"That Girl" Stood on the Hill of Tara!

Much as I loved being in Dublin, and experiencing the bustle of tourists (not particularly), I absolutely loved my excursion out of Dublin to The Hill of Tara and to Newgrange, an ancient "passage tomb." While admittedly not a very religious person, as most religious institutions anger and confuse me, I am a very spiritual person, with a great deal of faith in a higher power etc. I found being at Tara to be a profoundly spiritual experience. Now, I recognize that this is a little weird. But bear with me.

Tara, the Hill of Kings, is an ancient archeological site, considered to be a sacred place associated with ancient high kings of Ireland. Possible used as a high sat, or perhaps as a ritual site, the area is now devoid of buildings and structures for the most part, and is predominately a wide open green range of gentle hills. It's difficult to explain, and even while I was there, trying to jot some notes in my journal, I was having trouble translating the experience into words. My journal entry devolved into a stream of sonsciousness ramble. It was amazingly quiet at the top of the hill. Not silent, as it was a very windy morning. But, because the wind was so sharp, it was honestly the only sound you could hear. I stood on top of the hill, looking out over 3/4 of Ireland with the wind burning in my ears. I travelled to Tara with tour group, and because it was so cold, we were the only adventurers atop the hill at the time. So I stood in peace and a quiet free of manmade sound and just was therefor awhile. I had a brief quiet cry up there, I think because it was so beautiful, and sort of a reminder to me how amazing this year is for me, this chance to see and do things that I had begun to think were never going to possible for me.

Coupled with that it also the intense energy of the place. Say what you like, but I do think that spaces and places have particulars vibes/energies/feelings, whatever you want to call it. For example, no theatre space can ever replicate the magic of the Playshop Theatre for me, at my undergrad. No place will have that energy for me. And, were I to revisit the space now, long out of undergrad, it might not feel the same. But I can still call up that feeling for myself, that memory of being in that place. In places like Tara, that idea of place and energy is necessarily tied up with a feeling of spirituality (as are most places in the natural world for me). I suppose I tend to gravitate towards stories of faiths and religions where women get a voice and a role. While not a practicing Catholic, I will probably always think of Mary as a friendly face, a better listener than the dudes she works for. In the same way, while being in a place like Tara, surrounded by the beauty of the natural world, it's comforting to think of that Mother Earth image, some sort of nurturing female-ish presence out there, having some power in our world. Anyway. Those are things I was thinking about on Tara. It was a painfully beautiful experience, and I'm sorry that I can't do it justice in words for you.

After Tara, we bundled back up into the blessedly warm tour bus and headed off to Newgrange, a powerful place in its own right. An ancient stone age site, it's called a passage tomb because human remains were found inside. Most likely however, its not a tomb in the traditional sense of burials, but rather a ceremonial place where ashes and offereings were placed, perhaps for the dead. I got to go inside, which was a total headtrip. Although the outside has been reconstructed, the inside is just as it would have been (barring a few health and safety changes) in the Stone Age. Totally amazing. The entry passage is long and narrow - even I had to duck and turn sideways just to get through. Then the passage opens into a small central chamber, with three little rooms surrounding it, thus creating, interestingly enough, a cruciform shape inside. As you stand in the central room, it would be completely dark without the floodlight on the wall. Completely. The entry passage has actually taken you up a small hill, so you are standing above the level of the door.

Newgrange is quite amazing though, in its solar alignment. There is a small opening over the door to Newgrange. On the winter equinox, the shortest day of the year, as the sign rises, the light penetrates this roof box, and, almost magically illuminates the inner chamber. For about 15 minutes, this black room is bathed in light from a window that cant be seen from the inside of the chamber. While we stood shoulder to shoulder in this stone wonder, our guide turned off the artificial lights, plunging us into total blackness, even on a sunny November afternoon. Then. she turned on a small lamp positioned at the roof box. The light streamed into the chamber, allowing us to see our feet, he walls around us, hints of faces. I stood in total and utter amazement. I was floored by the ingenuity and technical precision of our Stone Age ancestors, building Newgrange 500 years prior to the construction of the Pyramids at Giza. Amazement at considering what this experience would have meant to those same people - assurance that the days would once again grow long, that summer would come, that another season had been survived. I could have watched that demonstration 100times and still been agog every time. This was by far one of the coolest days of my life. Hands down.

So that was my big excursion out of Dublin proper. And I though about for the rest of the trip, and am in fact still revisiting it in my mind. An idea for a performance has sort of hatched, and I've been playing with that this week. It's not about Tara or Newgrange directly, but more about the idea of time and duration, how long things and experiences last. Anyways, it gave me a lot to ponder.


The rest of th trip was suitably grand as well. I saw John Gabriel Borkman at the Abbey Theatre with Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw and Lindsey Duncan, which was just lovely. It was a powerful production, with excellent synergy of design, direction and acting. A definite highlight, as was getting shake Alan Rickman's hand afterwards! In addition, I met some fun people who provided excellent company for the rest of my trip. I spent my last evening in Dublin hanging out with a gal from Australia, with whom I listened to an incredible Irish band, made of a grandmother and her grandson (and they ROCKED), molested statues in central Dublin (which I have the pictures to prove) and crashed some rich blonde girl's private birthday party (but only because we heard someone playing Britney Spears' on the piano from inside and had to investigate). Once inside, we accepted free Jameson from an embarrassingly drunk and even more embarassingly old man before making a hasty retreat. So from the spiritual to the ridiculous. Awesome. So that's it. Farewell, Ireland. And back to the grad school grind...

Love,
TGI