Stony Heart of Tyrone
I love Monteverdi. The actual composer and his music. It is both intricate and simple at the same time. Simple because it respects the silences that the delicate patterns and structures rely on. Like cut glass or Alhambra lattice work. It is music that lived in a time when that sort of peace was possible. Imagine living then, in the 16th century. When the only artificial sound was that of a human being playing an instrument or singing. No electronic beeps, children's toys, mobile phones, engines droning. The world as clear and beautiful and unmuddied as a still pool.
I know i'm idealising it, but i so long for that kind of peace, that solid silence which is organic, not unbreakable, but that weaves itself into the day, into life and gives the soul a place to rest, to tarry a while, and then to get up and walk on, refreshed.
I drove through the heart of Northern Ireland yesterday. Loughmacrory somewhere between Omagh, Cookstown and Dungannon, the stony heart of the Sperrins. It was all white, the snow lay on the fields and the trees were scratchings against the pale grey sky. Hedges were without leaf, and i didn't see very many birds. It is strange, i see far more birds in the city, a city, like Belfast. And in built up areas, like Strangford. But the old named Sperrins, nothing. Rooks and hooded crows, and then, nothing.
Carrickmore, the wee village before we headed into Loughmacrory, is something straight out of the 19th century. Modest and buttoned down, and tidy and neat, it could have stepped out of a movie set for a Friel play. The black and gold shopnames in capital serrifed typefaces, the solid respectable names of men and their sons, or named after their function - The Corner Shop, detailing the things that could be bought in there on the egg shell blue gable end - Action Men, Barbies, Prams, etc.
People standing and chatting, faces screwed against the cold and wrapped in bulky sensible overcoats, children shouting at each other as they walked home in groups of three or four, drivers and pedestrians who nod at each other as they pass.
It was such a relief to be there after the constant buzzing about Irish Robinson and the DUP scandal. It get away from the media and the hanging onto every word and every development. It gave a sense of perspective. I love going out to the wider countryside. Meeting the people there, talking to the kids about the birds. I love seeing parts of Northern Ireland i still haven't seen after 12 years, and discovering tiny jewels and listening to people's stories and enthusiasm for what they do.
I was walked around part of Loughmacrory by a very enthusiastic man and woman, who talked about what they were doing for the place. New paths around, birdboxes all over the place, the activities and how local residents used the area. The lough itself wasn't very large, but it was pretty and surrounded by the hills. It was about as far from the coast as it is possible to get in Northern Ireland and you could feel it.
I've just looked the place up on the internet, where nothing is never not known any longer and there were two RUC fatalities in Loughmacrory. It is such a small place with less than 300 people living there - i can't imagine the impact two deaths would have on the place. Of course it wouldn't be from the residents themselves, but to know someone was killed on your streets. It is staunchly Gealic though... sending a patrol in there must have been like going into some heart of darkness.
Think i might go for my run now and see how things pan out. The club opens at 6.30,might as well make the most of it while we still can. Membership expires in March.
I know i'm idealising it, but i so long for that kind of peace, that solid silence which is organic, not unbreakable, but that weaves itself into the day, into life and gives the soul a place to rest, to tarry a while, and then to get up and walk on, refreshed.
I drove through the heart of Northern Ireland yesterday. Loughmacrory somewhere between Omagh, Cookstown and Dungannon, the stony heart of the Sperrins. It was all white, the snow lay on the fields and the trees were scratchings against the pale grey sky. Hedges were without leaf, and i didn't see very many birds. It is strange, i see far more birds in the city, a city, like Belfast. And in built up areas, like Strangford. But the old named Sperrins, nothing. Rooks and hooded crows, and then, nothing.
Carrickmore, the wee village before we headed into Loughmacrory, is something straight out of the 19th century. Modest and buttoned down, and tidy and neat, it could have stepped out of a movie set for a Friel play. The black and gold shopnames in capital serrifed typefaces, the solid respectable names of men and their sons, or named after their function - The Corner Shop, detailing the things that could be bought in there on the egg shell blue gable end - Action Men, Barbies, Prams, etc.
People standing and chatting, faces screwed against the cold and wrapped in bulky sensible overcoats, children shouting at each other as they walked home in groups of three or four, drivers and pedestrians who nod at each other as they pass.
It was such a relief to be there after the constant buzzing about Irish Robinson and the DUP scandal. It get away from the media and the hanging onto every word and every development. It gave a sense of perspective. I love going out to the wider countryside. Meeting the people there, talking to the kids about the birds. I love seeing parts of Northern Ireland i still haven't seen after 12 years, and discovering tiny jewels and listening to people's stories and enthusiasm for what they do.
I was walked around part of Loughmacrory by a very enthusiastic man and woman, who talked about what they were doing for the place. New paths around, birdboxes all over the place, the activities and how local residents used the area. The lough itself wasn't very large, but it was pretty and surrounded by the hills. It was about as far from the coast as it is possible to get in Northern Ireland and you could feel it.
I've just looked the place up on the internet, where nothing is never not known any longer and there were two RUC fatalities in Loughmacrory. It is such a small place with less than 300 people living there - i can't imagine the impact two deaths would have on the place. Of course it wouldn't be from the residents themselves, but to know someone was killed on your streets. It is staunchly Gealic though... sending a patrol in there must have been like going into some heart of darkness.
Think i might go for my run now and see how things pan out. The club opens at 6.30,might as well make the most of it while we still can. Membership expires in March.
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