forced to close it . To my delight the next day, Siobhan Brady took me to visit Chick Logue.

Gathering at Villa Rosa, Ballybofey

Lelia (middle), Eleanor (right), Etta

Finn College, Ballybofey. Closed in 1968.
I attended the Finn College in 1958 for a year. Then the next year was sent to boarding school to the Loreto nuns in Dalkey, Dublin for my secondary education. I thoroughly enjoyed the Finn College.
Finn College (2005)

Killoran "Relig", Sligo

I decide to seek out the Killoran graveyard (Relig) where my MacDonagh grandparents – Eugene and Anne (Hayden) MacDonagh are buried. From reading Daddy's manuscripts at the reference Library in Sligo, I have discovered not only are my grandparents, Eugene and Anne, buried there but also great grandparents Patrick and his wife, and great –great grandparents James and Betty.

I wander around the countryside, up and down lanes and dirt roads, back and forth looking for the Killoran site. There are no signposts. Finally spotting a farmer unloading his tractor, I pull up the car next to him. We chat for a good ten minutes during which time he has given me directions not only once but several times. "Ah, sure you're alone, are you?" he asks and then goes on to tell me I am great to be doing this by myself!

Arriving at Killoran, I find many of the graves are overgrown with weeds, ivy, undergrowth. I am dissapointed I can’t locate them. Daddy did record in his manuscripts that the MacDonagh sites are located beside the O Hara alcove. The O Hara alcove is marked with a placque put up by family members. Taking a black stone I have carried with me, I place it on a ledge there in remembrance and as a connection between me and my family buried here. I stop and pray for the elders and all who are buried here.

Killoran Graveyard - MacDonagh Site near O Hara Alcove

Strokestown - Site of the National Famine Museum

The designers of the Famine Museum declare upfront to “balance the history of the “Big House” using original documents from the archives found in the house. It is a tenant’s telling of the story… I found myself getting educated and feeling more informed about the famine than before I visited the museum.

It was also insightful and moving how the museum also brought together the link between the Famine in Ireland and the famines that today are occurring
around the world.
http://www.strokestownpark.ie/introtext.html
Strokestown - Site of National Famine Museum

Strokestown - The Perspective of the Ascendency

It is clear from historical records found in the big house at Strokestown that the Mahon family landowners of Strokestown during the Famine set about enforcing evictions for those who had rent in arrears and an emigration policy on an extensive scale to remove the poor and destitute from the land. Under the Poor laws in force in Ireland, the Mahon family would have been responsible for the destitute in their area. It was cheaper for them, as all landowners in Ireland at the time, to send the tenant on an assisted emigration passage than to pay for their upkeep in the workhouse. Built in the 18th century by the Pakenham-Mahon family, the family used only about one tenth of the land (about 100 acres) for their own use for hunting, fishing, gardening, the rest of the 10,000acres were rented out to tenant farmers or middle men who would sub let out small plots to tenant farmers.
Terms ....
Rudale system – people from a townland coming together in a collective partnership and rent land in a communal manner.
Clachan – housing settlement in the rundale system
Scalpeen - makeshift shelter that evicted families erected from the remains of their dwellings

In 1847, Mahon was the first of seven landlords to be assassinated in Ireland during this period. Two men were hanged for the murder.

To respond to Famine issues today - please consider a donation to http://www.concern.net

Growing up in Ireland in the 1950's and 60's there was little mention of the Great Famine. It was if there was a great shame associated with it. Finally, today there are sites and museums recognising the catastrophic conditions and toll in human suffering with an Ghorta Mhor - Buiochas le Dhia.
Conspiracy of Silence - Folklore Commission

It is a perfect day for taking the ferry boat across the nine mile stretch of the open Atlantic ocean to Tory Island. This view is of the eastern part of the island known as Dun Balor
Visit to Oileain Toraigh - Tory Island, off Donegal coastline

Journey to "Oileain Toraigh" - Tory Island

This is the place to feel the presence of myth and history intersecting. Not only is it another one of the sacred sites I have been drawn to visit this summer, it is also the fulfillment of a Donegal dream. Having grown up in Donegal, I listened to the stories about this fiercely independent and mysterious island. Many Donegal natives never make the trip to Tory but fervently talk about one day making the rough journey across to the island, if only to say with a certain degree of pride “I have been to Tory Island”. Part of the mystery with Tory is that even if you plan a trip to Tory on a certain day, you can never count on making the trip on that day because you are completely at the mercy and vagrancies of the weather. Until the actual day arrives, you can only then say with certainty I will go today. There is a fear with many that making the trip over they will get caught by a change in weather and be stranded for days on the island. Today I think is not going to be one of those days. I set off with a certain degree of confidence. Is there a metaphor for living life here?

Tory Island or Oilean Toraigh in Gaeilge, is believed to have been the earthly home of mythical people before the arrival of Christianity. Most famous are the stories of the fierce Fomorian king, Balor of the Evil Eye, who made his home on Tory. One of his eyes had the power of causing death to anyone who had the misfortune to fall in the path of his glance. As a young man Balor had secretly spied on druids working on a spell of death when a plume of poisonous fumes fanned out over him blinding him in one eye. Unable to quickly run away, the druids found him and told him that the spell of death had entered his eye. Anyone he looked at with that eye would instantly fall dead. Most of the time, Balor kept the eye closed except for battle when it took 10 men to pull open his eye. His evil eye made him a most powerful King of the Fomorians because whole armies could be defeated with one look from Balor’s eye......

to be continued ....

Addition note - check out http://sligoheritage.com/archbalor.htm for additional insights into the Formorians and Balor of the Evil Eye. Some researchers believe that the Formorian stronghold was not on Tory Island but on Dernish Island off the coast of Sligo

Famine Graveyard - Reilig na Ghorta Mhor

Famine Graveyard - An Ghorta Mhor

An Sceath - the lone Tree

All across Ireland today - there are finally signs of recognition and acknowledgement of the Great Famine. Growing up as a child, it was a silent history, a shame, an unspeakable event. It is a good thing that we now can come forward to mourn and grieve allowing our anger to say "not ever again". It answers the puzzle for me why is it that Irish people can be found across the globe today wherever famine strikes - today it is Niger.

This bronze tree in Sligo stands as a symbol of dignity. It commemorates the un-named dead of this area of Sligo who perished in the Great Famine 1845-1847. An Gorta Mor was like a never ending winter. It's chill of desolution brought hunger, disease, and death.

In Ireland, the lone tree or Sceath was held in a position of high importance from early Christian mythology to recent times. The boulder stones surrounding the base allude to ancient forms of burial.

“ Mar sceath fé thathaint na goath tá m’anam á lúbodh anocht.”
Sean Ó Riordáin

Famine Soup Pot - Donegal Historical Society

During the height of the Great Famine, in 1847 demand for the soup kitchen was at its highest and throughout Ireland over 3 million people (out of a population of 8 million) were receiving rations of soup. The Quakers were active in Donegal during the Famine. ... James Tuke, a member of the Society of Friends wrote in 1847 ... "Nothing, indeed, can describe too strongly the dreadful conditions of the people. Many were living on a single meal of cabbage and some even, as we were assured, upon a little seaweed."

A few friends from Class of 1963 Loreto Abbey Dalkey

Left to Right
Una Kinahan, Anne Logan, Mary Killen, Caroline Sinnott, PhillipaFeddis, Etta and Mother Matthew or today known as Sheila Kelly. She taught us Gaeilge....

Jon's Visit for a Week

Jon came for a week at the end of August. We hung out most of the time around Sligo exploring ancient sites, hill walking, hiking, and generally having a great time. Here we hiked through the valley around the famous Benbulbin Sligo landscape

Jon and Maeve enjoy each other!

Jon - on top of Knocknarea (Strandhill in background)

We took this fabulous 5 hour hike up and around the top of Knocknarea (Queen Maeve's tomb) and down into Strandhill where we stopped at a pub for a Guinness. How many men do you know who would support the women in their life taking this type of "pilgrim" journey I am on ... homage to him ... he is one of a kind.. love

On hike with Jon - am also enjoying our short time together

Maeve's Visit to Mamo - we are having a private chat!

Culleenamore Strand with Knocknarea in Background

This beach is about a 15 minute walk away for me (or about 5 minutes by car). Further down the bay is a riding school. On Wednesday, I was taking a morning walk at low tide. Three horses with their riders were slowly wading through the low water across the bay until they reached Culleenamore. Moving slowly out of the water, the riders held their horses back getting established on the beach, then all of a sudden they turned direction towards the point and took off racing along the strand.

On Sunday, after the poetry workshop weekend I came out here to unwind. I stopped to talk to an old man with a garden rake. He turning over the sand with his rake searching for cockles. We chatted for almost a half hour about the cockles he was finding, the mussel hunting further along the bay, and in general the state of the world. His bucket was half filled with cockles for his dinner later that evening.
Cullenamore Strand with Knocknarea in the Background

Culleenamore - Three Shells

This is the spot where I found the three most beautiful small round shells - one red, one green, and one yellow. The circles on the shells reminded me of the celtic swirls you see everywhere.

I brought the three shells home with me. Never had I seen such amazingly lovely shells. But what I learned the next morning was they were alive - overnight they moved from the prayer mat where I had placed them to various spots in the living room. I was startled when I woke up and went into the living room to see the empty space on the prayer mat. For several minutes I searched high and low across the floor, on the chairs, and in between books before finding the yellow shell.

Gently and carefully, I put all three of them in a little sack and carried them back to the very spot where I found them. What I noticed this time in this little section of the strand was that there were many other shells just as beautiful - but only in this little spot.

I laid the three shells out on the sand up against beach vegation. It was then I saw their little bodies move out from under the shells - they were still alive. The world was made right again.

View of the Ox Mountains from Cullenamore

My Home Away from Home

I have had questions about where I am living and what is it like.
Here are some photos of my little place! Mainly photos of the living area and kitchen.
It is from the window in the living room I look out over Ballsadare Bay, an smaller inlet in Sligo Bay where right now the tide is low and the water sparkles after a fresh rain.

Matt and Kristin and baby Maeve are visiting this weekend - it will be so good to show them around!

Ann Logan is dropping in on Thursday Aug 18

Then Jon arrives on Aug 20 for about 10 days - cant wait!

My entrance door...you are welcome!

View from the Living Room window out to the Bay.

Living Room futon - see the Eircom phone - where I take calls!

Kitchen with dishwasher - door to the right is into my bedroom

My prayer mat - fushia and lavendar from the garden, stones from my walks, my lifeline Petosky stone, and the Celtic cross with its blessing deep ...from my dear dear friends in Midand.

The little figurine is titled Love - two bodies joined together in Love embrace ... Jon has the same figurine in Ann Arbor ....

It has inscribed the words of Teillard de Chardin:
"Some day after we have mastered the winds, the waves, the tides, and gravity,
we will harness for God the energy of Love;
then for the second time in the history of the world, we will have discovered fire."

Yeats Summer School

Am finishing up the Yeats Summer School http://www.yeats-sligo.com/html/summer.html this week.

I had the opportunity to take a poetry workshop all day Saturday and Sunday with poet/writer Vona Groarke. It was incredible. About ten other students were in the group. To join the session we had to submit two poems prior to the workshop. The time was intensive but just flew by. I am fired to continue and develop. Much work to do reading, writing and editing and more editing!

Telephone Line Finally!

Finally have a land line (at least for today!). For those of you in the know it has been quite a saga to get this sorted out full of tricksters, trolls, magicans, shapeshifters, saboteurs, and yes even angels.

My telephone number in Sligo is 0719168300; from the US I think you need to dial 00353719168300 or 01353719168300!

My address is
Glen Road, Strandhill, Co Sligo

Go h-iontach!

Walking Across Cummen Strand to Coney Island (Inis Ui Mhaolchluiche)

Emer's car taking off to finish her journey across to the island

Cummen Strand and Knocknarea in the background

Red Hanrahan's Song about Ireland
The old brown thorn-trees break in two high over Cummen Strand,
Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand;
Our courage breaks like an old tree in a black wind and dies,
But we have hidden in our hearts the flame out of the eyes
Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
The wind has bundled up the clouds high over Knocknarea,
And thrown the thunder on the stones for all that Maeve can say.
Angers that are like noisy clouds have set our hearts abeat;
But we have all bent low and low and
kissed the quiet feet Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
The yellow pool has overflowed high up on Clooth-na-Bare,
For the wet winds are blowing out of the clinging air;
Like heavy flooded waters our bodies and our blood;
But purer than a tall candle before the Holy Rood
Is Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
W. B. Yeats

Walk on Cummen Strand

Déardaoin Thursday July 28 Cummen Strand

Took a three hour and half hour hike across Cummen Strand at low tide to Coney Island or the gaeilge name for it is Inis Ui Mhaolchuiche.
It was amazing to be walking across to an island at low tide. I was a little over half way accross when a car pulled up beside me. I said hello (talk to everyone), how you doing? Her name was Emer. She and I chatted for a while, she in her car me standing on the empty strand. She was returning home to the island to visit her parents and sister and had timed her arrival from Dublin to coincide with the outgoing tide so she could get her car across! I met an island child - who asked me "Are you sure you are going to make it back before the tide comes in?" implying the tide was coming in ... his mother rushed in with "Pay no attention to him".

Walking through the Hidden Glen