In the Shelter

For two weeks in December we had the opportunity to volunteer with the Corrymeela Community in Ballycastle along the beautiful Antrim Coast.

Corrymeela was started by a small group of people who believed in creating a hospitality space where the work of reconciliation could occur. In 1965, this group managed to scramble together the money needed to buy a large, out-of-repair, old white house and property overlooking the ocean just outside of Ballycastle.

Today, the property is home to a small village with about eight buildings on site. During the working day, Corrymeela staff work at maintaining the property, searching for grants, running programming, and visiting with various guests at the Centre. Often, a community member will show up to volunteer or help run a program that they have taken part in planning. 24/7, a small group of people consisting of long term volunteers and interns from all over the world, and the occasional staff or community member, form the "lived community" onsite, dedicating their entire lives for a time to the work of learning to live together, which is what Corrymeela is all about. Long term volunteers work in all areas of the larger community's activity and, with staff support, "run group sessions using dialogue, experiential play, art, storytelling, mealtimes and shared community to help groups embrace difference and learn how to have difficult conversations".



Like any community, Corrymeela has its work cut out for it, and there are many ways in which it can grow and change to better realize its mission. It has its own hypocrisies and is not perfect, but during our visit we experienced a loving group of people who begin everything "with a welcome." Corrymeela people are people whose hearts and heads embrace continued discovery and examination of "the fractures in our world" while welcoming all on a journey to discover how best to live together. One of the many learnings from our visit that we are taking with us into 2016 is the Irish saying that Pádraig Ó Tuama, the community leader, is quite fond of:

"Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireas na daoine. ~ It is in the shelter of each other that the people live."

While up north, we enjoyed several days of rest from our tasks with the community and managed to visit the Giant's Causeway, only 30 km away, and explore the stunning coastline along Fairhead near Corrymeela.



The legends of the causeway speak of Oona McCool. According to legend, Oona was more cunning and wise than her well-known husband, the giant and Irish Warrior Folk Hero, Finn McCool. She understood the saying, "Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireas na daoine," and embraced the same principals of non-violent creativity and storytelling that Corrymeela now uses to help groups have difficult conversations. When her hot-headed husband was in danger, she recognized that the best way to transform his conflict with the Scottish giant, Benandonner, was to help him to humanize his opponent. And what better way to do that than to confront him with a baby almost as big as he was! In a humorous and creative way, Oona keeps clear of the dignity-destroying violence that both giants are so fond of, and shelters them both to live another day!

Stories of the Wet

So much of Ireland is water that fresh water has been free here until very recently, and still many people do not pay for it. Below are a few short accounts of November, the wettest month we've seen so far (we missed the flooding in December in Limerick because we were up North).

1. Swimming on Samhain...where no one can hear you scream

Halloween is native to Ireland. Before jack o' lanterns and costumes, before All Saints Day, while Jesus walked the earth in the Middle East, the Irish were celebrating Samhain. Festivities of the summer's end, a night when doorways between this world and other realms of fae and fortune opened, involved sacred fires, feasts, and keeping family close and safe. 

Today in Limerick, "trick or treat" is a serious event. If the children in costume at your door are not happy with their treats they may play a trick or two on you. Having already experienced being egged this fall while riding our bikes we were happy to be off to the wondrous woods of Wicklow for a weekend of kayaking in the picturesque national park about an hour south of Dublin.

Despite the more sinister reputation of Wicklow as a good place to hide a dead body, the hostel we stayed at in Glendalough was beautiful.

Glendalough, the 6th century home to St. Kevin, is a glacial valley with two lakes, a small town and remnant of St. Kevin's monastic settlement among some of the best kayaking rivers in Ireland.

We had a fantastic time on (and in) the Avonmore river and safely navigated Guinness rapids and the boulder garden, leaving Jackson's falls to the more experienced. On our run their was 2/3rd's of a foot less water than in this video but it gives a great idea of what the river was like:

2. The Mighty Mold

November = Rain = Wet. The walls are shaking again from the wind. We wake up to windows dripping in mosture. Water is everywhere here in November.
 
At the Coffee Dock Art Gallery we've started closing our door to keep the water on O'Connell street and off the paintings but are having trouble figuring out how to get our Open sign to stay put in the wind.

In the wet weather here, colds are catching and the moisture of the Shannon lingers in your lungs. Our student house at 86 Bru na Gruadan, unlike the houses we are used to in Canada, does not have central air ducts. Localized heat, poor airflow and moisture everywhere, we are naively learning, is the perfect recipe for mold.

One fine rainy morning when we looked at our bedroom ceiling in the second week of November, we found a spiral of light grey mold looking right back at us! Since that fateful day, we have been at war with the spore!


Colds have come and gone and come again, occasionally with headaches and sore throats. In the worst week, one of our housemates regularly wiped the spreading mold off his bedside window each morning when it was drenched in condensation. After successfully pestering the Landlord for bathroom fans that actually cleared the moisture, and several intense escapades against the spores, we're still coming out on top. Constant vigilance, regular boiler activity, and open windows despite the rain are a must.

3. Across the Shannon

Through the rain and the wind, warmth is found across the Shannon. When one ventures near the warm, wood-finished Academy, music washes away the mud. The last few weeks of November marked the countdown to end of the Fall semester at the Irish World Academy. The music and dance students fluttered about final rehearsals, preparing for their end of term Concerts before their final reflective papers and exams. With a community music ensemble performance, a traditional Irish fiddle performance, a gospel choir benefit concert and five papers due in the two weeks leading up to December 5th, Laura was fluttering around like a runaway reel while Joshua was trying to keep the beat steady with his heel.

One Voice, the MA Community Music Ensemble concert went well, and was quite the mosaic of music - bringing together community practices from all around the world.

The Darkest Midnight benefit concert was superb. The Academy was decorated in fresh pine boughs and warmed with multiple cauldrons of mulled wine and platters of mince pies - outdone only by the musical performances that night. Aside from Laura's performance with the gospel choir of "Winter Song" and "Ride On King Jesus" many other ensembles saw the stage, including Laura's program director, Kathleen Turner, and even Sandra Joyce, the director of the Academy, who gave a fantastic rendition of "Ye Rambling Boys of Pleasure," one of our new favourite songs.Walking home across the Shannon in the light drizzle, we carried the warmth of the music with us as we began to prepare for Christmas and the hope imbued in the slow return of the Light!