Postcards from the Emerald Isle ☘️

I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea that land doesn’t just exist; it remembers. Reading Seamus Heaney, especially “The Peninsula”, made that click in a personal way. The line, “When you have nothing more to say, just drive,” didn’t just feel poetic; it felt familiar. It reminded me of driving around after my grandfather passed away because I didn’t know how to sit still with the devastating news. Heaney’s landscapes carry layers of history in the bogs, the coastline, and the quiet rural roads. I started seeing land as something more. Something that stores emotion and memory. It made me think about when I was younger and sitting outside during Florida storms just to feel something bigger than whatever was happening in my life. My grandfather I lost was Irish and I’ll be visiting the country we came from on the anniversary of his passing (it worked out strangely that way), so this trip means more than I can put into words.

Another concept that really connected for me came from Kitty’s class when we talked about folklore, specifically the Tuatha Dé Danann, and Irish storytelling traditions. Learning how stories were passed down through song and oral tradition made me realize folklore isn’t just “old myths”; it’s cultural memory. When I looked at stories preserved in the National Folklore Collection for my research paper, I saw that belief actually shapes real behavior (like rerouting roads for fairy trees). The way the Tuatha Dé Danann were said to retreat into the land and become the Aos Sí made the landscape feel alive. A fairy tree isn’t powerful because of science; it’s powerful because generations agreed it mattered. Stories give land meaning, and land keeps the stories grounded. It made me realize how much identity is built through repetition; through songs, retellings, and shared belief.

I think traveling to Ireland is going to bring both of these ideas together in a way that feels lived instead of just discussed. Standing somewhere like Newgrange or walking past a lone hawthorn tree will probably hit differently now that I understand the layers behind them. I won’t just be seeing scenery; I’ll be seeing memory, myth, and identity woven into the land. I’m curious if I’ll instinctively slow down or feel more aware just knowing the stories attached to certain places. I also think just navigating daily life there, buses, accents, and music in pubs, will make me more aware of how our environment shapes who we are. These classes already helped me connect my own memories to what we’ve learned. I think Ireland will make that connection deeper, more embodied, and honestly more real. 🌿