Today I went to an event called, “Growing A Global Heart” in support of Belvie Rooks and her vision and commitment to planting 1 million trees along the trans-atlantic slave route to plant healing for people and the planet. Belvie is an incredible human being. She has supported so many incredible individuals and organizations, and it was an incredible honor to show up to support her and her amazing and inspiring vision. While sitting listening to one amazing speaker after another, a poem came through me. I share it now in honor of Belvie Rooks and the profound vision of one million trees being planted and growing and thriving along the trans-atlantic slave route. It is a vision whose time has come.

“Sing Your Songs”

Sing your songs,
Children of the Earth…
You, whose voices
have been shut down,
silenced.

Sing your songs,
Children of the Earth…
You, who have lost hope,
given up on a world
that has given up on you.

Sing your songs,
Children of the Earth…
Sing the world awake
from its terrible slumber.
Sing the world
into healing,
re-weaving the threads
of a torn fabric.

Sing your songs,
Children of the Earth…
sing at the top of your lungs,
from the roof-tops
as we plant gardens
and dance rhythms
only you know…
inviting others to remember.

Sing your songs,
Children of the Earth…
Sing loudly,
Sing proudly.
Hold your heads high
and your hearts wide open.

Sing your songs,
Children of the Earth…
and teach us all to sing
the song…
of healing…

love,

julia butterfly hill November 1, 2009

A thousand butterflies
kiss the sky with their wings
as an offering
to the magic you are
in this moment

What would it be like
to live
with hearts wide open
as if before we knew
what it is to be hurt
disappointed and disillusioned

What would it be like
to hug and hold
as if before we knew
what it is to be hit
and hurt and shamed

What would it be like
to Love
with no limits
or borders or boundaries
as if we and the clouds are one
dancing in the sky
sailing into infinity

julia butterfly hill October 2009

Hello, Whoever You Are!
Funny—I feel like my blog might as well be a food blog for the amount of time I spend talking about eating and drinking. I just can’t help myself. I love good food and drinks. I especially love the experience of sharing a delicious meal with others—no matter if it is from a tin in the car to a fine dining restaurant. Good friends, good food, great memories.

I just had the exquisite pleasure of eating at Pure Food and Wine again in New York City. The first time I went was about three years ago and I was by myself. But this time I went with friends which made the experience all the more fabulous. Pure Food and Wine is all raw vegan goodness. The appetizers we shared were out of this world! My favorite was a nut cheese plate with rosemary crackers and blueberry spread. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. Truly, the best cheese I have ever had in my life—better than any cow, goat, or sheep cheese. My main course was a wild mushroom roulade with dehydrated herbed bread. I think out of the main courses, my friend Paul’s was the best. He had an enchilada that defies description. But the over-the-top, beyond belief, blow your mind magic was the mint sundae that all three of us shared. CAN NOT BELIEVE it was raw vegan! Eat your heart out Name Brand ice cream. You can’t even come close to this delightfully delicious decadence!

After a great meal and wonderful conversation, we hopped in a cab and went to the Yippie Museum where Mike Roselle was doing an event touring with his newly-released book, Tree Spiker, and his co-author, Josh Mahan. The event was a fundraiser for the work happening to end mountain top removal mining. Mike Roselle is a legend. He has been a tireless activist for close to 40 years. He co-founded Rainforest Action Network, Earth First!, and Ruckus Society, three of the most important activist groups of our time. It was an honor and a joy to happen to be in town to be able to show up and support him and the event.
Please buy his book TREE SPIKER—From Earth First! To Lowbagging: My Struggles in Radical Environmental Action. Written by Mike Roselle with Josh Mahan. Published by St. Martin’s Press. It is a great read!

As for mountain top removal mining—unfortunately we are seeing all too clearly that President Obama says he is for green jobs even though he keeps appointing dirty industry execs to high levels of leadership. Obama got LOTS of money from the coal industry. Hence, his way of trying to appease all sides was to talk about “clean coal.” As if there is such a thing. Go look at Kentucky; West Virginia; or Big Mountain, Arizona and it is all too clear that there is no such thing as clean coal. To me, Obama is looking more and more abysmal. I wish I could say I am surprised, but I am not. We know that by the time someone makes it to the White House, they have slept their way to the top—getting in bed with one major corporation and dirty and exploitative industry after another.

Damn, I wish we lived in a country where people took to the streets and didn’t go home until a massive shift occurred. It seems that part of our history is now a thing of the past. We like our comfort way too much. We like rationalizing our complicacy and pointing fingers in order to not be accountable for our own role in the mess. We like pontificating and attending conferences in order to feel enlightened and superior.

I wrote a poem while I was in Luna that has a line, “Wake UP! It is time for Revolution!” But we freak out from the term, “Revolution,” because it scares us. We think it only means blood and war. But what it really is about is us being willing to risk our comfort, break free of our addictions to comfort and consumerism in order to be free. We have traded freedom and justice for consumer, comfort addiction. Keep an addict addicted and you will control them. From a Joules Graves song, “What are you willing to do, for what you believe? Are you willing to get up and take a stand, or roll over and go back to sleep. On the rickety raft rides the refugee to brave the winds and the wild, wild sea. And risks it all to be free. And risks it all to be free.” We say we want freedom. But we are not willing to let go of our addictions in order to earn it. We suck on the pacifiers of cars, home mortgages, clothes, tv, shopping, and fear.

It is funny to look at the beginning of this blog with me talking about eating at a high-end restaurant and ending with rabble-rousing, get off our butts and DO SOMETHING! I have been unsettled lately. The urge for Freedom is stirring in my bones. I am tired of living in a culture that is so damn complacent—even so many of us who think we are not. I am usually the one who sticks it out. Who stays and fights. I have been knocked down time and again only to drag myself back up and stand again. My belief in humanity is waning. I think I would rather get eaten by a shark in the Ocean than this numbing stupor of a death called, “America.”

I find myself less and less interested in the USA. We have become profoundly uninteresting, boring, and obnoxious. And I do include myself—which is why I say, “we.” There is something stirring in me. Maybe, I will go make trouble. Maybe, I will just disappear. In many ways, the latter feels more effective these days.

These are the ramblings I type into my expensive, consumerist bought computer while travelling on a train. The irony is not lost on me.

That is all for now. Over and out from a torn between worlds view.
julia

OK. So no matter how good my intentions are, the reality check is that I am just not going to get around to covering my Italy trip. I am in New Jersey after having been in New York for a week and then headed back to New York after my Jersey trip. I had such a wonderful, amazing, awful, gut-wrenching, annoying, disgusting, fabulous, incredible, beautiful, magical trip in Italy, and the reality is that I don’t have it in me to power out all the details of that and keep up with where I am now. So… I am choosing to be here now. Which means, I am choosing not to go into the Italy trip even though there is so much to tell.

So, to be here now. I am visiting a dear friend in New Jersey. It is beautiful here. So many trees. And the leaves are just beginning to change color. I did a benefit last night in New York City for my friend’s Kavitha and Jeff and their organization Common Fire. The event was in a penthouse in an eco-tower in NYC. It had a beautiful view of the river and the crazy city and the sun-set and the moon-rise. It was a cage with a grand view. The wild animal that I am can’t help but feel completely alien in moments like that. A cage, even one made of gold, is still a cage. And yet, so many people do not experience places like New York City as a cage. Somehow, the animals that we are are so adaptable, that after being in cages for a long time, we recognize them as home and don’t feel comfortable outside of them. But the wild animal that I am cries out for space, silence, sunshine, trees, ocean, sky, moon. The wild animal that I am feels protective walls building up around me as a way to handle the onslaught of sensory overload. I need space to breathe. I need space to be. I need space.

I took a fun test with my friends, Sharon and Julie the other day. I had to answer questions by placing an “x” in the appropriate box in lines with letters associated. There was one and only one column, where I had an “x” in every single box in that column. The column was the letter “I.” When the test was done, I asked Sharon, “What does ‘I’ stand for?” She laughed and smiled her knowing smile and said, “It stands for ‘Introvert’.” But of course. The irony of my life is that somehow I feel compelled to share my life, my experiences, my learnings with people, even though, what I most long for is silence, alone time, to disappear.

So I sit here in a kitchen in New Jersey, writing bits of pieces of windows of my reality knowing that when left to my own devices, like a wild animal, I just disappear.

Here is to the silence, the breathing, the being, the heartbeat creating a cadence that each of us must follow.

Love,

julia

Hello Friends. I am about three weeks behind in writing, and am actually writing this while on a plane flying back to the US. Italy was such a whirlwind that I never seemed to be able to find the time and creative energy to write. My biggest challenege is that I always want to do justice to the experiences, places, and people, and because I know I want to write enough to try to accomplish this, I get overwhelmed and then end up writing nothing at all. Not the most brilliant plan, I know. So here is the next instillation.

Milena and I stayed in London for just one day before heading to Italy. For dinner (and of course food is one of my favorite things to talk about) I finally got to go to SAF, a vegan, predominantly raw foods restaurant created by a newer friend of mine, Chad Sarno. I met him about a year and a half ago when travelling through London with a former partner. At that time, SAF was still under construction, so it was lots of fun to come back and experience it now as a completed project. The restaurant is also designed with lots of attention and commitment to sustainability. They even have an outdoor herb garden and bar that is run with solar. The food was great, the drinks were beyond delicious, but what was even greater is that Chad just happened to be in town coincidentally as he had moved to America since last I saw him. It was so wonderful to share delicious food and wonderful conversation with Chad, Milena, and Pietro.

The next morning, Pietro—being the absolutely wonderful and generous human being that he is—took Milena and I to the airport and off we headed to Milan, Italy. We were to meet up with Alissa (Co-Director of Engage Network, Project Director for What’s Your Tree, former Executive Director of Cirlce of Life) a few hours after we arrived, so Milena and I went to a nearby park to have lunch and wait for Alissa to arrive from the U.S.

Alissa arrived a bit worn out, but ready for the adventure, and off we went to Madonna Di Campilgio. I fell asleep on part of the way there because whenever I am in a car for more than 15 minutes, I get sleepy. I think it has to do with my being raised traveling so much because if I fell asleep, time went by quicker, and I wouldn’t get into trouble—which was a seemingly constant issue for me. So now, put me in car for longer than 15 minutes, and I immediately start yawning and my head starts nodding as I feel almost drugged.

As we closed in on Modonna Di Campilglio, though, I awoke to beautiful nature all around. Huge mountains of granite and Dolomite were on either side, with the lower parts of the mountain covered in forests, a river flowed through the valley and the towns along the way, and each town seemed to be more picturesque than the one before.

I swear that much of Italy looks like a postcard or a movie set and this breathtaking place was no exception. We arrived at a gorgeous Eco-Hotel with rooms overlooking the mountains, and got settled into our rooms before meeting up with the organizers of the next day’s events. We had a lovely dinner with organizers Lory and sister Roberta, activist Giacomo and his wife, then headed off to bed for a busy next day. What an incrediblly beautiful place and absolutely delightful people!

Now on to Tippery County where we stopped to see a castle. But when we got there, Milena said, “No! This is not the castle I saw on the internet! I do not want to go in!” I jokingly told Milena she is a castle snob. I suggested we go on a walk and then have our lunch of salad in the park. On our walk we saw many very large, old oaks. It was great to see such huge and old trees in a country where so much of the old trees and forests have been destroyed. We also saw a few Yew trees which were considered Sacred to people in ancient times.

After our wonderful walk, we had a picnic in the park and then on to the Rock of Cashel. When we arrived, Milena said, “Si! This is what I saw! This is the Castle we go to!“ I am glad she is a castle snob as the Rock of Cashel definitely has a more colorful and interesting history then Cashir. It has buildings dating from the 12th century with everything from a complete round tower to a roofless abbey to the finest Romanesque chapel in all of Ireland. On this ‘Rock’ there was a Bishop who lived to be a 100 (most people during this era lived only into their 40’s) and was both a Catholic and Protestant (depending on whichever was most expedient in the moment) and had 3 wives and 27 children. Our guide jokingly said, “This leads me to believe that he was a Protestant from the waist up. And a Catholic from the waist down!” It is also on this rock that the now world-famous beer, Guiness, was first brewed by a kind of servant to this famous Bishop.

From the Rock of Cashel, we ended our day in Kilkenny. We had dinner at Cafè Sol, recommended by the Lonely Planet guide. We had a lovely dinner of Mediterranean salad and vegetable fajitas. We walked back to our hotel room, but after hours of not being able to sleep, we went out for a walk about town. It was a little after midnight and the place was a ghost town. There was only one pub open, but it had live music in it that was rock music and so loud, we could barely hear each other standing right next to each other and screaming. We immediately walked out, trekked some more around the completely closed down town, and then went back to our hotel.

The next morning, we headed on to our final stop, Wicklow. It was another rainy day, so we drove straight through to Wicklow because there was nothing along the way that really called to us. We were very excited, though, because there was an Organic store and restaurant about 15 kilometers outside of Wicklow town where we headed to have a late lunch. We got to where it was supposed to be, though, and it was not there. We stopped at a gas station and asked if they knew where the place was. The woman attendant told us that yes, indeed, that place had been there, but had been closed for three years. Disappointed, we headed back to Wicklow, where we then went to another restaurant recommended by the Lonely Planet Guide. And wouldn’t you know it—another casualty of the economic downturn—it too was closed down, although very recently.

We had passed by a health food store on the way looking for the restaurant, so I told Milena we should just walk there and ask them where to eat as they would know of the best place in town for people like us. On the window as we were walking in to the store, I saw a sign for Healthy Habits Cafe. We went inside, bought a few items and asked the young woman working there how to find the cafe. She was very helpful, but we got lost anyway. After stopping again and asking directions, we finally found the cafe tucked back in an industrial zone. It turns out it is in this area because not only is it a cafe, it is also a business and Monastery for the Servants of Love community. These are a very interesting group of people who follow the tradition of the Roman Catholic church, live a monastic celibate life, and also practice meditation, yoga, and other spiritual practices. And as it turns out, the Healthy Habits cafe is the first and only raw food restaurant in all of Ireland. And their food was great! We had delicious fresh pressed juices followed by a warm soup of dulse, avocado, red peppers, and herbs followed by an Italian vegetable wrap with a delicious dehydrated herbed tortilla. We walked back to our car happy with our find.

We went to the B&B where we were staying and checked in right as the rain began to fall. After doing some work, we laid in our beds listening to the rain fall. I told Milena, I would check with the proprietor of the place to see if we could use their kitchen to make our own dinner that eve as the Healthy Habits Cafe was now closed for the evening, and we had little hope of finding another place for us to eat. It turned out that because we were staying in someone’s home, that was also a B&B, the kitchen was not available for us to use as the family who lived there would be using it for their evening meal.

So now we had to figure out another plan. Milena was flipping through the guide book looking for what we should do. Everything said how beautiful the mountains were here, but the reality was it was raining and foggy, and the thought of getting back in the car just to drive around and not be able to really see anything was just not appealing to me. So being the enlightened person that I am, I said, “Miwe, how about we just go to town and get drunk!” Milena started laughing and said, “Yes!” Of course I didn’t really mean get drunk because I don’t like being drunk, but I figured that what better way to celebrate our last evening in Ireland (if we could not have any more great nature or ancient tradition experiences) than go pub hopping and salute our journey. And that is exactly what we did.

First, I went online and found a restaurant that sounded like we could find good food (because in case you can’t tell by now, good food is very important to me!) Then, we proceeded to walk down the main street of Wicklow Town and stop in each pub and have one drink. After three pubs and three drinks, we decided it would be a good idea to put some food into our bellies, so off we headed to Casa Pepe, an Italian Ristorante. And surprisingly, it was very good! It was a surprise to have good Italian in Ireland. We had a great soup, salad, and pizza and little bit of wine. As we left the restaurant, the weather and even the sky had cleared, so we went for a walk to the sea’s edge.

It was so perfect because it was the first time we had been at the coast of Ireland and had clear sky and weather. It was very, very windy, but so crisp and clear, alive and vibrant! We walked along the pier, then back, and on to an old castle that was now just some crumbling walls. The sky was beautiful and stars began to appear as then the moon began to rise. Then, the lighthouse at the end of the pier lit up. It was such a perfect way to complete our trip. We walked back, stopping at a couple more pubs to cheer our wonderful trip and experience.

We left the next morning, drove back to Dublin, dropped of our car, boarded a plane and headed back to London. Even though I am just now completing my writing of the experience of Ireland—days since we were there—it is so alive within me. I loved the land, I loved the people, I loved the stories, the places, the rain and wind, I loved the pubs, the music, and the Irish brogue. And I even loved the things that didn’t work out because somehow it all led to exactly the perfect experience. I carry Ireland with me now—all these years later, after hearing the call when I was in high school and knowing that I wanted someday to be able to walk the land of this place and feel it not only from a book, but first-hand. I am touched, moved, shaped by this journey. And I am deeply and profoundly grateful.

“An Irish Blessing”

Wishing you a rainbow
For sunlight after showers—
Miles and miles of Irish smiles
For golden happy hours—
Shamrocks at your doorway
For luck and laughter too,
And a host of friends that never ends
Each day your whole life through!

From visiting with new friends, we went to the Phoenix Organic B&B on a road in between nowhere and then some. It is a very interesting blast into the past and feels much more like a hostel than a B&B. The walls and all available surfaces are covered with eclectic items from Lorna’s (one of the owners along with her husband) travels from all over the world, but a definite Indian influence for sure. We checked in and laid down on our very uncomfortable beds. Then, we thought, we would have dinner early and went back downstairs and had salads, coconut curried vegetables and rice, and a bottle of wine. It was nice to be able to eat and drink organic, with the vegetables being local as well. We brought Lorna our very wet and muddy clothes as she had offered to wash them for us. Afterwards, we went back to our room, where I spent the night mostly tossing and turning trying to find a way to sleep that didn’t hurt my back. The next morning we had tea, toast, and juice and headed out for our next adventure.

Our first stop was to drop off the washed laundry to be dried in a town about 15 kilometers away as the normal way of drying outside was not going to work with so much rain. In Ireland, many people hang their clothes outside to dry, but literally run in and out bringing the clothes on the line and off whenever there are moments of no rain and it usually takes at least two full days for clothes to dry which we did not have time for. Then from there we went to the Organic Store (it’s actual name) in Milltown. The coolest thing ever about this store was that it was in an old church! It is quite possibly the best use of a church for me that I have ever seen. It was wonderfully stocked with quite a bit of local produce as well as organic produce from further away, and to top it off, the most divine coconut, chocolate bars! In Ireland there are so many old churches and buildings that some end up getting used for other things. In Dublin, I had seen an old fort turned into 6 dance clubs, and now here, an old church turned into an organic store. What an interesting mix of the old and the new.

We, then, went around the Ring of Kerry, following the Ocean and through mountains, and finally through Killarney National Park. Of course, there was the ever-present fog and rain with scattered sun. We stopped along the Atlantic Ocean, dipped our feet into the very cold water and then walked along the beach. I found a green stone in the shape of a heart on the beach which was such a great treasure to find! Killarney National Park is beautiful. It has ancient Oakwoods, beautiful lakes, huge mountains (for Ireland) and grand vistas. It, also, has one of the last wild herds of native Red Deer, but in my journey, I never saw one. Nevertheless, it made me happy to know they are there and protected. We walked a trail up to and past the Torc waterfall. It was beautiful but lots of tourists and lots of trash. I picked up quite a bit of trash, but it was everywhere, and there was no receptacles to put it in around the area, so we packed it out. From there, we went and picked up our now dried laundry, and then headed back to the Organic Store because we ate all the delicious produce for lunch, and I realized I wanted to go back and get enough to make lunch for the next day. Plus, the coconut chocolate bars were calling my name! I swear I could hear them, and who am I to resist delicious, organic coconut chocolate bars?

Before heading back to the Phoenix Organic B&B, we stopped in Killarney for dinner. We went to the restaurant Stone Chat that was recommended in the Lonely Planet Guide for having some good vegetarian options, and it is right! When we walked in, we realized that their vegaetarian options were more for lunch and they didn’t have many options for dinner. We asked the waitress who came up to us if she thought they could make something for us. She was very friendly and said that she felt they could totally accomodate us, but she just wanted to check with the chef and make sure. She returned saying the chef was very happy to make us a vegan dinner. She then proceeded to make recommendations for us which sounded good to us, so we said yes. It turned our her recommendations and the chef’s cooking were both superb. The vegetables were cooked perfectly, the seasoning as well. They were so happy to help us and, we were so thrilled and appreciative with the results. From the delicious dinner, we headed back to Dingle Peninsula to the B&B. As had been the case for numerous nights, I could not sleep, so I eventually gave up and went downstairs to see if they had anything out that I could munch on to hopefully help me sleep. I have learned that sometimes when I can’t sleep, if I have a bite to eat, particularly something with protein, I can oftentimes fall asleep. It was very late, and yet when I went downstairs, Lorna was up, and I told her about my predicament. She was incredibly kind and helpful and got me some homemade spelt bread with tahini. We then stayed up chatting for quite a while which was quite lovely. Then she shared a wonderful story with me that she had written about her life which was fascinating. She has traveled all over the world, studying dance, exploring, and then brought all she has learned to her life with her family in what is now the Phoenix Organic. It started out as a place she and her husband bought, where they lived out of a trailer and a small wooden caravan for years while they fixed up the old barn on the land and started an organic garden. Then, they moved into the barn and started a cafe to help ends meet. The cafe was such a success and friends from afar started coming and spending the night that they were convinced to start a B&B and the Phoenix Organic was born from the ashes of a former dilapidated piece of land and barn. We awoke the next morning, had a delicious breakfast, and headed on our way to Kilkenny, our bellies full of yummy organic goodness and our hearts full of joy.

A short distance away from Maeve’s Cairn is the Megalithic Cemetery of Carrowmore. It is the largest Stone Age cemetery in Ireland and the second biggest in all of Europe. I asked Milena to stop since we were nearby. As we pulled into the area, I began to put my wet clothes back on which was a very cold and slightly difficult task, considering that the clothes were so wet, putting them back on was a challenging affair. Milena looked at me and said, “Oh, no! Really?! We have to put our wet clothes on again?!” I told her she could stay in the car, but since we were here, I was going out to see this place. She told me, “This morning I was praying, asking to wake up. Well, now I am awake! I guess we have to be careful what we pray for! It is a good thing you made me that salad or is there no way I would be going back out in this!” So she wriggled back into her wet clothes as well and out we went into the cold and rain again. We traipsed around for a bit to get a sense of this place where there is no exact knowledge of how old it is, but it is guessed to be possibly up to 700 years older than the Cairns at Newgrange, Knowth, and Dowth. There are about 60 rings of stones in all, but sadly, many of the stones have been destroyed over the years, so one walks amidst the circles imagining what this place must have once been like so long ago.

We headed back to the car, jumped back into our dry clothes and headed on our way to Doolin in County Clare to stay at Cullinan’s Bed and Breakfast which had been recommended by friends. We stopped along the way in a small village when we saw signs for a local artisans craft’s fair. Inside were wonderful crafts of felting, painted glass, jewelry, wood turning, and handmade soaps. In the corner, a guy about my age was carving spoons by hand out of wood from fallen pieces from all kinds of trees. In front of him was a table with various things he had carved by hand. A young boy was sitting on a stool in front of him and they were chatting and laughing as I walked up. The guy carving said, “Would you like to learn to carve? This is a free workshop. Only thing is, you need your own knife.” I told him I was just visiting, traveling through, but thanked him for the invitation. Then, I noticed he was carving in the direction towards his hand instead of away from it (which is how you are supposed to do it if you are being safe.) I asked him, “Just out of curiosity, aren’t you carving in the wrong direction? Isn’t that the way you are NOT supposed to carve for safety reasons?” He smiled and said, “Absolutely, you are very correct. I am showing here how NOT to carve! And ask the young lad here, if I had not already told him that this is the improper way to do it. Right lad? Right! Alright then!” And the young boy laughed and nodded his head enthusiastically. It was so sweet to watch them together. I could tell the young boy really admired the guy, and the guy was totally making him feel included and very special and important. It was so sweet to watch and experience. It reminded me how beautiful and important community and mentorship is. Then, we had a wonderful chat with lots of joke and laughter, so of course, I chose to buy a spoon from him. I mean, how could I a pass up the opportunity to support the local artist, making beautiful things from fallen wood, and with such a wonderful energy and great sense of humor?

We arrived in Doolin, checked in and went for a walk about town as the weather was nice and the area was beautiful. Of course, as we were still a ways away from where we were staying, it began to rain hard with strong winds. Getting us wet yet again… but of course.

There were almost no food options for us here, so we ate at a pizzeria that ended up being surprisingly fabulous! We added our garlic infused olive oil and spices to the pizza making it even better… but of course. We had pulled out our to-go-ware utensils to eat the pizza with since the place only had disposables, and I felt the people at the table next to us giving us furtive glances as we had a table piled with our own oil and spices and now we were using these very strange utensils. I overheard the young girl of the family say, “They are using wooden forks!” I smiled, turning to them, and said, “These are made of bamboo.” The mother asked, “Do you bring them with you all the time?” I smiled and laughed and said, “Oh, yes, these, the oil, the spices…you know just the essentials!” The family all laughed and smiled as we all enjoyed our meal.

That evening we went to the corner pub, Fitzpatrick’s to listen to some traditional Irish and folk music. It was a nice pub, simple, and fun music. Various people talked to us, asking us where were from, etc… I met a nice and interesting man Phillipe from Brittany who was shocked that I am 35 years old and not married or have children. I am SO glad that is not my life! We butterflies, we love our freedom, and on top of that, I have zero desire to contribute to the further destruction of the Earth through birthing children into an already overpopulated world. I would rather take care of the children who are already here and take care of the planet we call home.

We started the next morning with a breakfast of juice and herbed potatoes then headed on to the Cliffs of Moher. The Cliffs of Moher are a very famous tourist stop, but luckily for us, there were not too many people so we were able to enjoy the beauty of the place. Rolling hills give way to sheer drop cliffs. Some of the cliffs are dark jagged rocks only, while others have lush green life interspersed in the crevices with birds soaring on the thermals all around. It is a beautiful spot even if some of its magic has disappeared because of the tourist element as with Knowth. I guess sometimes we have to trade protection of a place with a certain sterilization of it as well.

Nevertheless, it was a great way to start the day…and of course it rained on us again, causing Milena to want to end early, but I reminded her, “This is Ireland, Miwe (my name for her,) you might as well get used to being wet.” “OK. You are right,” she said, so we finished walking around the cliffs and taking some funny and beautiful photos.

Then we headed off to visit the family of our dear friends from Humboldt County, one of whom was born and raised in Limerick County in Ireland. We stopped along the way in a quite lovely town called Adare. The sun had chosen to shine at this time, and the town was bursting with flowers of all varieties. It was bustling with tourists and shopkeepers, yet it still retained a quaint beauty and charm that is so often lost in tourist stops.

We had an absolutely wonderful time visiting with the family in Rathkeale, laughing and sharing stories, tea, and coffee. Out of respect for their privacy, I will leave their names out, but I will say we had such a wonderful visit that at beginning, we were friends of family in the US, but left feeling almost like family ourselves. They were so warm, interesting, and funny that we were made to feel instantly at home. What we thought was going to be a short visit turned into a few hours because we were enjoying one another’s company so much. I am so thankful to have met and spent time with such fantastic people.

This trip continues to be one of wonder, beauty, fun, laughter, and the magical possibility that happens when we give ourselves over to the journey.

One of my favorites signs I have ever seen is on the side of a barn in Mendocino County near Laytonville where some of my chosen family lives. It reads, “Don’t Forget The MAGIC!”

Love,

julia

From the hills of Tara we headed to Galway. By the time we arrived, we were both completely exhausted. The hotel we were staying in was lovely, but wouldn’t you know it the restaurant was completely booked, so we had to eat in the Bar area which had bar food menu and different chef and kitchen. We were so exhausted that the thought of driving back into town to try to find a restaurant where we would have any luck finding decent food was more than we could take, so we stayed in the bar and had some of the very worst food we have ever eaten. Of course, knowing we were coming to Ireland after all, so far we had actually been pretty lucky in the food department. But this night was the epitome of, “Oh, yes, not everyone actually knows what good food actually tastes like” because this chef obviously had a different version of good food than we have. They were truly very nice and really wanted to help us which was quite kind, but in the words of Milena’s brother Pietro (who happens to be a wonderful cook and co-owns a great restaurant in Notting Hill, London) this meal was “A DISASTER DARLING!” Luckily for us, they made up for it with finding us a decent tasting and cheap bottle of wine of which we drank two so as to forget the dinner’s taste.

The next day, I told Milena (who was dealing with a wee bit of a hangover and was trying very hard to wake up) to drive us by the grocery store in town, so we could get things to make a salad for our day (having been inspired by the food the night before.) We were very lucky to not only find a few salad things, but also found an organic mix of ground flax, pumpkin, and sesame seeds; some tofu; and some garlic-infused olive oil! Now, we were once again happy travelers. Off on our next adventure we went. We headed off to Maeve’s Cairn in Sligo County.

And once again, we found that there were no signs helping us find our way. In the Lonely Planet Guide, Maeve’s Cairn is called Knocknarea Cairn because that is also what it is called in Ireland. Only those who have studied the ancient stories would know it as Maeve’s Cairn. It is believed that here was buried the very powerful and important Queen Maeve who ruled like a King, and who was called into being in the lineage of the ancient Goddess Maeve.

In the Lonely Planet Guide, it says that you leave the town of Sligo headed towards Carrowmore and then follow the signs. Only problem… there were no signs. We drove around for a while before pulling into a gas station to see if someone could help us. I had to ask three people before I found someone who had even heard of Knocknarea, and it is only a few kilometers away. Once again, it shows how effectively anything that has to do with the Pagans—and especially having nothing to do with Churches, Abbeys, or Castles—has been disappeared. So with semi-understandable directions, we head off on our way. And again, as we close in, we find, there are still no signs at all for Knocknarea. Luckily, with the bits of information I was able to piece together from the Lonely Planet Guide, along with following my intuition, we weaved our way through back roads until finally there was one—count them one, not two, not three, but one—sign to Knocknarea. A little further down the winding road we find a non-descript parking area off to the side and pull over in the midst of rain that is beginning to come down rather hard. We look at each other and smile. I ask Milena, “Ready?” “Ready,” she says. We put on our rain jackets, pull out our umbrellas, and step out into the wet and cold.

As we prepare to head up a rocky path, up a rather large hill (the Lonely Planet Guide had warned us it is about a 45 minute trek uphill) a car full of elder ladies pulls up, and one leans out and asks if it is passable. I told her by foot but not by car. She replied, “The woman back aways told us, that it is like a river in places, and you need Wellies if you are to walk it.” I replied, “Well, we have no Wellies, but we are going to go for it anyway.” The woman looked worried and rolled up her window. We never did see those women again. I think the thought for them of trekking up the hill through mud, muck, pouring rain, and sopping feet was a bit more than they had bargained for. But Milena and I, we knew we had to at least give it a try, and so up we started.

It was very funny for me to be using an umbrella while hiking, but as my whole life is in disarray in a storage unit in the East Bay of San Francisco, California, I could not find my wonderful heavy-duty rain jacket and pants, so I had to rely on my umbrella and the kindness of Milena’s family for the jacket I was wearing which is made for traveling about town with an umbrella and not for hiking up a rather steep hill with rain pummeling. But, nevertheless, up we started umbrellas and all.

Water was indeed cascading down the rocky trail, in some places pooling up so deep that we had to tip-toe across, balancing on rocks, hoping not to slip and fall in to the deeper water. The trail was bordered by cows, sheep, and blackberry bushes—all of which seem a vital part of the Ireland landscape. Along the way we found a few berries ripe enough to eat which we promptly did, and to the cows and sheep giving us the wary eye, we told them they did not need to fear us, as being vegans, we had zero desire to eat them.

Also, along the way, sadly, there was a lot of litter, so doing as I always do, I started to pick it up, shoving it into various pockets. It broke my heart to see how much trash was along this trail. How is it, that people can be so disrespectful, disgusting, and dirty? I would think that at some point I would become numb to this, and often times I wish I was, but it never ceases to impact me how profoundly disconnected we are as a species. So, I pick up each piece, large and small, as an offering of gratitude to Maeve.

The rain only intensified as we hike, as did the wind the higher we climb. After about 15 minutes, I realize that my lower back is soaking wet and my pants are getting increasingly heavy as they too soak up water and begin to sag down (ah, yes, this is why one is supposed to wear a belt.) After about another 15 minutes, I completely give up on my feet as well, as every step squishes and oozes water. By this point, Milena’s umbrella has started flipping inside out frequently from the gusting winds. And then, somewhere about this time, an Irishman in shorts, running shoes, and listening to music in his earphones comes running down the hill. Running! This trail is rocky, very uneven, and very wet, and he’s using it for exercise! Oh, how funny, the juxtapositions of worlds can be.

Interestingly, from the bottom of the hill, you can not actually see the top, and every time, I got to the point on the hill where I thought surely we must be close to the top, there would be another ledge and more to climb. I am not good with steep climbs because of my hip problems and my lungs, and now I have added to that healing from surgery on both of my feet. Increasingly, I was laughing inside, knowing that this was indeed a pilgrimage, and it reminded me quite a bit of my hike to Luna—only without all the weight in a pack on my back. I also loved how the weather had gotten increasingly more intense on our journey into the past of Knowth, then Tara, and now Maeve. It seemed so fitting somehow.

Finally, short of breath and very wet, we crest the top of the mountain to see the HUGE rock cairn growing in front of us as we neared it. Maeve’s Cairn! And then, around it, we see the rock formations of other burial sites as well. At the top, the wind really whips! And it grows as we begin to circle the stone mound picking up even more trash caught and shoved within the rocks. We look out and can see for miles upon miles, kilometers upon kilometers in every direction. The view is possibly more breathtaking than the wind!

I am in awe. The deep silence that permeated me in Tara returns and deepens. Again, I feel profound power washing over me, humbling me. I slowly walk around the cairn allowing it all to seep in, stopping on occasion to place my hand on a stone, close my eyes, and feel myself transported back thousands and thousands of years. There are more paths leading up to the very top of the Cairn, but for whatever reasons, it felt disrespectful to me to climb up on the top—something about it seemed like that is the human thing—to want to conquer, to say look what I did. For me, I wanted to allow Maeve her grandness—her right to be held in esteem. Milena and I walked among some of the other paths at the top of the hill and then prepared to head back down. I returned to Maeve’s Cairn for one final moment. I walked up to the stones, knelt down, placed my hands on the rocks and began to pray. As I did, the tears that had been at the back of my eyes for the last two days spilled over melding with the rain. My whole life, I have longed for and searched out strong, powerful women to have as role models. My whole life, I have hungered to know of and experience the traditions that hold women as equally powerful and important as men. I have hungered to know of and experience the traditions that believe in and honor the Divine Feminine. And I here, I finally am, touching, feeling, and experiencing that of which my heart and soul have cried out for so long.

I know for some it would seem very funny that a pile of rocks could touch me so deeply, but it did. As I headed back down the mountain, the wind and rain were whipping even more. Milena’s umbrella had basically given up at this point, so I folded mine down to be in solidarity with her. And besides, by this point, the only thing thing my umbrella was still keeping dry was my face and shoulders. I started laughing and told Milena how appropriate it seemed to me that the Queen and Goddess would be so unruly! I thought to myself of the saying, “Well behaved women rarely make history.” Ah, yes, in order to claim Her-story in the patriarchal dominant histories, a lady must indeed be unruly and wild! And then, laughing even harder, I told Milena that it felt like we were being baptized by the Goddess!

As we hiked back down the hill, I continued on telling the story of how when I was about 8 years old, my father baptized me in a pond in Lewisberry, Pennsylvania. And how, many years later, when I was in my twenty’s or so, my Mom and I had an interesting conversation about that day. My Mom said, “But Julia, you took many classes about Baptism in Church before you decided to get baptized. You got baptized by your own free will. I responded to her, “Well, Mom, I chose to get baptized because all I had been taught was the Christian traditions and beliefs, so in the very small world view that I had, it absolutely made sense to get baptized. You never taught me or exposed me to anything but Christianity.” I went on to tell her that, “Had I known then, what I know now, I wouldn’t have gotten baptized that day, I just would have gone swimming!|” But now, as I slipped and skipped my way back down the hill of Maeve’s Cairn, this—now this—felt like the kind of Baptism that I could definitely relate to and was definitely choosing of my own free will having a much bigger world view.

As we were hiking down, I looked back every so often to see Maeve’s Cairn receding behind the dips in the hill until it completely disappeared from site. It is indeed a magical place—one you have to be committed to seeing—with all of your senses.

We return to the car and strip off our soaking wet clothes, and wriggling into dry ones, laugh and exclaim over yet another amazing experience we have just had. I pull out the ingredients for the salad and prepare it in my stainless steel tin, using my to-go-ware utensils. It is one of the best salads either one of us have ever eaten—and not because of the ingredients—but because of the journey, the pilgrimage, the shift in our beings.

I went up that hill one way, I came down another. Thank you Maeve, the Queen, the Goddess, for the Baptism, for the journey, for the experience. Another profoundly transformational experience in my life.

The journey is always as important as the destination. Since the journey, in the moment, is all we have, in the moment, the journey is even more important than the destination. Reaching the top of Maeve’s Cairn, descending again, dealing with the steepness, the wind, and the rain—all of these are really part of the longer journey called my life. None of us truly know what the destination is. But it is in moments like these, that I remember yet again, how deeply and humbly grateful I am to get to be on this journey.

Love and Gratitude,

julia