When I first attempted to write about my experience in Ireland, I started by writing down as much as I could. Thousands of words later, I realized that the stream-of-consciousness style probably wasn’t going to be the best approach to this. I couldn’t find a way to blend all of my experiences into a cohesive storyline, so I’ve decided to take a different approach. I’m going to write about it in several parts, which I will release over the course of the next few weeks. This method suits my brain and my writing style, and it makes the task much less daunting.
I don’t expect everything I write to make sense. Some parts will read like a spiritual quest, other parts like a traditional travel blog. The most important thing to me is that I include everything - everything I was thinking and feeling and everything I experienced. It’s the only way to approximate the truth of the experience I had, which at the end of the day is near-impossible.
I have a ton of photos from the trip, so I’m going to include them throughout my writing, whether they contextually fit or not. Most of the photos came from one specific week which I’ll write about in a later segment, but it doesn’t make much sense to put them all in one part. I’ll just include them as breaks in texts or wherever I see fit.
Without further ado, let’s begin.
Part 1: Life In Backwards Motion
It makes the most sense to start from the very beginning, which was almost a year before the trip took place. I was in a corporate job I couldn’t stand, and I was trying desperately to make it work with my on-again, off-again girlfriend. For reasons that are too complicated to get into here, that relationship brought me to the most pain I have ever experienced. It brought me straight to the darkest parts of myself and introduced me to the darkest parts that exist in other people. Up until that relationship, I was generally sheltered - mostly from alcoholic isolation - and never really had to wrestle with evil and darkness outside of philosophical pondering. In what I now see as one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given, that relationship brought it all out to surface, front and center.
I spent four years of my life trying to make sense of it all, trying to make it work, trying to fit it all into a manageable framework of life. Time and time again, I failed. I spent countless nights in the fetal position, consumed by terror and fear. It was as if a burning hot knife was pressing into my gut at all times. I knew that much of these experiences were trauma responses, and I did everything I could to address them psychologically, but I was met with an impenetrable wall in my soul that could not be moved. The more knowledge I gained, the more healing I did, the more it seemed to just get worse. I clung to the hope that maybe one day it would all just magically go away, but deep down I knew it never would. I was in love and saw a future I always wanted, and I’m a stubborn person, so I fought and fought and fought some more. That line from Batman comes to mind: “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain.”
“I was burned out in the race to become something I never even wanted to be.”
Over the course of those four years, I did indeed become the villain. I watched myself devolve from having the most noble intentions to becoming the exact thing I hated most. I became a liar and a cheater. I was in so much pain and didn’t have the option to numb myself with drugs and alcohol, so that’s how I did it. For a long time, I couldn’t even admit to myself that anything that I was doing was wrong. It was like my brain went into some numb, autopilot state, fixed on temporary soothing.
Needless to say, it never worked.
That knife in my gut never went away. I was anxious and stressed out 24/7. I was unwilling to give up the fight, so I sank into a pseudo-acceptance of my fate. I was miserable, and I was fated for a future of misery (or so I thought). Then, in what I can only describe as my darkest hour, I saw a light. It came in the form of a calling, one of which words can’t fully describe. It was a calling to go home, to go back to my roots, to go back to simplicity. I spent my entire life striving for more, trying to fit in with modernity, trying to gain things and recognition (neither of which I ever honestly cared about). I spent my entire life wrestling with desire, with the need for acceptance and validation, with these burning emotions I could not handle. I was always moving in seven different directions and unable to make much progress in any one way. I was burned out in the race to become something I never even wanted to be.
At first, I fought this calling tooth-and-nail. I kept trying to fit my life into what I thought it should be, I kept trying to make myself think thoughts I thought I should think. If you’ve ever tried that, you’d know it’s an impossible task. I felt like I was going insane, because, to some extent, I was. What’s the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I tried that for months - I tried to make myself “happier” at my job, in my relationship, in my social status. I tried to practice surrender and acceptance. I tried to look with gratitude at everything I was given and everything I had. All the while, the calling got stronger and stronger. Eventually, I was left with two choices: to task a risk and change everything or to continue down that path and fall further into oblivion. By the grace of God, I chose the former. I knew that if I decided to change I could never go back, but, despite the guilt and the shame, I knew I had no other choice. I decided to stop trying to move forward and set my life in backwards motion.
It was at this point that I had a vision. It was me as a child, somewhere around the age of ten years old. It was before drugs and alcohol, before nicotine and caffeine addiction. It was before I watched porn for the first time, before I ever kissed a girl or had sex. It was before I had a job and before my first heartbreak, before desire, lust and greed entered my mind like slow poisons. In this vision, I was happy. In this vision, I was free. Twenty years of life had stripped me of all that, no matter how pleasant I may have come across to friends and acquaintances. Something essential to my being, something like innocence or purity, was spirited away. I knew that the calling I was getting was tied directly to this vision, and it became the guide of every action I’ve taken since. Everything has been centered around finding that happy and free little boy once again.
With much trepidation, I began to act. I started with what seemed like the most glaring problem at the time - my job and my “career”. I loved the company I worked for and the people I worked with, but I felt completely useless. I wasn’t doing anything significant, I wasn’t helping anyone, and I always found myself doing the bare minimum. I knew that I was a man capable of so much, yet I couldn’t even succeed at a relatively simple job. I felt incompetent, like someone forgot to give me the instruction manual for becoming an adult. I knew that I would not be able to bear a lifetime of that, but I was too trapped by comfort and luxury to do anything drastic. I was getting by, after all, and I wasn’t performing badly enough to get fired. Then by chance, my boss scheduled a meeting with me, the point of which I did not know.I hopped on the zoom call, and he asked me a question that took me by surprise.
“Do you even want to be here?” he asked.
By all accounts I should have said what you’re “supposed” to say. I should have said “of course I do” and been willing to do whatever he asked. He obviously picked up on the fact that I was disconnected, and he was looking out for me by asking this question so bluntly.
“No,” I blurted out. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“I told myself that no matter what happened, I couldn’t go back, and I was willing to endure whatever necessary to make it work.”
I was shocked by the words that came out of my mouth. For context, I had developed a strong relationship with my boss, a truly great and honest man, and he knew that I had other endeavors in my life. I was comfortable speaking to him plainly, but this seemed like crossing the line. He could have fired me on the spot. In yet another surprise, he didn’t. He actually agreed with me that I shouldn’t be there. He wanted me to do bigger and better things. Needless to say, it was the strangest (and most beautiful) conversation with a boss I ever had.
This man was willing to work with me over the course of a few months in an act of kindness that I will never be able to repay. I had some cushion to figure out what I was going to do next. Maybe I’d become personal trainer, maybe I’d become a fitness influencer, maybe I’d finally put everything I had into music and try that again. Turns out I didn’t have to do much before the path became clear…
Throughout my life I gained experience in construction at different stages, at one point working for a large corporate construction company in Manhattan and at another point apprenticing for my uncle, a master carpenter (whom I’ve written about before) in residential building. I certainly didn’t have enough experience to justify starting my own company, but I knew someone who did - my cousin, who I might as well call my brother. He happened to to be looking to do the same, so we partnered up and started our own residential construction company. I eventually quit my job, and I left my bougie Brooklyn apartment and moved back home with my mother - a move that was tough on my 30+ year old ego. I told myself that no matter what happened, I couldn’t go back, and I was willing to endure whatever necessary to make it work.
Step one, complete. I started to get a tiny glimpse of the freedom I had envisioned. There was (and still is) so much more to figure out, but I knew I was finally on the right path. Life became simpler, and with that simplicity came some relief. Somehow, work was profitable and steady right off the bat, and has been ever since (I like to think I’m somewhat of a quick learner). I felt useful, and I felt like I was actually helping people. Little flickers of my vision began to shine through my spirit, but despite that, the pain and sorrow I tried so desperately to run from continued to get worse. I tried desperately to make it work with my girlfriend, whom I was sure I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I still fought, still spent nights in cold sweats, still tried to hold on hoping. I still acted out and played the villain. I didn’t know what to do next - all I could do was hold on and trust that the next steps would become clear.
“This pain, this sorrow, this thing that had consumed me for years - I finally found others who felt it exactly like I did. “
I’ll never forget the night when my ex brought up the concept of “WWOOFing”. We were at an Air BnB at a weekend-long training session in upstate New York, laying in bed and talking about life and the future. I had never heard of it before, and the name made me laugh. For those of you that don’t know, WWOOF stands for Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms. It’s an organization that operates globally, where volunteers, known as “WWOOFers,” travel to different organic farms to learn and work in exchange for room and board. It is a wonderful organization, and if that’s something that interests you I highly recommend it.
I don’t quite remember if the idea of traveling to Ireland came before or after that night, but I know that soon enough, the calling once again burned within me. This time it told me to go back to where it all began, to the place my name originated. I didn’t really know how that would help me - I just knew I had to trust it. I decided to plan the trip, and with my new knowledge of WWOOFing, I knew exactly how I wanted to do it. I have a life and a business to run, so I didn’t want to spend too much money, but I wanted to spend a few weeks in Ireland to really immerse myself in the culture. WWOOFing was the perfect medium. I could go to Ireland, work the days, get free room and board, and spend my free time exploring. Organic farming was very aligned with my lifestyle, but I’d be lying if I said it was my primary interest at first. Little did I know, WWOOFing itself would become the most beautiful and life-changing part of my experience, but we’ll get to that later on.
In the spirit of getting back to my roots, I dove into my history - both of my family and my Irish heritage. I watched every documentary I could get my hands on, and I read everything I could read. I read the Irish poets - Yeats, Russell, Plunkett (my personal favorite) to name a few - and found that they resonated with me more than anything else I had ever read in my life. This pain, this sorrow, this thing that had consumed me for years - I finally found others who felt it exactly like I did. I started to see that the door that was opened for me was much greater than I ever imagined - the Irish people, my people, have seen the worst of the human experience - calamity, tragedy, heartbreak. You name it, they’ve experienced it, and they’ve written about it.
It was at this point that a shift began to occur within me. For the first time in my life, I felt understood in the deepest parts of myself, even if that understanding came mostly from dead Irishmen. The calling that was vague at first started to get clearer and clearer. I wanted to walk the land that these men walked, to breathe the air that they breathed. I wanted to converse with their spirits. The darkness that I had felt my entire life, and especially over the last few years, led me to a point of feeling incurably alone. I finally found a place that I felt like I belonged, even if it was a place lost in time. I knew that the wind and the land would be enough to connect me to that. I now understood why I was being so called to Ireland, to my ancestors. Now I just had to figure out exactly where I was going.
“I thought about that ten year old boy, how he got swallowed up by the world, how he reacted by keeping his heart locked up and defended.”
Inspired by the vigor of the Irish poets, I looked deeper into my own ancestry and family name - “O’Leary” or “O’Laoghaire” in Gaelic. I traced my lineage back several generations in an experience which felt like meeting old family members for the first time. Eventually, I uncovered that my name originated from a little village in West Cork called Inchigeelagh, also known as Iveleary. Once I uncovered this crucial piece of information, I hopped online and looked up the WOOFing locations in Ireland. Sure enough, there was a smallholding (a.k.a. small organic farm) a mere 10 minute drive from Inchigeelagh. I applied to work on the farm and was accepted. The journey was now set - all I had to do was make sure I made it on the plane.
Over the course of a few months, there were many victories and many defeats. I was excited for what this new adventure had in store for me, but I still had to live my life. The pain that set set the stage for my journey would not cease, and in time I finally found the strength to let go of the love that I held on to for so long. It was the last bastion of my old life, and I had to say goodbye. I knew I had to make my journey alone - that’s how it was always meant to be. Truth be told, after I looked long enough into the mirror, I realized that I was not capable of being in a relationship. I didn’t know how to trust anyone - something that plagued me my entire life. I thought about that ten year old boy, how he got swallowed up by the world, how he reacted by keeping his heart locked up and defended. The only way I was going to have any semblance of a healthy relationship was to get him back, to recover those things we both lost along the way. The backwards motion - that’s what this journey was all about.
Only in retrospect am I able to see how every minute detail of my experience leading up to my journey played a part in its inception. If I didn’t meet the girl, I would never have felt the pain that pushed me to change, and I would never had learned about WWOOFing. If I didn’t quit my job, I would never have had the freedom to travel for the time that I did. If I didn’t listen to my heart, I would not have heard the call to go back to my roots, to go back to that child. If I didn’t lose the love, I would never have been able to see the purpose behind all of it.
I look back now with tremendous gratitude towards all those who played a part in setting the stage for what would become the most transformational journey of my life. This is already one of the longest pieces I’ve ever written on this site, and I haven’t even begun to tell the story yet. I think that says something. Keep an eye out for next week’s installment, where I’ll cover the serendipitous start to my journey, Irish farm-life, the Irish Tao and, eventually…
How I met the Buddha in West Cork.
-D