Fishing in Deeper Waters

fish-chowder-trailer-2-howthNice to have a note from Dublin psychotherapist Coinneach Shanks on the symbolism of fish. This in response to  my Ireland photo (right) of the Tram Chowder in Howth with its “Fish is Life” slogan.

Coinneach blogs at Psychotherapy in Dublin and has some beautiful photos and lovely reflections on the deeper symbolism of our everyday world. Here’s part of his comment on the symbolism of fish:

Fish are water symbols and are as the vendor correctly suggests, symbols of life. Fish and reproduction are well known companions. They make many, many eggs and are considered almost universally as prosperous and fertile. But Howth is a fishing place and the myths of casting the net and hauling fish from the depths are also cross cultural. Peter was the Fisher of Men, catching the souls for conversion and thus saving them from damnation. For psychoanalysts – well, we fish all the time. We are looking for material from the unconscious, which can be compared to the sea. By allowing spontaneous forces to operate, hidden material of great value may be brought to the surface.

Read Coinneach’s whole post here.

Howth: Where Molly Bloom Said ‘Yes’

Dateline: Howth, Dublin, Ireland, overlooking the Irish Sea

Probably the most famous bit of modern Irish literature is James Joyce’s Ulysses (1922). Set in Dublin, it tracks a day (June 16, 1904) in the life of one Leopold Bloom. Joyce was experimenting with language and fracturing the established order of the novel in a way similar, perhaps, to Faulkner.

Taking Homer’s epic, Joyce makes an ordinary advertising salesman Leopold Bloom into the hero and all the daily adventures he encounters as he makes his way around Dublin. At the famous conclusion to Ulysses, Molly Bloom, Leopold’s wife, has an several page soliloquy in which she recalls her decision to accept her first date with Leopold when he wooed her on Howth Head.

Yesterday, Katie Chilton and I walked up to the trailhead that leads out to Howth Head. First we stopped for a few minutes to revel in a house where W.B. Yeats grew up. (Yeats wooed the fiery revolutionary Maude Gonne also on Howth Head.)

Finally, we headed out on the cliff trail and hiked up to the head. It’s a rugged, beautiful, terrifying height over the pounding surf. We watched crabbers pull in their pots. From the look of the “refuse” in the crevices of the rocks, I’d say Howth Head is still a place for lovers.

Howth Head, where Molly Bloom said 'yes'
Howth Head, where Molly Bloom said yes

Here’s a portion of Molly’s soliloquy from James Joyce’s Ulysses.

…the sun shines for you he said the day we were lying among the rhododendrons on Howth head in the grey tweed suit and his straw hat the day I got him to propose to me yes like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long kiss I near lost my breath yes he said I was a flower of the mountains yes so we are flowers all a woman’s body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes…

…I was a Flower of the mountains yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him and yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will yes.

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Howth: Fish is Life

Dateline: Howth, Dublin, Ireland, overlooking the Irish Sea

Just a taste of the town of Howth. It’s a fishing village with the finest and freshest fish you’ll find anywhere. Every morning I’ve had wild salmon for breakfast with eggs, tea, and toast.

On the West Pier in Howth I spotted this little trailer and couldn’t resist it.

Howth, Dublin, West Pier
Howth, Dublin, West Pier

I’m sure there is good Christian symbolism in this photo. It’s all part of tracking Jesus … once you catch the scent..

Howth: “Spiritual Direction”

Dateline: Howth, Dublin, Ireland, overlooking the Irish Sea

The sun has poked up over Howth Head this morning and the sea is bright and blue. Howth harbor is a seal sanctuary, so the seals are rolling over slowly in the surf and the seagulls are harassing them with glee.

Last night, our writers group gathered at a local pub, Krugers, for a poetry reading by Ted Deppe from his forthcoming collection Orpheus on the Red Line (Tupelo Press, 2009). It’s a collection with great tenderness, wisdom, and a touching feel for the rough sides of ordinary life. I especially loved his poem “Houses of Hospitality” about Dorothy Day. I’ll try to get a copy and post it here.

In the meantime, below is one of Ted’s poems:

Spiritual Direction

Because she poked fun at the way his white robes
flew out behind him as he biked back
to the monastery for vespers

and then, recording her jokes in his journal,
he tried to recall each thing she’d said or done.

Because his hands shook when he phoned her
and later, when they walked beyond the gatehouse,
how the hills wouldn’t stop trembling–

he told himself he knew at least this much,
if the world shakes, pay attention!

Because of the long night, then, when he couldn’t not
think of her. Or the energy surging
through his ordered life, a wind

rising within him, the same energy he’d followed
long ago into the abbey, almost helpless again before it.

His reaching out of bed for his journal,
trying to describe the sound of her laughter
in the gatehouse corridor. As if God was leading him

away from the church, away even from God.
As if he was at last at the mercy.

-Theodore Deppe (from The Wanderer King).

Howth: No Second Troy

Dateline: Howth, Ireland, overlooking the Irish Sea

I made it to Howth, Ireland, just outside Dublin. Howth is the hook that goes out into the Irish Sea. It’s also where W.B. Yeats grew up and wrote his early poetry. My room looks out over the sea wall and tonight the moon is full, which brought us some wonderful tides today. The old abbey ruins on the hill are comforting in the moonlight and the buoys are calling out to the boats out for night fishing.

Yesterday, after arriving at 7 a.m., I took the Eirebus and Dublin Area Rapid Transit train from the Dublin airport to Howth Station. Then walked a half mile in the pouring rain to the King Sitric guesthouse where I’m staying this week. On the train was Yeat’s poem “No Second Troy.” It’s Yeat’s homage to the militant Irish freedom-fighter Maude Gonne. Yeats was in love with her. She was not in love with him. She advocated armed struggle to free Ireland from British rule. Yeats deplored violence and found it empty. In this poem, he compares her to that “face that launched a thousand ships,” Helen of Troy. Yeats found Gonne inspiring and she served as a poetic muse for him, but–like some political figures today–she stirred up a baseness in people that appalled him (“have taught to ignorant men most violent ways”).

No Second Troy
WHY should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great.
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?
–William Butler Yeats

Look for more from Ireland in the days ahead!.