lately.

Lately things have been busy with nothing at all. Isn't it frustrating when you feel so rushed and busy, yet you don't really end up doing anything? You just feel anxious about the things you're not doing, or should be doing, or will be doing.
This morning Jeremy and I listened to a sermon from Jeremy's grandpa, Edmund Clowney. We have a number of sermons saved on our itunes, and when we can't make it to church for various reasons (this morning being, again, that Jeremy's back prevents us from walking anywhere too far, and Jeremy had to be at work at one o'clock to boot). This morning we listened to Pop Pop reading Phillippians 4:4-6, which has always been a favorite verse of mine. Anxiety tends to be the bane of my own existence even when I try to suppress it, but these verses reminded me of some beautiful promises I tend to forget about in my own clouds of stress and anxiety. The clouds disperse and the sun comes out, warm and gentle on my face, and I am thankful.
A couple weeks ago, Jeremy and I took a trip to Northern Ireland to visit some friends, Billy and Katie, and it was great to spend time with them, catch up, laugh, and enjoy each other's company. It is always nice to get away and do something new for a while. And we have another trip coming up quite soon as well--we leave for North Carolina in about ten days! I can't believe it's already so close, we still have some planning and packing to do. We're planning on bringing just the bare necessities for the trip, and packing full our other suitcases with things we know we won't need or use from now until we move back to NC in September. So there's still plenty to do from now until then, as well as studying for my Gaelic exam which is the day after I come back from NC, and also continuing to chip away at this dissertation topic which is finally beginning to form itself into something coherent in my mind, but not yet ready for public revelation.

A shot of Jeremy and I goofing off below Mussenden Temple near Whiterocks Beach, NI.

Last night was the fire feast of Beltane, and today, according to the Celtic calendar is the first day of summer. Jeremy and I caught a fleeting glimpse of the fire up on Calton Hill from North Bridge last night, but since I have an odd aversion to crowds and it cost money, we didn't venture up to Calton Hill for the festivities themselves. But it's another gorgeous day in Edinburgh, and I have a mind to go out an enjoy it.

Until next time,

Caitlin

guilty.

I most definitely indulged in a guilty pleasure today. The last couple days have been beautifully full of spring's promise of warmth, sunshine, and light jackets. I had to walk a mile or two to deposit some cash in the bank, and on my way back I ducked into a shop. This is no ordinary shop. When Jeremy and I first plucked up enough courage to enter one day we reveled in what we saw--we finally understood what it the metaphor meant "like a kid in a candy shop." We were the kids, and it was no metaphor--we literally were in a candy shop. No joke. This tiny wee shop has thousands of different candies and sweeties stuffed into it, protruding from shelves, hanging from the ceiling, behind glass cases--everywhere you look, there is something deliciously delectable to behold. Not only that, but they serve hot drinks and ice cream as well. Today I popped in not for any of the elaborate chocolates and truffles, nor the simple and well-known candies--I went in for the simplest of spring and summer treats. A single dollop of pure vanilla dairy ice cream with a flake stuck in it. I first tasted this heaven-in-a-cone in a coastal town in Northern Ireland (Molly or Adrian, if you're reading, can you help me out with the name of that wee town?) about seven years ago (has it been that long?!) and ever since I was smitten with the simplicity of it. The ice cream is just regular white vanilla soft-serve ice cream, and the flake is made by Cadbury and it's kind of indescribable if you've never had one. In my opinion, it's not the most amazing treat by itself, but stick it into a cone of soft-serve and you've got something completely different.
So there you have it, I indulged today. It was delicious, and it made me even more excited about the imminent weather change. These ice cream cones are usually called a 99 flake or something of the sort, because you normally only pay 99p for it. I paid £1.30 for mine, but you know what? It was totally worth it. I even managed to snap a photo with my phone before I completely devoured it for you lovely readers to enjoy--though I highly recommend enjoying one of these lovelies with sense that it not sight at some point.

YUM!

heritage.

I was asked today if I could choose any citizenship to have in the world, what it would be. My answer was actually quite surprising to me, and will be to anyone reading this who knows me well. I thought about it, and replied,
"If you had asked me this six months ago, I would have undoubtedly said Irish, Scottish, or British. But today, honestly, I'm an American and I'm quite happy to be. I'd take dual-citizenship, sure, but I'll keep my American citizenship, thank you."
To anyone who has heard me pine away for Ireland in the last seven years since I first visited, this might come as a surprise. Don't take this wrong though, I am quite happy to be where I am right now, in Scotland learning about things that most definitely concern my heritage. But this semester my classes comprise of two subjects very interesting to me, Traditional Narrative and Traditional Gaelic Song. Through my lectures and reading so far, especially in Traditional Gaelic Song, we have looked at the idea of song and sense of place. This element is very important in Gaelic song and poetry--which are virtually interchangeable--and is something worth a closer study in understand the nature of the songs. Yesterday in class the lecturer, Dr. Margaret Mackay talked to us about what sense of place means, and she mentioned a Spanish word--pardon my forgetting the actual word--that essentially means a feeling of belonging, of home, a sense of being right where you needed to be. She then asked the class to go round and talk about what that might mean to us individuals.
Being away from family and home in North Carolina has been more difficult than I had foreseen. Coming to Scotland was the fruition of a dream I've had for a long time, and I hadn't even considered the fact that I might miss where I had come from. I knew I would miss family, but since my family is already so far spread across this green earth I didn't think much of flinging my own little family of Jeremy and myself out across the wide sea. But I'm not just a Barker anymore, I'm a Foreman and I had become embedded in that family so much that my abrupt uprooting was more jarring than I anticipated. I miss family birthday gatherings, I miss little children, my nieces and nephews running around, I miss having brothers and sisters around all the time, and I miss the occasional but always memorable encounters of sitting and just listening to Grandmother and Grandfather tell stories.
So when it came to me to speak in class yesterday, to tell about what created my sense of belonging or place I didn't hesitate in saying "family." And not only family, I said, again to my surprise, but the green sheltering mountains of the Blue Ridges in our little mountain valley. There's a sense of safety and comfort about that place, those mountains, and those verdant forests. That's not to say I haven't felt that sense of belonging elsewhere, I have, in Ireland so many years ago and here in Scotland as well. But I've realized that here is not where I really belong. My ancestors belonged here, and so it runs in my blood, but my ancestors picked up and moved in a perilous journey over the sea to make better lives for their families--I am that family, generations later, and I am thankful for their sacrifice, for their own uprooting and departure of that familiar comfort and belonging. I owe it to them to not just cast away the new heritage they created for me in coming back to the old, unimpressed with the new, but to appreciate the heritage of my immediate family and delight in coming here and discovering a new facet of who I am.
That's what I was missing before. I was so ready to go back to my deep roots and become what my ancestors were, that I forgot where my actual home was, where I really belonged.
Not only that, but in studying the culture and folk life I so longed for here, I realized that the tradition and folk culture from whence I came is in part cut from the same cloth as that of this rich place, and that I grew up knowing it and participating in it.
And so, in realizing my dream and coming to the British Isles to study and become part of its tradition I have realized that was already part of a tradition just as rich, and so very similar. If nothing else is accomplished here--though I know it will be--I am happy to finally realize what I have in my cozy, mountain-crowned corner of western North Carolina, and that I dearly miss it, my roots still aching there, with family, friends, familiarity, and belonging. I see the country of my ancestors and love it like they did, but I will not forsake what they gave up for me.
I hope this post makes sense. I am so happy with what Jeremy and I are doing here, it's an adventure that we'll never forget, it's part of who we are, it's in our blood and our connection to it is undeniable--but it's not home. We will come home after a much-needed and well-appreciated jaunt back to the roots of our heritage.
Part of my missing home is probably the fact that I'm living in a city, and not used to it. I like it, but I'm definitely more of an open-country, trees, mountains, wildlife kind of girl. Here are some things I'll be happy to see again.

Early morning mountain fog on Black Mountain's railroad tracks.

The absolute breath-taking beauty of autumn in the mountains.

The verdant green of the Carolina forest, climbing Craggy Pinnacle.

Far off views of mountains at sunset and woodland as far as the eye can see.

accepted.

I thought I would post my entrance essay from my application to the University of Edinburgh for the Master's programme in Highland Studies. I'm rather fond of it. Oh, and the Celtic Festival this past weekend was brilliant, albeit quite hot. But great company all round, fiery fiddlers, and bullfrog bagpipers.

Why Highland Studies?

I was sixteen when I first set foot in the British Isles—in Ireland to be specific. Consequentially, Ireland is and will always be my first love. It was among the colored doors and cobbled streets of Dublin that my love began to grow, and in the rolling, sheep-dotted countryside of that emerald isle that it was solidified. Spending time with the people soon thereafter intensified even more so my belonging to the land, with my sarcasm and dry wit so readily accepted and returned. Soon after realizing that the majority of my family’s heritage came from all corners of both isles, the best-received compliment anyone could pay me, with my dark curls and blue eyes, was, “you look Irish.” Having been keenly interested in all things Irish for quite sometime, I met my now husband my first year in college. Said husband is decidedly Scottish in his own heritage, right down to his flaming red beard and strongly stout Scottish build; not to mention a certain penchant for Glenfiddich, that, and a stubbornness rarely seen this side of a mule. Slowly I began to realize that while Ireland’s hold upon my heart was steadfast, that did not mean there was not room for another passion to stake its own claim there—another passion that seemed so similar to the first that they might just simply stop being first and second and become just one large Celtic entity entwining my heart within its intricate knot work. I now realize that my love and passion for Ireland can be just as easily translated into love and passion for Scotland as well. I can just as effortlessly imagine myself getting lost amidst the culture, music, language, and heritage of Scotland as I have Ireland, in fact all those things seem to become more parallel the further back into history one travels. That being said, the nuances in these cultures also interest me, and I intend on not only studying Highland history and culture, but also later on going to study the Irish equivalent as well. But for now, it is the Scottish call that is stronger, buttressed with the heartrending cries of the pipes, those that stir my very core to its cause. Because, while my soul might be emerald green, my heart is tartan-clad.

But what is it about the Celtic people that draws me so? As I sat, hands poised over the keyboard, thinking about the best and most truthful way to answer this question, I realized that the same thing that kept me from completely putting into words the way I feel about the history of the isles is the answer to the question. It’s the mystery. It’s the stone circles scattered across the land, and the way that I cannot quite disbelieve the mysterious and magical things said to happen there. It’s the way I could never explain to my friends when I came home just how much I was changed by setting foot in Ireland. It’s the way my chest tightens when I see photographs of the land. I want that feeling and change and mystery to be so much more than part of who I am, I want it to be what I do.

A formal education, I feel, would extend my passion into something tangible, something concrete, something more than just an interest or hobby. As a writer, and one highly influenced by Celtic culture, a deep knowledge of the subject would be invaluable. As an eventual mother, I would be able to instill in my children the love and appreciation of their heritage even more so. And as a teacher, either formally or informally, my knowledge would help those searching and yearning, as I am now, finally find something to which to holdfast.

make a week of it.

It's turned out that our St. Patrick's Day festivities have occurred more over a St. Patrick's Day week. We bought a twelve pack of Smithwick's Irish Ale and enjoyed some on Monday evening. The night before the 17th, Jeremy and I drove down to Hickory to the Taproom, a wonderfully oaken pub, to hear The Belfast Boys play some traditional Irish music and have a few pints. That was a wonderful night full of good company, good beer, and heart-rending music. There is just something about Irish (and Scottish) music that stirs my very core. It's enchanting in a very literal sense of the word, it captivates my senses and imparts an otherworldly essence to surround me--it changes me. It was wonderful to see Alan play again, and brilliant to finally see Adrian play with him as well. The were, not surprisingly, fantastic.
St. Paddy's Day itself was a little more low key, I worked both my jobs, proudly sporting some green earrings and a Celtic knotwork hair clip. Thursday was another low-key day of working for both Jeremy and me, but that evening we went to the store to purchase the necessities of what would come the next morning, which included a pack of Guinness. This morning I cooked us up an Ulster Fry, complete with potato bread, streaky bacon, tomatoes, and Heinz 57 beans, among other things. It was delicious, but very filling, and more than a little hard on the arteries I'm sure.
Tonight, Jeremy and I are headed the the Diana Wortham theatre to see Battlefield Band, a Scottish band that plays traditional music as well as new self-penned music as well, on a variety of instruments traditional and non. I won free tickets at Biltmore to the show tonight, and we're looking forward to it.
Considering, due to various circumstances, that this has been Jeremy and my first St. Patrick's Day together, I think it's turned out quite nicely.

On another note, I recently altered an old vintage peacoat that was my grandmother's to fit me. I took in the sleeves and the body of the coat, as well as put on twelve new buttons. Here's the finished product. (I unfortunately did not have the foresight to snap a 'before' photo, but oh well.)

st. patrick's day

I felt it appropriate to share with you all today the prayer of St. Patrick's breastplate. St. Patrick was an amazingly inspiring man of God, and one that we can take example from in the way he preached the Gospel. Understanding the words of this prayer clarify the kind of man he was--one I should like to emulate everyday, not just the seventeenth of March.

I bind unto myself today
The strong Name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One and One in Three.

I bind this day to me for ever.
By power of faith, Christ's incarnation;
His baptism in the Jordan river;
His death on Cross for my salvation;
His bursting from the spicèd tomb;
His riding up the heavenly way;
His coming at the day of doom;
I bind unto myself today.

I bind unto myself the power
Of the great love of the cherubim;
The sweet 'well done' in judgment hour,
The service of the seraphim,
Confessors' faith, Apostles' word,
The Patriarchs' prayers, the Prophets' scrolls,
All good deeds done unto the Lord,
And purity of virgin souls.

I bind unto myself today
The virtues of the starlit heaven,
The glorious sun's life-giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind's tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea,
Around the old eternal rocks.

I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, His shield to ward,
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.

Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours,
Against their fierce hostility,
I bind to me these holy powers.

Against all Satan's spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart's idolatry,
Against the wizard's evil craft,
Against the death wound and the burning,
The choking wave and the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till Thy returning.

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself the Name,
The strong Name of the Trinity;
By invocation of the same.
The Three in One, and One in Three,
Of Whom all nature hath creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
Salvation is of Christ the Lord.


Amen.

more or less change.

It's another Saturday, and we're already six days into February 2010. I seriously cannot believe how quickly time passes. Jeremy and I will have been married three years this year, and together for five. Cael just turned two, I'll be twenty-three and Jeremy twenty-nine. I'm graduated from college, for over a year now, and looking toward graduate school. It's been almost six years since I've been part of a swim team, and four since I've been in any sort of theatrical production. Things have changed, people are missed, people are gone, and more people have entered my life. Though much has changed, and it's odd to think about--thinking about the things that haven't changed can be eye-opening as well. I'm still a writer, and an artist. Though my mediums have shifted a bit, I haven't painted since 2006--though I do want that to change. Photography is still prevalent in my life. I knit, crochet, and sew now, things that I've always wanted to be good at. I still love reading, and getting lost in worlds and places in which I've never set foot. I love reading words, and thinking to myself, "I want to make readers feel this way about my characters, about my story one day." I still love God, love my husband, and love my dog. And I still love Ireland and all things Celtic--Scotland will be added to that list soon, Lord willing.
Jeremy and I have both submitted our applications to the University of Edinburgh, and now all we have to do it wait. Wait for God's will to be done. Waiting is harder than I anticipated. I think having control over a situation, like filling out an application, is easier than waiting for someone else to do their part before you can have an answer, like references or even the university itself. It's hard not to imagine us in Edinburgh later this year, whereas before I had a hard time actually imagining us there. That's encouraging, albeit frightening.
Chelsea's love, Andrew, is home for R&R from Afghanistan right now, and it is so absolutely wonderful to see them together again. That is another change. They are together, and reveling not only in their love for each other, but appreciating every touch and word they get to say to each other's faces, instead of on a page or screen. Appreciating the simple things experienced together.
The snow here has been almost unabated since it began. It's cold tendrils freezing everything in its path, making the everyday things like going to work treacherous. Yet, as the snow falls delicately to the ground, and the trees shimmer in their icy garb, I cannot help but simply appreciate its beauty. (It helps that I can stay home all day, not having to venture out.)
I'm still at Biltmore, though that could slightly change soon as well. Well, I'd still be at Biltmore, but I've applied for another position there. The Design Specialist position with the Biltmore Legacy would include hands-on creativity and design, incorporating Biltmore's history and family stories, as well as implementing advertising for the Biltmore For Your Home line. I'd be creating displays and talking with guests about the history of Biltmore, and other such fun stuff. Sounds right down my alley, huh? We'll see, I'll keep you posted.
So it seems that while change can be frightening and inconvenient at times, it is that change that we love to remember, and that change that shapes who we are. Change is inevitable and always imminent, just embrace it and remember from whence you've come.

One more thing. Just to remind you, in case you've forgotten-- I do, most unequivocally, still love hot tea.

Contemplatively,

Caitlin

Tha mi airson Gàidhlig ionnsachadh.

I'm not really sure what I intended on saying when I sat down, and decided to write a post tonight. And quite honestly, still have no idea what this post will be about. I've been thinking a lot lately about Scotland, partly due to the series of books I am reading of late, Diana Gabaldon's Outlander and the subsequent novels following.
After months of trying to plan a near future where Jeremy goes to graduate school and I work to support us and not getting very far at all in said plans, Jeremy and I have decided that we will try to go to school at the same time, instead of taking turns. We've decided on the University of Edinburgh, which is a different school, but the same city as we were planning before when Jeremy was to be the one attending school. Theology in History shall be Jeremy's course of study, and mine shall be Highland Studies--which is essentially the Scottish version of the Irish Studies degree I was planning on getting in Ireland after Jeremy was finished, complete with learning Scottish Gaelic rather than Irish. Now don't get me wrong, my loyalties and passion have not simply shifted with the wind on the heather, and I plan on still getting a degree in Irish Studies as well perhaps, but I've realized that if I'm Irish, I am very much Scottish as well. To say it more simply, I am Celtic, and I intend on learning exactly what that means. For, as I said in my application essay: While my soul might be emerald green, my heart is tartan-clad.
I am excited about what the future holds in Scotland and in Ireland later on, but I also realize that I must focus on today as well, not just look to far horizons, for how am I to reach said horizon if I cannot see where I am walking just now? As Jeremy and I finish up our applications, and continue preparations for moving, I pray that we do not lose sight of what we are to do here,
in the meantime, before we go gallivanting in the outer rims, before we fulfill our role as Voyagers.








This is a photo I found of Edinburgh. Up on the far hill you can see Edinburgh Castle, the university is below it.

english afternoon tea. [early march]

I realize it has been longer than I usually allow between blog posts, and for that I am sorry. Though I think the only person that has really suffered because of it has been myself, and my own writing. As I take a sip of my English Afternoon Tea in the late evening instead, I try to think what I should write here in this post. I'm torn between having too much to say, and really nothing to say at all. Yes, things have happened, and yes I have been affected by them in both negative and positive ways, but what is really worth taking the time (and the effort--does anyone know how difficult it is to type with an overgrown Cavalier King Charles Spaniel in your lap, who does not want to lay down peacefully, but sit up and look around, so that you have to type around him, and not be able to see the keys at all?--I didn't think so.) I do love my spaniel though--he and his dewy-eyed "I love you" face have been some of my few comforts during the week as Jeremy is away toiling with rock and stone. Yes, Jeremy is still away Monday through Friday down in South Carolina doing stone masonry. I am ever so proud of him, but I must admit that it's hard going to bed each night knowing that not only will I not be able to fall asleep beside him, but I won't be able to wake up next to him either. Though the fact that I miss him is sometime unbearable, I will say that him being away during the week makes the weekends when he comes home all the more wonderful. We both tend to overlook petty things that would have otherwise made us miffed with one another, and just revel in the two short days that we can enjoy each others' company before he rides off into the sunrise again on Monday morning. He is doing well in SC, and though is horridly tired in the evenings after a full day, sunup to sundown, of stone masonry, he soldiers through the week and comes home stronger in body and mind, and ready to be with his wife.
Another interesting and quite exciting piece of information from my last week or so is that I have finally decided that, indeed, I want to continue on and get a Master's Degree, and have also decided that I want to study Irish History in Ireland or Northern Ireland. Once I realized that was what I wanted to do, it was easy to reconcile to because of how obsessed I have been with my Irish heritage and anything Irish for the past 5 or so years. I am really excited about this development and am ready to get things going on it, we must save money and wrap things up where we are first. Plus, Jeremy is going to go to seminary in Scotland before I continue my education in Ireland. So, who knows when God will have us there, but I think we'll be trying to head that direction in the next two or so years.
On a final note, this past week I have been entranced and reveled in the the book The Other Boleyn Girl by Phillipa Gregory. I finished it yesterday and it has quickly risen to the top of my favorite books list. Thanks to my lovely friend, Chelsea, for lending me yet another wonderful novel.

Still sipping,

Caitlin