Green. I have always loved the color green. To confess there are days where I realize I may have overdone it. After a quick check before i leave the house (I mean bus) I note the green shoes, olive green trousers, lighter green jacket and a green khaki hat and conclude I may have overdone the greenness – but then again this is Asheville and hey you can probably never wear enough green.
Here in the US (with yesterday being St Patrick’s day EVERYTHING is green). I’ve seen several green cowboy hats, the Chicago river turns green, green cupcakes and well me (as normal) dressed in green. At a local store the cashier asked if I was from another country – I could see her eyes light up as she asked if I was Irish. Close – I’m half Irish.
With now living away from Scotland it’s interesting to observe my reactions (and others) to being a Celt. Here in the Appalachians many folks have Celtic roots, you hear it in the music and feel it in their relationship to the land. There is also a yearning there – for many things that people grasp to to mean Celtic. What does being a Celt mean to me?
It’s so many things I haven’t named. It’s a deep connection to the land, t watching the weather systems and the moon. To those luminal times poised with magic. As most of my family are Irish and scattered around the world it’s about connecting to new lands and always feeling somehow nomadic. It’s about music and sad songs and wrestling with the shadow, of being very familiar with my dark side and hidden monsters acting as wise teachers. It’s about valuing creativity and poetry and the communication with life that exists within everything. It’s trying to grasp with concepts that seem out of reach that are gleemed from ancient texts that suddenly deeply resonate with soul and spirit.
What does it mean to you?