So here I am in Dublin, bursting at the seams with joy and unable to think straight, which let's be honest, is not an unusual state of being for me. However, this is unlike anything else I have felt before.After a year of insanity, my life seems to be back on track and I am where I need to be.
I am living in a part of Dublin which seems to be the sister neighborhood of my long desired Rockridge. Lovely tree lined streets, great local stores, beautiful residences all over the place, it is a little slice of heaven. The people here, including those I live with, seem to be the friendliest, most helpful, life filled bunch I have ever encountered. They laugh, poke fun at themselves, sing, talk, smile, greet each other as they pass, and understand the basic cynical nature of life. It is amazing. I can't help but get swept up in their strange sort of joie de vivre, giggling along side them, talking to more strangers than I ever had before and feeling a strange sense of belonging in this city I have dreamed of forever.
Then there is the history of this glorious town. Everywhere I look there is some little plaque remember some fantastic bit of Irish history (or drunk) happened there. Yeats is everywhere I look in this town. Whether it is a reference from a poem, essay or play, a building he stayed in, a theater he created or hell, a place where he stepped, I can't go anywhere without feeling him around me, daring me to write, challenge his use of allegory, or just wanting to hangout, have a beer and seep in this place which inspired him so much.
If there is a heaven, I am already here.