Today’s adventure takes place in yesteryear, now, and the future – for what we experienced today will come with us tomorrow…in the best possible way!

The groups of Wild Westies set out today to visit the one and only Michael Roberts; a local anthropologist whose insight into the Wild West of Ireland is without end. We were fortunate enough to steal him away for the day to guide us around his areas of expertise – and he did so with enthusiasm; narrating our adventures with a voice of quiet passion & deep resonance.

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When it comes to making anthropological connections, Michael is the person to listen to – gathering with him around the sites of megalithic tombs in the area [an area he grew up in, knows well, and loves] was a mesmerizing experience. No one else in the world; I feel, could bring the dead back to life with the poignancy and courtesy Michael Roberts has. He has, as one Wild Westie put it, “a story for everything” – but it never feels like he’s even thinking about what he’s saying. He’s thoughtful, it just happens to be that his words flow like water, a delightful and refreshing stream of concise consciousness made myth, then made word.

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We got to walk around this incredible old-world site while Michael drew connections between Ireland’s ancient past with that of Egypt’s and Native American culture – things people might seldom connect came together with absolute clarity. He focused majorly on old Irish legends, however – there were so many Celtic myths in particular that explained the natural formations of the Irish countryside; such as how the “Mother” figure of Ireland presented itself in various forms; why there was a shadow on a nearby mountain, and the origin story of the megalithic site itself [a ‘hag’ happened to drop a bunch of stones in a fit of surprise, but that’s really a legend I leave up to Michael to tell – you’ve got to hear him speak at least once in your life].

Everyone was enraptured by Michael – hanging onto every word he had to say; from his wider anthropological take on the folklore in the area to his stories of boyhood. He spent his youth exploring everything this green corner of the world had to offer – his heart thrives here, and it shows in the way he encourages people to ask questions, embrace the region’s heritage, and earnestly shares whatever information he has [it’s a lot; for those keeping score] with anyone he feels might be interested.

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Michael is all about the human connection to the earth and to each other. After a lunch with further discussion [plus delicious food], he took us to a nearby holy well; one of beautiful statues, stations of the cross, and a magnificent rag tree. Water flowed throughout the site, filling the air with the music of movement that cascaded toward the sea. Rustling leaves and hushed voices were all that filled the glen of emerald and Kelly hues. Before entering, Michael told us about the spiritual properties of one aspect of the well with an interesting illumination: that sometimes just the act of doing something to counteract a predicament [an ailment; mental, physical, spiritual, etc.] could be enough to help it. It helps a person feel less stagnant, at any rate. Like a placebo, to place oneself in an area of healing with intention to help oneself is sometimes a kick-start toward recovery – just because you’re finally able to do something to help yourself.

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After that, it was off to one of Michael’s favorite places growing up – a magnificent forest sanctuary around the lough we’d traveled on earlier in the week. Apparently he used to swim the length of it – something mad like nine miles across. He and his friends also caught their own game and cooked it out there; climbed the mighty stone in the heart of the woods, and got up to all sorts of mischief. This, he said, was his playground in his youth. And one could see why, with plenty of places to run and so much to see. He told us to take time to soak it in, and it was a beautiful contemplative walk in the shimmering woods; hearing the lapping of the lake waters against the shore, scanning the silvery surface for signs of life, and breathing deeply the scent of earth and pine…

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It was a reminder for man to reconnect with nature.

We had to split from Michael then; my group of Wild Westies and I, for it was off to the sea for a seaweed bath at a local spa.

21740290_10155468475761885_1266647936976892748_n.jpg It was a bit surreal to go from the rambling woods and sloshing lough to the steam rooms and tiled floors of the spa – but it was also somehow so inadvertently right, to lay down and submerge in nature as caught by man, rising to hear the sound of the ocean just outside the window. To sit in quiet meditation again and allow nature to soak into one’s skin was appropriate with the themes of the day. A ritual, if nothing else, to center oneself and perform an act of healing.

It’s as important for one to be an individual as one is a part of a community, and vice-versa – talking with one another today and sharing the experience of reflective silence in the forest was a really harmonious balance. With Michael spinning his stories and weaving us in, the threads of the day came together with simple magnificence.

Community, conversation, connection, and celebrating a history of nature and man culminated in David entertaining us back at one of the B & Bs with wonderful music – on three separate instruments, no less. Irish traditionals centuries old filled the air on tin whistle, harp, and guitar – David was even kind enough to sing for us [quite nicely, I might add], and the whole experience of an admiring group of colleagues communicating on several levels felt so genuine. That belonging feeling returned; giving us a sense of ‘home’. Residual memory, perhaps, from ancestral times.

Altogether, today felt like something out of a dream – I was walking among ancient tombs, then a well that’s been visited for thousands of years, then treated myself to a wonderful spa followed by private music and more stories. I simply want to curl up with Michael Roberts’ book, and relive the stories I heard today – to keep the history of Ireland; her legends and lore, and all the nature I can carry with me alive in my heart.

Until next time folks, be well!

Sam Fishkind

Wild West Irish Tours

Social Media Manager & Scribe

Day three of the Wild West Irish Tours live blogging adventure – and let me tell you, folks, today was one of the greats!

After another hearty breakfast lovingly prepared by Geraldine, I set out with my group; Senan at the helm, to discover what the day had in store…

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First and foremost to wake us up was a riverside walk to a pair of caves that served as areas of prayer during olden times. The remnants of a nearby abbey and mill wheel kept watch as the Wild Westies took in the sight of the rushing waters and fragrant greenery. Just a little bit down the way and ‘round the bend was one of Ireland’s famous holy wells, a place of quiet reflection and worship. A statue of St. Patrick stood guard nearby; overlooking an inlet the sea swept toward, five crosses in a circle indicating how and where one would pray if so inclined. The area resonated with peace, and the rag tree of people’s prayers danced on the breeze in an array of a hundred colors.

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After spending some time there (and, if you’re me, squirreling away blackberries up the path on the way back), we headed further North, just across the line that divides Ireland in two. But blink and you’ll miss it, because the scenery is so beautiful it distracts from the subtle difference between Ireland & Northern Ireland –a nearby mural hidden behind a convenience store I glimpsed on our way back that said “Welcome to Donegal” was all I had to go on to know we were headed South(ish) again.

We were part of a fascinating tour of a local craft and how it’s made – iconic decorative pieces originating in Ireland with definable parts meshed with informative (yet ever entertaining) speakers. We explored a factory wherein it became a living episode of How It’s Made – complete with demos, interactive activities, and more. I’m pleased to report our Wild Westies were the bold and brave ones to volunteer themselves at every opportunity to participate – helping to illustrate the detailed process which results in elaborate, individual creations still made by hand today:IMG_6245.JPG

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After that, it was a quick bite in a local pub that had excellent fare and quite the ambiance – an eclectic collection of local (stuffed) game; nick-knacks from eras past [someone spotted a disco ball hanging out in the rafters], and a beautiful mural of a black cat and fairies, which came with folklore we could glance at on the wall. According to legend, the pub was built where a black cat used to guard the river for the fey. You’ll have to come admire it for yourself, though – nobody tells a story quite like the locals, even in written form.

Then it was off on a rollicking adventure along the seaside – a castle in the distance with storied history loomed on the horizon; surveying the great crashing waves of the Wild West Atlantic Way; which tossed foam up to the heavens and dragged saltwater by the gallon back over aging stone. Senan was kind enough to make stops for us here and there [with wonderful info on the local areas provided] so we could look down at the waves, admire the rolling fields, and, if you’re me, set off on your own small adventure…IMG_6328.JPG

IMG_6301This is when things got absolutely magical, in my opinion – all of it’s grand, but every experience is uniquely tied to the individual on a Wild West Irish Tour. You can tinker and tailor it to fit you; and, in my case, I tinkered and tailored my way across the cliffs to a friendly face I saw longing for attention [or perhaps just fresh grasses] nearby. While others were looking at the ocean, examining stone walls, taking photos for Christmas cards [no joke – ask Wild Westies Tom and Margaret about their cute travel-themed cards], I was being nuzzled and nosed by a brand new friend.

We gathered around a local time capsule after that – a brilliant piece of artwork that’s meant for generations to come; set against the water. The details of it are gorgeous – each lovingly chosen and splendidly made.IMG_6335

Then came a walk in three parts – the first being a stroll through the woods under an iconic mountain; led along by another river that ushered us into the territory of mining and intrigue. Following this, we gathered in the heart of a beloved loop whose poignant, multifaceted history shines as bright as any emerald. The third took place on a windswept plane that bridged the gap between reality and fantasy; hugged on either side by mountains of geological and mythical magnificence.

 

It was very grounding as it was uplifting; really – to be immersed fully in the truly wild aspect of the Wild West of Ireland. There was laughing into the open face of the ocean and its breezes; running up hills for a better look at the lay of the land below, and taking time to wander by oneself, allowing the grandeur to truly sink in.

We have so much to discuss among one another when the day comes to a close – swapping stories about ourselves that relate to our surroundings, asking questions, and thoroughly engaging with one another really solidifies the impact of this particular experience. No matter who you are or where you’re coming from, you really do find a home here; sitting around a table at the end of the day with your fellow Wild Westies.

Home as of now just happens to be the incredible, unpredictable, ever awe-inspiring Wild West of Ireland.

See you tomorrow folks!

                Until next time,

                Sam Fishkind

                Wild West Irish Tours

                Social Media Manager & Scribe

Back at it again with day two of a Wild West Irish Tour’s brief coverage for you all!

Today began with plenty of food, laughter, and caffeine – everything at the B & B is provided; you’re never left wanting for anything. Geraldine made sure we had fuel in our tanks before we set out on our adventures for the day: learning a bit about the man who made the Land of Heart’s Desire more visible, a roam around an old-world castle, a sweeping adventure across a silvery lake, a trip to a cozy tea room, and a great fanfare of local pub music that outdid anything I’d heard before…

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We began by visiting the grave of the one and only W.B. Yeats in a beautiful cemetery under the watchful eye of a familiar mountain. As you can see, Yeats himself seems to emulate the ‘great things in simple places’ motif – his desire to be memorialized without grandeur is evident here.

It was a strange joy; finding out a bit about his life from David; one of our capable driver-guides. I learned much from him about Yeats that I hadn’t been able to pick up from my studies, and everyone was enraptured with the way he told a story. Some of us broke off after a brief chat about the poet in question with the simple headstone to explore the church grounds – looking at said church’s interior, admiring the tall crosses, or simply breathing in the fresh air before we moved on to our next big adventure…

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Which happened to be the magnificent castle.

It was constructed; originally, in the 17th century – some of the old stone work from a structure prior is still visible to the eye, along with many fascinating details of varying eras. Rolling up to it is impressive enough as-is, considering its significant size and the way the castle drops off into a grand overview of the enormous lake beside it. The guides IMG_6074inside were friendly; funny, attentive, and eager for questions as the Wild Westies explored the places prestigious families would’ve made their dwellings in, admired woodwork remastered by means of its original craftsmanship, and found out the real use for a moat in this particular Irish abode…

An interesting highlight here is that during one of our presentations David decided to go test out the acoustics upstairs in the former banquet hall of the castle on a whim. It was something so authentically miraculous to hear beautiful music whilst waiting for the next presentation to start downstairs – a haunting lilt that filled the halls with something of another time. It was as if the castle had come briefly back to life; though it still thrives with the care and attentiveness of its guides and teachers; as well as consistent efforts in historically-accurate restoration. Altogether it was yet again a fabulous emphasis on people vs. area – not against one another, but feeding into one another in terms of culture, preservation, and enthusiastic willingness to share their history [and selves] with others.

We followed our “pied piper” and Senan [our other capable, informative driver] then out toward the lake to board a ship manned by a one umistakably famous Captain George – as blustery in words as the gusts on the lough today; but much warmer and more welcoming. Tina; first mate [and captain’s wife!] kindly served us tea upon entry to the wonderful little vessel – a nice surprise to enjoy while we set sail on the most majestic mirror of freshwater that shone under a briefly-platinum sky.

The sun did come out to play, however – dancing across the glistening waves that lapped the edges of the boat, guiding us on toward places that held homes in the heart of Yeats’ stories & poems as well as local legend and history. Captain George got us all reciting poetry with him;  narrating our adventure with lively music and conversation, which made the journey seem timeless and grand. Towering trees – “forty shades of green,” the good Captain pointed out to all of us – lined the hills that dropped and rolled toward the lough’s surface. Standing on the deck to survey all that could be seen, breathing in that dewy air – I could not possibly recommend a more refreshing thing to experience fully.

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We swung into a tea room for lunch after disembarking; cozily snuggled into a historical local tavern – their tea menu was varied, and let me just say, you can never have too much tea…especially in Ireland. For those keeping score; I had a delightful Turkish apple-pineapple tea that required nothing but itself to be enjoyed. It was a perfect pick-me-up for the walk to follow –

 

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A walk that followed a roaring river and emerald woods up to a magnificent abbey that overlooked the land from its seat in the sun. Windows long vacant became frames for the puffy white clouds and cerulean sky; while Senan took the time to explain a few details of the abbey – from carvings of St. Francis to the grave of a priest people went to for blessings; their ailments allegedly abated by spoonfuls of said priest’s grave dirt – there’s a whole method to it, but you’ll have to come here and have a local tell you the details. I’d hate to get it wrong and lead you all astray….

 

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Which brings me back to the “pied piper” motif, actually – albeit this time, we were led to a most marvelous little pub in town that held jam sessions every so often. We were fortunate enough to squeeze in before the crowds, gathering around to hear fiddles, concertinas, guitars, and of course, another tin whistle – met with cheers, whoops, hollers, claps, and the thumping of feet against the floor. Everyone came alive when the music came out – several Wild Westies enjoyed fresh beer on tap from a friendly barkeeper. It seemed only a matter of time before a few of us were to jump up and dance – luckily, we spared the locals…for now.

Though I’ve no doubt they would’ve joined in with the dancing, actually – the energy was up and spirits high. Music, one of a few universal languages, was spoken loudly and joyously tonight. And we; the Wild Westies, were eager to listen.

 

All in all, it was a lovely action-packed day of melodies in every form that drew us together – a thread tugging many threads as one, stitching into creation a magnificent tapestry of wonderful sound and a thoroughly genuine experience.

Tomorrow we’re back at it again with more surprises in store for you yet – stay tuned for the next installment of our exciting times in the Wild West of Ireland!

Until then,

Sam Fishkind

Wild West Irish Tours

Social Media Manager & Scribe

Welcome to the daily updates of a Wild Westie on the Move!

Day one closes on a beautiful beginning to a Wild West Irish Tour.

What an experience it’s been – now that I’ve caught up on a little sleep and a lot of food, I can effectively [and drowsily] inform you of some of what’s transpired thus far.

First and foremost, it’s wonderful to feel as safe and surrounded by love as I do here in the Wild West of Ireland. From our drivers to Geraldine; one of our beloved B & B keepers, there’s not a moment wherein I am uneasy. Everyone is helpful as they are informative and warm. There’s not a meal that isn’t good – every bite; from full breakfasts to lunch paninis and dinner entrees (tonight I had chicken goujons – and chips!) is scrumptious. The air is fresh and smells of the wet earth and sea; and everything is without restraint – the world thrums with energy.

Secondly, our adventures today were but a taste of what’s in store for all of us on this particular grand adventure: emphasizing a particular point Wild West Irish Tours tends to focus on.

Expecting great things in simple places: breaking this down, the countryside itself in the Wild West of Ireland is teeming with stuff to do: not big bus tours; mind, but rather, finding local musicians who might be playing in a pub nearby, encountering poets in unexpected areas, or, in our case, being welcomed into the home of Kathleen Meehan, one of the most talented knitters I think I’ve ever met.

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Kathleen welcomed us into her home as if we were her own kin – tea was on, the stove was warm, and her rainbow of wares was laid out for the world to see. Crimsons, lavenders, cobalts, black wool and all were on display – some sweaters long enough to serve as dresses, others snug cardigans with perfect buttons all lined up in rows. I, having had the pleasure of greeting the wind with my baseball hat in a handshake that sent my cap flying [shout out to fellow Wild Westie Tom who retrieved my wayward hat], opted for one of Kathleen’s lovely hats – something she noted tended to go quick. I counted myself fortunate, especially when we hiked later: the cap I’d brought would’ve never kept my ears warm on the way up the mountains.

What struck me about the experience was that Kathleen was just so genuine – a woman of sharp mind, enormous talent, and big heart altogether made for feeling like family who happened to knit (albeit super-humanly well). She went out of her way for everyone, grabbing mirrors so her guests could see themselves; telling us about her trade, and even demonstrating how fast she knits at the behest of a few Wild Westies. In the heart of her cozy cottage by the sea, I felt as if I’d come home.

                It’s how I feel with Geraldine; actually, too [and did from the get-go the first time we met] – the ability to simply talk to people here is remarkable. Folks seem to want to talk; and are happy to chat about any old thing. For someone like me who communicates primarily through the written word, it’s definitely helped me come out of my shell – it’s good for the soul to have human connection no matter where you go. And important to remember in the age of digital communication and urban settlement. The country is much more open in oh, so many ways.

There’s a Gaelic saying that goes something along the lines of “,” or, “there’s no hearth like your own hearth”. I would disagree if only to amend and say that these hearths of the Wild West of Ireland do in fact feel like one’s own hearth. Rather than being a visitor; this immersive, heartfelt experience allows for one to fully embrace the sentiment of “home”. Between multiple cups of tea, laughter and conversations, it’s easy to settle in –

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Until of course, you find yourself at the top of a great height looking down into a cerulean sea; transported into another world of clashing swords on bobbing waves, the foam of which thunders against the craggy stones below. You can see the waterfalls rushing down the slick sides of great cliffs; the boom of the surf muffled only by the towering height you have between yourself and the water.

There’s the surreal addition of scaling ever higher, watching the whitecaps become white commas on the crests of the waves. The mists descend to meet you; foggy hands hauling you up slippery slopes towards the heavens. Everywhere is silver and light; and the wind nips at one’s heels to urge faster travel.

“Coming back down,” noted Virginia, another one of my Wild Westie companions, “was much faster.” She said this with the comedic timing of a trained acrobat as the mountain; with a truly Irish sense of humor, refused her foot a little on her next step (she’s perfectly fine and we laughed about it later, not to worry). The rain chased us on the way back, but that didn’t bother me – there was a little cart at the bottom of the winding road that was calling my name; and my insatiable curiosity (plus rumbly stomach) brought me to the window to ask for (not a hot chocolate as the man behind the counter sort of expected) honeycomb ice cream. It was the divine nectar of old and unnamed gods; that – enjoyed thoroughly as I hastened back to the car, refusing to be late for the next leg of the adventure.

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What’s beautiful about this next part is how people and land came together: in a cove by the sea sat a village frozen lovingly in time: preserved to its fullest, with cultural significance and historical fascination. Thatched roofs and beautiful accents of color made each little cottage unique – artifacts as old as the land itself; just about, existed within – along with everything that’d piled up in the decades to follow. A note from an Irishwoman found by Newfoundland sailors in one little house was the most recent thing I could find – a letter from a bottle from the sea back in 2004, retrieved and brought back whence it came. An endless cycle of communication exists even in houses silent save for their guests. There was also something so wholesome about how the founder of that village had striven to make something good there, and how his good lived on preserved in the land and what was built upon it.

 

On a similar subject, I must add that the minute we stepped out of the van, we saw a beautiful plaque of stonework depicting each county in Ireland (with stone from the respective counties!) – another exemplary balance of people and place. What’s taken from the land always seems to be given back in some way, shape, or form.

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The closing for today was a lovely visit back at the B & B from the even lovelier Laura Ganley of the Ganley Sisters– an enthusiastic, brilliant young lady who tells stories almost as fast (and concisely) as she dances. Between her incredible footwork and her practiced methods in movement, Laura is a free-spirited person who feels the music resonate through her very soul: someone who takes the Sean-Nós traditional dancing and gives it her own twist! She’s traveled to America with Wild West Irish Tours before – something she delights in, as dancing anywhere, she says, is her deepest passion. She’s constantly trying new things, allowing the artistry of dance to become a living language that bursts out of her so fiercely it scarcely seemed impossible to glimpse sparks beneath her heels. She was met with well-deserved thunderous applause and cheering all night long; her poise and pluck unrivaled – from reel to jig and barrel dance, she made everything seem effortless and lively.

Her presence sparked more conversations – she told us of her love of Wal-Mart when she was over in America, how her dad embarrasses her from time to time with his silly antics, and all of a sudden, it was back to Earth for all of us in the best possible way, I feel. The ethereal quality of landscape, music, dance, is grounded beautifully by the people of Ireland. These are people of the earth who live and breathe their world; especially those who live by the land and the trades they can perform. They embrace passion and meet life with zeal; with spirit. To merely sit and talk overlooking the mountains and ocean; to fully experience the moment with others, was literally great & simple. Leisure time, after all, has become quite the luxury.

Today was, in conclusion, as my friends and family back home put it, “just enough” for day one.

That being said, I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings!

                                                                                                Until then,

                                                                                                Sam Fishkind

                                                                                                Wild West Irish Tours

                                                                                                Social Media Manager & Scribe

 

Good morning, good afternoon, good evening!

It occurs to me that some of you may not know exactly who or what a Wild West Irish Tour is. I’d be happy to break that down for you now!

   Wild West Irish Tours is the beloved creation of Trish O’Donnell-Jenkins and Michael Waugh, founded [appropriately] on Saint Patrick’s Day in 2011. It explores fundamental traditional Irish practices, historical places, and the seldom-seen beauties of the Wild West of Ireland. Assisted by such wonderful people as Joe McGowan [an author and storyteller engrossed in the preservation of Irish traditions], Dr. Michael Roberts [whom you might remember from a previous post], and many terrific others, the Wild West Irish Tours took off with a triumphant symphony of fiddles and flutes. You can read more about it here, however…

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Westie Margaret Ann & a few local friends!

You might’ve been expecting something along the lines of an Irish John Wayne, given the tour title – but we trade cowboys for sheepherders [and we like it that way]. Let’s break down the top five fundamentals of what makes a Wild West Irish Tour a Wild West Irish Tour, shall we?

1. Authenticity

One of our top priorities is making sure you don’t experience a “tourist-y”’ tour. In the Land of Heart’s Desire; we try to stay true to our hearts: by connecting with locals and seeking out unique experiences. We speak with people who are immersed in Celtic folklore; those who know the area well and can tell us a thing or two new every time. There’s no big buses or long lines. We promise nothing but a good time: one that comes from a world that is both sincere and exciting; riddled with stories and, yes, occasional song. From the dust of the road on our boots to your first breaking of brown bread at a pub table, the genuine hospitality of Ireland is everywhere on our tours.

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Simone; local shaman and guide to Celtic pagan traditions. Photo by Wild Westie Ron Byers.

2. Spontaneity [& Flexibility!]

                It’s important to keep an open mind and a keen eye when on one of our Wild West Irish adventures – a sudden stop for sheep and a scenic view might be more likely than you think! There’s a vague structure [we do have some plans, after all] to keep our opportunities open. There might be a music festival in one of our townships that evening; or perhaps a special performance by a local dancer. You just never know, and that’s the beauty of being open to possibility. On another note: flexibility might just mean sunrise yoga [literal flexibility; anyone?] or weaving between the trees to discover a glittering waterfall…

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Trish O’Donnell-Jenkins shows us how it’s done!

OR BOTH!

We also tend to keep groups small [6-8] to further enhance that flexi-spontaneity, if you will.

               3. What’s Seldom is Wonderful

                One of our more popular monikers is a Gaelic phrase, “an rud is annamh is iontach” or, “what’s seldom is wonderful” [alternatively: “the thing that’s seldom is wonderful”]. The easiest way to explain this one is marveling at a rainbow. You know it wasn’t there a moment ago, and in another moment, it could be gone. As a result, a rainbow is seldom-seen; a rarity: and therefore, wonderful to behold in its brevity. We see much of these seldom moments in Ireland – the tranquility and aforementioned spontaneity allow for the world to show us incredible things, even for a moment. These “Irish Moments” are what can make the trip that much more unique.

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Michael Waugh & longtime friend [and Westie!] Brenda Kennedy-Hudler showing us all how to seize the moment.

                4. Expect Great Things in Simple Places

                Coupled with the previous sentiment, this one refers more to the simplicity of the rural Irish West; the countryside (and quaint towns) that tells tales of rolling agate hills and bountiful forests; twisting groves where fairies supposedly play and upturned stones left to keep watch over fields full of lively livestock patterned with ribbons or splashed with all the colors imaginable. Perhaps you’re visiting from a big city – you’ll find peace in this place where time moves differently, around excitable border collies or shockingly-patient donkeys. If you come from farm country, you’ll feel right at home among people who make little to no fuss about the urbane lifestyle.  And if you’re somewhere in-between [re: suburbia], don’t you worry. The balance here is evident, and the point of it all is that you’ll find that even the simplest of things can hold the greatest wonders [there’s a story to be told here, but you’ll have to hear it on one of our fine sojourns].

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Discovering a simple, yet special place with WWIT guide Pius Murray.

                5. Imagination

                Finally, we wouldn’t be writing to you from the literal Land of Heart’s Desire; the home of Yeats, Joyce, Wilde, and others without implying imagination and creativity. The world of Western Ireland thrums with music; pulses with poetry, sings with performance, but also provokes a reaction from any who visit. It gives back in ways you might not expect; prompting response to its calm emerald enclosures and rocky mountain hills. The folklore told by our guides might inspire you to see Sidhe peeking between the leaves of the trees, or prompt song at a tavern when asked [even if you might be a little spotlight-shy]. With the flexibility that allows for imaginative thought, anything is possible: we encourage each and every one of you to use your imagination in thinking about the Wild West of Ireland. It means something different to all who visit –

                I wonder what it might mean to you?

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Create your own story in seeing all there is to see…

I hope this has cleared a few things up – at least enough to see the rainbow from the rain!

Until next time, be well!

                                                                                                                                                                Sam Fishkind.