Tradition

My view of “tradition” was one of staleness. A barrier to progress, it was ignorant people resisting change and prolonging unnecessary conflicts.

And as I moved through the world in later years, I also recognised tradition as the preservation of fire. 

While important to burn off the branches that no longer support fresh growth, it’s important not to chop away at the trunk of foundation.

And what a foundation is the beautiful land of Ireland. Lush, green and full of intrigue, there is a genesis quality about it. Landscapes that inspire poets and religious devotees. Stone structures in varying states of decay telling stories about Druids and ancient Irish Kings. The small, isolated seemingly insignificant Little Rock in the Atlantic is cherished by many.

No one seems to have a beef with the Irish. Likeable, friendly, warm and funny, they are welcomed for their desire for a good time…for the“craic” they bring. 

It’s joked that its people are its greatest export, of which I am one. It was 5 years since my last visit. 13 years since I saw a golden temperate autumn…a time long enough to generate a sense of novelty. Snakes, sunshine and sand were my “new normal”. 

It was also a time long enough to build a hunger to hug familiar shoulders and look into familiar eyes on familiar faces 

Some faces have gone since my last visit. Some faces are more wrinkled. And some faces are brand spanking new. I loved seeing them all. More faces will come and more will go. But the fire of tradition will always burn strong. Til next time Ireland