Cork Walking Tour

Well now, there has been much water under the bridge since I left Cork, Ireland. We'll see what I can express of the walk-about I did one day while there; now that some of the details may have been softened with the passage of time. I will elicit the aid of my own picture collage and see what comes of it.

This visual aid is in no way to be considered my embracing those "worth a thousand words" dictums. Both are expressions both have their merits. In combination something different again.

As I recall on that day... weather conditions presented that were of themselves a irrefutable invitation. The one and only shoes I brought on this trip; a pair of hiking boots, had recently just undergone the "up-town funk" treatment in the form of new laces. I had my tattered Cork city map (which you may recall I had rendered ineffective previously). Why bring it along now? Why indeed...

I suppose, I might either become more adept at reading maps (by which I mean more specifically - I could then "apply what I see" - you know, like back in school - "can you use that it in a sentence now?" I imagine it is no small feat - the creation of maps; so my respect and appreciation to those that have given themselves to that craft! The details and general appearance hold a certain allure for me...
However, something happens between reading and walking, that of course cannot be attributed to the cartographer.

The other way it could go is, I develop a keener sense of guidance from within myself - so that along with some basic direction, I would then track to the intended destination. We'll put that in the "could happen.." category!!

I hadn't gone far from my hotel when I found some coins in the street. This "money in the street" thing, has been occurring quite regularly on my travels. Found a 5 Euro note on one occasion. On this day, as previous days I looked upon it as a reminder of an abundant universe!!

As I walked on a little further, I was stopped by a women on the street. She bade me a good morning, which I returned.... She then began apologetically to unfold a story about needing to get to Tipperary for the funeral of her mom... In the moment I had no idea of the distance to Tipperary - except from years working in seniors centres and being present at the "sing-a-longs" I'd heard it was "a long way..."

This trip of mine, represents to me minimally - as a heart journey! Expression, guidance and subsequent action from "this place.." at least for me, often (maybe always) does not look to existing dogma, social agreements, political or peer pressure (one and the same?) ....

This means to me such dictates as "enabling," blah, blah blah - even if applicable in a given situation can't be allowed to become the blanket response.

Do I "know" her story to be true or false? No. But by the time she finished ... I would say, it was a damn good story! Have you ever considered what it takes to approach a complete stranger and ask them for help? (financial or otherwise)

My day began, with my being completely present - in my heart and ready to greet the world accordingly.

Lilly was here name. I reached in my pocket and gave her a handful of coins (including those I just found)... we continued to talk, exchanged a hug and I was leaning into getting on my way, when apparently I wasn't finished. I offered something in the way of what I hoped would ease her shame and then fishing around I found a ten euro note and gave her that.. She began to sob, hugging me and telling me "what a gentleman I was..."

I won't miss that money.... at one time or another I have been the guy contributing to the money in the streets. I have no idea what she "might do with the money" - it's none of my business.

I will say that the night previous I had a dream, that as much as I remember, it had something to do with listening and talking to someone, which led to them getting, "off the bridge." Do I know, that these circumstances were related - I do not. I also don't know that they weren't.

How does anyone know, whether some one act of kindness - isn't what convinces someone else to hang on another day? Can I save everyone on the street, probably not. Is the answer to give money to everyone? Again, no. Moment to moment, situation to situation; this time yes, next time no..

In that moment Lilly was an angel; she helped me to connect with my heart and just give from there unconditionally. To recognize I'm no better than her because I have money in my pocket... We're just two people trying to get by in the world. Today she asked me for help and I said yes okay, here's what I can do. When we finished our conversation I just carried on my way, I presume Lilly did the same.

As I was walking away I remembered the "bridge dream." We weren't on a bridge. Perhaps a bridge had been built, perhaps the bridge had been a metaphor... I didn't actually "see" the person in the dream .. for all I know it could have been me. I don't fancy myself any "knight in shining armour," but my way of engaging with suffering in the world is undergoing change.  Mine, yours, that of others...

It seems to me, if not apparent, worthy of continued consideration that - I can't be "free from suffering" by ignoring it in others. There is far more "active part" necessary rather than attempting to insulate myself and whatever that might look like, and instead showing up in a connected manner with the human community. See I don't say "for," I'm not positioning myself as "the "great ...... hope." I am overtime being influenced by, and under going change to a different paradigm - one that recognizes interconnection. As such, "I" and "my" life don't operate in isolation or a vacuum.

Even if I can't change everyone's life, even if I didn't change Lilly's life - I know there is one life I can change ... mine. I can learn to find more compassion in my heart. I can try and be more understanding. I can learn to listen more and deepen that "listening." A short interaction. A listening ear and as it turned out a shoulder to briefly cry on. It truly "cost" me nothing. "What about the ten euro...? you might ask. Well frankly, coffee and whatever I might decide to eat would cost me more (neither of which I did without in the continued journey)....

For my meagre effort, I collected two hugs... with which to infuse my morning.  I wasn't "after" any.. but I can say, it can be true for me, that I go quite some considerable time with no hug.. never mind two inside the first ten minutes of walking out the door... This is not a "sob-story" - nor has this anything to do with sexuality. I'm just talking about a simple exchange of human love and assurance. Too much deficit I'm suggesting, isn't a particularly good thing.

So my journey continues across the river and through the city centre. I was attracted down a corridor by a particularly colourful wall which depicted, what I entitled the picture, "Art as art" murals of musicians performing. After the photo-op, I followed the lane and found myself in the middle of the "English Market." Billed with critical acclaim, by whomever rates these things (plaques adorning entrance way wall) - it's a cornucopia of carnage. I'm not a vegetarian, but I generally don't eat much meat. This place, I'm guessing, could potentially traumatize, an ardent vegan. Unlike other forms of "grocery" stores; that would have a meat department. The visual here, was awash with nothing but. It wasn't a place I cared to linger and "browse."

My envisioned destination was the University College of Cork (UCC) I was advised there was an very good collection of ancient stones carved with the Ogham. I wouldn't have even known to go look for them had a friend not told me about it. In light of that I decided, it's a beautiful day for a walk and given I had never seen them before and life went on - so if I don't find them today, the same truth applies.

No map - today I'm utilizing the GPS (General Possibility of Seeing). As I was easing on down the road I happened to see a mural I liked on the side of a van. In order to get the "shot" I wanted (listen to me .. all of sudden I'm Steven Spielberg) it meant occupying the middle of the road.. Soon there after it was determined the picture simply couldn't be abandoned. Which meant I was "that guy" scorned by locals throughout human civilization ("damn tourist"). I got and kept the picture - it was included in those posted, is it an exceptional visual - probably not. What then was the appeal? Well, it did have a flavour of that "devil - may - care" about it ... So this quest now assumes the energy of: "I may never see those stones (or the University that houses them) but I'm going to have a damn good time not seeing them, if that's the case!!

Walking a little further I happened to notice a sign that read, "Anam Cara" B&B as I had picked up another copy of that book, since being in Ireland clearly this was a "sign." Certainly no one could argue it wasn't, a sign. This was bound to lead me on the right path! My experience with street signs in town has been, I may start on the intended street and then through my attention then being firmly focused on everything else but... I continue down the street, however unbeknownst to me, the street I'm traveling on, has no longer continued along with me. Now I'm on a different street.

Within a couple of doors of the first "sign" was another that read "Serendipity" restaurant and cafe. Clearly this was where I was meant to verify that I would still have both food and coffee despite giving away money.

A delicious lunch was enjoyed within and an design motif in the restaurant provided a "teaching" regarding serendipity: "the lucky tendency to find interesting things by chance in a happy or beneficial way.." Maybe I'm on to something... I find things far more frequently this way than I ever do with a map (and sometimes it's even what I was originally looking for).

Exiting the restaurant visited upon a "skyline" view of an old Cathedral juxtaposed against some modernistic architecture. I order a coffee "to go." The moment it is passed my way the cup's imagery reminds me, that "signs" can be close at, in fact, in, my hand!

I continued on my way along the road that brought me to this urban oasis and began to see further signs with references to UCC. I must be getting "warmer." The minimal number of buildings and their size led me to believe they were remote campus annexes. Checking in with a fellow having a coffee break, verified this was so, and that the larger campus was just a little bit further.

Once arriving at the UCC campus I was immediately taken by the beauty of it, both natural and architecturally. I walked through the stone archway leading into the campus and stopped to take in the energy of the river meandering through nearby. As I wandered around I was delighted to find ample opportunity to appreciate the various green spaces and spend time, meeting some of the various elder trees around the campus.

I took in the exhibit at the art gallery. Across the board, I appreciate the passion and commitment any form of artist puts into their craft in order to develop it. Having said that, I don't always "get" what it is being expressed. This is not a criticism/judgement. It seems to me if "art" is somebody honest expression/perspective, then I ought to be afforded my honest expression - not to get it.

In this case, through various forms and references to food and digestion - the "theme" had to do with the emotional connection humans have with food as well as recognition/exploration of the intelligence present in the "gut"/ body and the connection/disconnection of same.

Without being an authority, I suppose art has always been afforded the opportunity to express outside of the mainstream consciousness. As such, perhaps the theme of this exhibit didn't necessarily represent any revolutionary ideas, but I felt heartened to see it in that particular evironment.

My exploration took me next to the campus chapel. Upon opening the door it was revealed, there was a service underway. I slipped in quietly and sat in the back row. I listened as someone, out of eye shot, was playing what sounded like an accordion. When the music finished a succession of young male students each came up to the microphone and offered a short prayer; each with a specific issue concerning the "state of the world," or the human condition.

Following these prayers the priest spoke briefly about how each of us, was a "unique" expression of the divine, and that; there was not another soul on earth that could do "what we're here to do, or do it the way we were innately able to do it. I don't attend church per say.... so given that, I have no real reason to say, I was surprised to hear "that message," in this particular venue/environment. It echoed pretty much word for word, the message I've heard or read from sources considered to be "non-religious." Some of those sources are often decidedly, anti-religion.

For me this is a rather important wake-up call/distinction to make for myself. As I said, I don't attend any church regularly. Though I do occasionally visit them to be "in the space" - generally when there is no service going on. I was "confirmed" in the Anglican Church. Attended elementary school at a Catholic school. So then, the question becomes for me: in what ways do I "throw out the baby with the bath water?"- judging negatively those that attend "mainstream" religious practices. Upholding my own "intolerance" and spiritual ego with the idea, I'm somehow better due to my particular affiliation. It is no secret that world wide, various "religions" have much to answer for.  Crimes against humanity, maybe even against the tenets of their own claimed source (if indeed that source held such a mindset).  The thing is, nothing that is happening "within the church" is not happening outside of it. The malady and unconsciousness is within humanity itself. As such, no matter where this humanity gathers and what name and "mission statement" they apply to themselves - unless there is some ongoing agreement and mechanism to identify and heal those within (themselves) and the collective - how could it not affect their presence in the world?

That message heard within the university chapel at that time, moved me to tears... Why?
Maybe I realized all of what I just said above and my part in it.... Maybe I really got, my unique God-given life and the impact of my time here now... to do what "I'm" here to do.... maybe my young self felt some healing to have acknowledged, uniqueness - here in the Catholic church (even though of my young Catholic school experience, I would not say, it was a birthing ground for uniqueness - unless given my stand for it now.... it was just that, in a "round-about" sort of way). Maybe it was all of this, maybe it was none of it.....

What the hell do I know about crying? I spent a great deal of my life ensuring I would not.... could not .......  What nuances of life were therefore denied? Whether in the receiving or the expression... I have more ready access to the "river of tears." I am more readily allowing that to not necessarily be a "private event." Does that mean I am now vastly fluent in the "language of the heart" and "emotionally open?" Well, it's all relative I suppose. You'd have to be familiar with being completely and absolutely numb to appreciate, that a resurrection of the ability to "feel" is a gift nothing short of a miracle. Just the same, at times, it's rather "inconvenient."

Given I have experienced tears in the presence of brilliance, grandeur, beauty, profound connection, divine love, grief, sadness, happiness - I'm sure the list could and will expand .... it tells me this is a vital way of experiencing life and that it is not necessarily a pathology nor an indication that something is "broken.." Perhaps I suffered more greatly for the lack of it's expression, than ever through, what I might be expressing, with it.

Yet is it seen as okay in any "congregation" to just be touched by the rapture of the moment and engage with that by crying? Sure it's widely accepted at funerals and to a lesser degree weddings etc. But would it really signify a "problem" if the whole room was in tears? (if of course that was "real for them")

Will I now attend church more frequently? To be honest, in this particular experience (which may have lasted all of 20 minutes) I heard exactly the message I needed ... I might add that previous to entering the chapel I saw a large banner on the side of building on the campus that read: "Great Minds Don't Think Alike - You belong to a tradition of Independent Thinking" stamped with the University's own logo etc. I for one would see it as amazing if "learning" institutions actually operated from this consciousness. I certainly saw it as positive that it was being expressed, even if "an ideal" and sign post to act as a continual "North Star."

As for me and church... the shortness of my experience is well suited for me. Alternative experiences inform me that I can engage longer, if I'm allowed to engage. If I'm meant to just sit and listen indefinitely... well .... before too long (in the case of the church) I would feel like taking the largest copy of that "good book" and smiting myself into unconsciousness with it. In truth if we were to choose to frame this as an "attention span" issue; why would I want to give my ongoing energy and attention to something that is not at all paying attention to what I need or that I even matter?

I guess that's where "the church" and I don't share the same view; at least some religions uphold the path of suffering as a path to virtue.. I believe that life can involve pain (and even suffering) and there can be a great many things derived through these circumstances. However, I don't believe that the "conditions" of suffering need to be "created" (i.e. hard seats, and kneelers and hours spent there, as part of the event, place of "worship," or colour and comprise one's ongoing life.

So far, the Vatican hasn't contacted me to consult on the structure of their services but if they do, I would say, they could be significantly shortened. There can be benefit (for me) in "passive" listening to a shorter presentation; but beyond a certain point, I believe active engagement and contribution are far more empowering. I will not dismiss or diminish the tradition, the rituals (particularly for those that hold them dear). I won't now enter into debate, whether it is the "intention" of the church to empower or disempower. I would say it is a "work in progress" along with the rest of humanity and it's various institutions. I only can only hope to discern what works for me and along the way - look toward less and less engaging in a paradigm of "black or white" - "all or nothing"- thinking.

I eventually made my way to the historic old building that held the collection of ancient stones carved with the Ogham (the ancient "alphabet"). It is housed in a cloistered hallway in the front of the building. Rooms and stairwells to the rest of the building are accessed once through to the other side. It's meant to be one of the largest collection of these stones in Ireland. Though there is the occasional person passing through the corridor; I am the only one there at the time, to pay any attention to the stones. I suppose for those that are there daily, if they had any interest initially the "novelty" has worn off. The stones do not inhabit the entire length of the corridor, however there is a section in which they form a parallel passageway. There they now stand, unearthed from their original place of occupation - arranged in lines like misplace sentinels. On one hand they are collected in one place for easy viewing. One other hand, though what do I know, of their original purpose? The efforts and meaning set into motion so very long ago, might well be compromised by this relocation? And not only that, but would leaving these sites intact (as much as they are upon rediscovery) would the "effort" and commitment to get to the sites not only honour their creation, but ensure those that have little or no interest in the sanctity/value - won't bother going there.

The rest of my time spent at the campus was really just wandering the grounds taking it all in the history, the architecture, the natural setting... whatever energy it is that I experience at such places (university campuses)  I love to wander and just soak it in. Not that I have been on that many different campuses. There's this one here in Cork, a little of one in Belfast, Ryerson in Toronto and University of Victoria. The latter seeing the lion's share. I have been there for various, presentations, short classes, discussions, some events as well and various groups through the "Multi-faith Chapel." UVIC happens to have lots of beautiful natural green spaces. I really appreciate the "buzz" around those places.. Notice boards are just jammed full of such a diversity of events. Predominantly it's a younger crowd brimming with enthusiasm and passion - it just really feels "alive," to me. If you spend anytime at all around some particular "work-a-day" environments where there are many embittered individuals that eventually manage to harmonize on similar sour notes - it would be easy to see why the campus is a preferable atmosphere. Of course this same jaded crowd would say of the students: "just wait, life will knock it out of them." Now it's fair to say life will invariably present challenges of one kind or another; but a steady diet of all these sour grapes is as it says in "Desiderata" - "avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit."

When I first came out of the art gallery I discovered my toque was missing. I had already misplaced it a few times on this trip but had so far managed to find it again. In fact, I frequently seemed to be having a challenge keeping tabs on my "stuff." I didn't come with a great amount (though in hindsight could have done with less of some stuff. Despite packing with the idea of not having to check a bag (which worked, depending on a given airlines policies), I only had the contents of two small bags. This phenomena was occurring while I was staying "alone" in various hotels - so it wasn't as though there was someone else to be moving stuff around. I'm generally pretty good at organization - however for whatever reason, it was going to hell in a hand-basket. Which come to think of it, would be an improvement, at least then, I would have known, it's in the hand basket!

Anyway, I traced my steps through the gallery and asked at reception if anyone had turned it in - no toque. I suppose overall I was being given the opportunity to let go of attachment. The first day I arrived in Ireland from Slovenia the bag that was required to be checked this time... may have checked in - but unlike Hotel California, it absence on the baggage conveyor indicated it could in fact - leave. All my really necessary stuff was in the small backpack that was serving as my "carry-on." It contained my money, credit cards, passport and both a fleece jacket and waterproof shell. Therefore what I was really missing, was all the toiletries and changes of clothes.

When I got to town, I bought a couple pairs of underwear and socks and then a long sleeved shirt from the thrift store. This I reasoned, would allow for me to be wearing one set of clothes while the others have been washed and are drying. Great I don't have to carry that other bag around now. That act of "surrender" was probably exactly what ensured the bag would come back, and it did. A voicemail I received from the airline indicated that they had it - it "showed" up not long after I left, they thought. There was a mystery lone bag left on the carousel, from the distance it was similar to mine, except it had a large logo on the side. I suspect someone realized my bag was not theirs and came back and swapped them after I left. Anyway, within twenty-four hours I had it all back - including the stuff I bought. I left some of the surplus clothing at the house I was staying at during my first ten days.

Possessing that particular toque was neither here nor there. Pragmatically it was still winter! Being a university I thought somewhere around here is a "student union" building or a book store where they sell all the school apparel. Once I found it,  I was the proud owner of a new toque with the team logo (UCC with skull and cross-bones).

I was vaguely aware of some other things I was interested in seeing and as far as I knew back tracking looking for the missing toque would have accomplished nothing but go against my own flow. So someone that day was about to acquire an imported Canadian "Roots" pseudo-nordic pattern toque; which I'm sure will be coveted, within their peer groups.

I decided to get on my way... as I had no idea how much walking I still had in store. I left the campus having down loaded the image from the "you are here" map onto my mental GPS (you already know where this is going) - once I left the campus I never saw anything of the street names from the "Cork City walk" map nor, were the details retained. However, I did find a lovely park! As one might expect of a park there was the requisite green space along with various sculptures, a stone circle (that I presume is circa 20th or 21st century). Across the park was the very pitch where the team that adorned my toque played. There were a few different sheltered benches which turned out to be fortunate; as no sooner did I lay eyes on one, than I needed it. The "Emerald Isle was about to get a booster shot, to ensure it's lush green complexion.

I sat out the worst of the squall, which lasted all of ten minutes and then continued to walk to the far side of the park. There I overheard a women speaking to her young companion (perhaps grandma and grandson) she was explaining to him about the rainbow - which was now forming overhead. I asked her the name of the place I had been exploring. She informed me that it was "Fitzgerald Park." I further verified that continuing across the river would put me back on the road which would lead me back into the "city centre."

I came to the suspension bridge that crossed the river. I stood at the entrance and just basked in the imagery of the upstream portion of the river. I was so tranquil. The light was weaving and dancing through the foliage along the banks reflected in the still water. Overhead it was a cosmic kaleidoscope presenting a ever-changing epic sky. One of countless I saw during my time in Ireland. The geometry of the bridge itself contributed ample eye candy and potential photo imagery. I walked across the bridge and found myself in a neighbourhood with many gated residences and and hilly streets. Weaving my way along in what I determined was "back to town" I came across a sign that directed to the historic Cork City Gaol. This was something I had in mind to see, but had thought might be "further out," in terms of time and energy. I found the old site and walked the front perimeter. An old sign out front indicated "Only Closed 5 days of the Year" Whether the sign was "serious," I was amused at the this, clearly being one of them. It was getting later in the day so maybe it was closed by now. I didn't make any inquires into whether there were tours; or seasonal opening, or anything of the sort, as I didn't think I was going to get there.

I was at this point still quite considerable distance and many hills away from my hotel. Each of the hills gave emphasis to this not being the day to not take an ibuprofen ... I have a reoccurring issue with one foot, that can become quite tender. The extended walking and now hills were giving it an ample pummelling.

The walk took me past a number of industrial sites and then the view opened up along one side of where I was walking. This provided an amazing panoramic perspective of the city and was back lighted by an jaw-dropping sunset sequence.

I stood taking this in and trying to capture it with my phone camera. I did manage to get a few photos using one of the cathedrals collection of spires, to add some shape and somehow give this epic sky, some containment.

My continued path took me to the intersection of the main road into the city center (which in turn crosses the road that my hotel was on) this was the same road, I began on, some many hours previously.

Not a bad day's trek for this mapless, compass illiterate explorer. Couldn't have done it better if I'd "planned it.."

Once back to the hotel it was then time for a "toes up" and some TLC for my foot; as soon enough, it would be time to escort myself to dinner.