The first mountain I ever saw was at the age of 16 and it was only in my home state. The first ocean I ever splashed around in was at the Jersey Shore. I went to Disney World for the first time when I was 17. I guess I was a late bloomer with that but I still felt as giddy as a child. In my 20’s I also ventured out West. I was blown away by a culture and landscape that felt so foreign from what I’d known on the East Coast. I squealed with joy as my toes submerged into the Pacific Ocean. I’ve even been to Key West where I simultaneously experienced a pristine version of the Atlantic Ocean as well as the Gulf of Mexico. I’ve traveled a lot in my life but it wasn’t until now, at the age of 22, that I finally made my way out of the United States.
Upon arriving in Ireland my eyes grew wide with anticipation of what would fall into sight. My heart pulsated for new adventures. I wanted to do it all. I dreamed about lands unknown; people, places, and things. Would the mountains look different than the ones I saw at 16? Would the Atlantic Ocean reflect a different hue of blue from the other side?
“I’m finally here,” I thought, as I approached the gates of our apartment community. Thoughts from my childhood raced through my head. I felt oddly like Cinderella. It wasn’t a castle but it signified new opportunities for the girl who needed an escape. A day or two later, I found myself referencing an issue of National Geographic that I read a few months prior. I mentally compared colorful photographs in the magazine to the dark blue lake and grass covered mountains in my eye’s view. It all was coming true.
Similar to home in Philadelphia, I took many buses, trains, and even boats in Dublin. There, my daily routine from home, to school, and to work had hindered my awareness of all that surrounded me. Long tours were taken aboard buses in Ireland but I didn’t find myself asleep, engrossed in a book, or tuned into my iPod like I did in America. Instead my head stayed on a swivel, turning from near window to far. Although my camera struggled to capture the beautiful images of the landscapes as we rolled by, I spent a lot of my trip looking through its lens. I was sure that it wouldn’t do justice to what I witnessed with my own eyes but using the camera helped me to mentally focus in on details. My camera served as a useful tool, never allowing me to lose sight of the light.
It was important for me to not only take pictures but immerse myself in the land. I rolled in the grass at Phoenix Park, hiked the Wicklow Mountains, got sand on my feet in Malahide, and cuts on my knees in Dingle. The last time I actually fell down with an open wound was years ago, I cried then, but on this trip I rejoiced in my mishaps. Tears only rolled down my cheek out of moments of joy or inspiration.
In these times, I felt both young at heart and wise in mind. If I could go on to define “bliss” that is exactly what I’d write. This trip has reminded me to stay awe-inspired, to never stop being amazed, to see instead of simply looking. My ability to find the wandering child inside while having the adult strength to put plans into action was what brought me to this place.
As I leave Dublin, I will continue to foster my inner child. It is with a full heart, a smile, and great certainty that I promise to never let her retreat. In this last week a Bob Dylan song plays over in my head, with simple words resounding in my renewed mind… “May you build a ladder to the stars, and climb on every rung, may you stay forever young.”
– Faith Scheerbaum