Siddhartha Gautama, the founder of Buddhism, is quoted as saying: “Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future: concentrate the mind on the present moment.” But right now in Ireland, practicing what he once preached is extremely difficult for the majority.
To those of us who grew up in Ireland some years ago, something enlightening happened early in our lives as we went to class at our local national school. Amid the times tables and glass bottles of milk at lunchtime, you may remember stories of three-day fights at a ford, or a young boy on a quest for eternal youth; names like Ferdia and Setanta.
Through fables and early history, our teachers instilled a real cultural sense of Irishness, filling our heads with tales of the victorious Brian Boru on Clontarf’s plains; of restoring national unity and promoting peace throughout the island; of Cúchulainn fighting for justice.
It was enlightening to us because of the cultural depth instilled by these stories – this is how we learned where we came from. After all, most great societies have their legends and heroes. Americans have Billy the Kid, Pat Garrett and Davy Crocket; the Greeks have Odysseus, Helen and Achilles; Scandinavians have Hagbard and the Valkyries. And we Irish have Cúchulainn, Queen Meave and Brian Boru.
Today’s Ireland seems to have lost this connection to the past. We have little or nothing to inspire us as a nation at a time when ‘going forward’ in Ireland is virtually impossible, in either thought or practice.
Once one of the kingpins of the global market, the recession has seen our national character reduced to embers of what it once was. And while the leaders of our political and financial institutions advise us to sit tight and ride out the storm, considering our most recent history, why should we listen to them?
No wonder we have such a strong urge to dig deep into the national psyche. But while we search for the kernel of the Irish spirit, we should consider what the identity of the nation means to our newest arrivals.
Think of a child from Botswana, Burma or Brazil learning about our national folklore. Do we wish these children to think of our legends as lifeless cardboard cut-outs? Or as the founding heroes of a country worth living in, just as we learned when we were young?
In this maelstrom of bad politics and a worse economy, shrouded in a fog of future uncertainty, we could do worse than harness what our primary school teachers tried to instil in us way back when, if even for a little comfort.
At least then being Irish might not seem so ominous.
