Friday, 14 August 2015

MINE and W.B. YEATS' SPIRITUAL HOME


As to why overcast, windblown, and windswept can be so enticing is probably just as baffling to some as to why poet W.B. Yeats specified that as soon as the flurry of the news of his death died down, he wanted his remains in France to be exhumed and reinterred in County Sligo, Ireland.








W.B. Yeats was a Dubliner and only spent some childhood summers in Sligo, but he apparently took so much liking for the town and city, he considered it his spiritual home and 'country of the heart' literally and symbolically.  All over the county, Yeats' legacy is honoured.





I have been coming back and forth to Sligo for four years now (and have done several posts on previous trips) and each time I go back, I'm renewed. My tropical sun-and-sand blood, whose ideal holiday is to read a book while fashionably holed up in a hammock facing the sea, has embraced ideas other than the sun shining and walking in mismatched flip-flops. The prospect of the sun showing up is much anticipated, I now run towards it rather than hide from it. 

Do you see that bench above facing the North Atlantic Ocean? It has taught me that meditation can be done with my eyes open.



Some fashion talk: the ultra light down bomber jacket from Uniqlo is ace! On sale just for a day from £80 down to £30.  The bargain spotter in me couldn't wait to make her way to the till.



Behind me is part of Benbulben, which I took some beautiful (not saying my photos are beautiful, but instead, the sight is) shots of, which you can see HERE. There's a concept and physical reality of space and oblivion to time. In a place where the sun sets at nearly 10pm, regular schedules become irrelevant. 



River Garavogue in the centre of Sligo Town, which I have personally christened as the River of Guinness. It was said to have been blessed by St. Patrick so it would produce salmon all year round.



The much more peaceful end of River Garavogue. Sligo was getting ready for this week's Fleadh Cheoil 2015, the biggest traditional Irish music festival. That night, Boney M played to kick off the event.






I've seen this part of Ireland at its most glorious and at its dampest, and it's just as beautiful on both occasions, just like a woman with or without make-up. When you see a place at its most uninviting weather and you still want to see more of it, then it must be a little close to maybe calling it home one day.





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