After flood
The beauty of the heart
is the lasting beauty:
its lips give to drink
of the water of life.
Truly it is the water,
that which pours,
and the one who drinks.
All three become one when
your talisman is shattered.
That oneness you can't know
by reasoning.
-Rumi
We spent the last week touring round bits of Ireland. On Thursday we set off for the lakeland. Unlike the English version it isn't filled with breathtaking mountains and pools of water in between. No. Ireland's lakes are found in the middle of the country and is mostly flat, apart from the Drumlins - the land sculptured by glacial morraine. Scraped off and flat. In fact a few million years ago it was all lying at the bottom of some ocean, as the limestone karsts testify to. The result is some of the soggiest, wateriest and most undefined land you've ever been in. If you stepped n the wrong place, you'd end up wringing your socks dry. It's the Fens, but inland. Or it's the Fens that rn on for miles and miles and miles. It's pretty amazing.
We crossed several streams, rivers and wandered around the edges of lakes. On the Northern Half of the lakelands, things were mostly business as usual. Lovely little villages and houses that look as if they had been grown from the ground. On the southern side things were awful. The recession had run through the place, and left its mark like some disease. Houses stood empty - half completed houses, whole estates of holiday homes were being allowed to fall into ruin. People walked about with a haunted look on their faces. In Boyle, cafes and hotels were half cared for - apart from the single Bridgestone certified place. Still keeping the candle in the window burning. The persistent rain didn't make things any better. It was as if the tsunami of the change had come, swept over people and then retreated, leaving devastation in its wake, and everything covered with a film of grey. shops were boarded up, signs announced To Let or For Sale everywhere - and the places that were opened were charging prices that were so exorbitant that you wondered what the point of spending any money in them were. Cheap Made in China goods that had no workmanship in them at all were being passed off as local souviners. How different it all was threee years ago when someone remarked when they drove through Ireland they could tell when they left the South and arrived in the North: the people were just poorer looking. Or rather, there was a vibrancy in the South which the North had missed out on.
It turns out it was all a sham. Like fascias so beloved by those make over shows. Instead of building something genuine, they faked it all.
I don't know how long it will take for anyone or everyone to recover from what has taken place. Some parts of the landscape, like the species rich grasslands will never recover. This computer is so slow. i'm going to go now.
is the lasting beauty:
its lips give to drink
of the water of life.
Truly it is the water,
that which pours,
and the one who drinks.
All three become one when
your talisman is shattered.
That oneness you can't know
by reasoning.
-Rumi
We spent the last week touring round bits of Ireland. On Thursday we set off for the lakeland. Unlike the English version it isn't filled with breathtaking mountains and pools of water in between. No. Ireland's lakes are found in the middle of the country and is mostly flat, apart from the Drumlins - the land sculptured by glacial morraine. Scraped off and flat. In fact a few million years ago it was all lying at the bottom of some ocean, as the limestone karsts testify to. The result is some of the soggiest, wateriest and most undefined land you've ever been in. If you stepped n the wrong place, you'd end up wringing your socks dry. It's the Fens, but inland. Or it's the Fens that rn on for miles and miles and miles. It's pretty amazing.
We crossed several streams, rivers and wandered around the edges of lakes. On the Northern Half of the lakelands, things were mostly business as usual. Lovely little villages and houses that look as if they had been grown from the ground. On the southern side things were awful. The recession had run through the place, and left its mark like some disease. Houses stood empty - half completed houses, whole estates of holiday homes were being allowed to fall into ruin. People walked about with a haunted look on their faces. In Boyle, cafes and hotels were half cared for - apart from the single Bridgestone certified place. Still keeping the candle in the window burning. The persistent rain didn't make things any better. It was as if the tsunami of the change had come, swept over people and then retreated, leaving devastation in its wake, and everything covered with a film of grey. shops were boarded up, signs announced To Let or For Sale everywhere - and the places that were opened were charging prices that were so exorbitant that you wondered what the point of spending any money in them were. Cheap Made in China goods that had no workmanship in them at all were being passed off as local souviners. How different it all was threee years ago when someone remarked when they drove through Ireland they could tell when they left the South and arrived in the North: the people were just poorer looking. Or rather, there was a vibrancy in the South which the North had missed out on.
It turns out it was all a sham. Like fascias so beloved by those make over shows. Instead of building something genuine, they faked it all.
I don't know how long it will take for anyone or everyone to recover from what has taken place. Some parts of the landscape, like the species rich grasslands will never recover. This computer is so slow. i'm going to go now.
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