We have been to Ireland and back and we are full of stories! We saw such amazing landscapes and were in awe of cliffs, fields, rivers and the roaring sea. We entered castles of grandeur and ruin, pubs rich with history and character, hotels of luxury and cottages of simple beauty. We saw villages and cities decked out in Christmas splendor and heard many Christmas musical offerings including the repeated rendering of Fairytale of New York with the country mourning the passing of their beloved Shane McGowan. And on our last day in Dublin we had breakfast at the Best Seller and it occurred to me the real reason I write. To have a best seller you might guess but if so you would be wrong. On a very enjoyable writing retreat I did very little writing but while sitting in a lovely Dublin wine cafe I took the most powerful message of the retreat to heart . Every time I sit down at my keyboard I set out to be the best writer I can be and tell the best story I can tell. I craft that story from start to finish, from the first tiny seed of an idea to the final read through of the copy edits and strive for it to be the best I can write with what I know and who I am at the time. The entire trip to Ireland is that too in so many ways. As an almost sixty-seven year old woman I know so little but have learned so much. I stood in the Newgrange Stone Passage tomb, a structure older than the pyramids and marveled at the vision and effort it took to create it. Tomorrow on the Winter Solstice, light will stream in to that space and stay for only minutes. Our lives and our contribution are just as fleeting as that stream of sunlight but they matter. My words matter and the effort I make into figuring this thing called living and being human matters as well.
On a Dublin Street
