Scotland

A fair portion of my ancestors are Scot-Irish. Even though my family has been in America for 300-some odd years now, they still retain so much of their culture, mindset, and mannerisms, it makes you wonder about inherited genetics.

They are a people slow to change, and yet they are as steadfast as the hills. They tend toward fascination with the fatalistic, and the ballads that run with blood are alive and well. They are a cautious people, and so they have endured.

And yet...while happy to embrace the fantastically creative side of this lot, I have long felt the need to "conquer the Scot-Irish" mindset of fear. So what did I do? I went "home." And I unwittingly did it during the beginnings of a pandemic.

I seized the opportunity last summer, when a friend who has created the unparalleled Muses Escapes adventures, sent out an invitation to stay in the highlands - in a 16th century castle far removed from technology or the outside world - for a writing retreat.

This was the path ~ I knew it would be a gathering of like-minded, stunningly creative, and talented women. Women who retain the belief in dressing for the sense of place, for dinner, and for breathtaking photographs. Women who adventure. 

It was not an easy place to get to, and that led to its charm. Eighteen muses converged on a remote peninsula to the frustration of Uber and taxi drivers all over Scotland. But then, we were left alone by the fitful sea in all its moods to our revelry. And revel we did - writing sessions by candlelight, gourmet meals, fairy kitchens, flower crown workshop, golden harp music in a dungeon, love letters written to one another...and all under a full moon.

                  

In the meantime, we wrote. We wrote poems, stories from assignments, heart-wrenching confessions, novels, songs. We wandered over pebbly shores and highland moors, taking in ancient abbey ruins protected by effigies. 

We were there, like characters from a Bronte or Du Maurier novel, aware that there was a virus in the outside, but having no idea that it was spreading over the entire world. Now it feels like we were there while the world was falling apart. Many of us made it home just before border closures. 

Now, if that's not facing your fears, I don't know what is. And more importantly, the isolation & seclusion, the wild winds pushing waves back to sea, the stirring of my soul...all broke something free within in ~ words came, stories flowed ~ and I connected and embraced my heritage.

And, I wrote...