Innkeeper’s
Fire is a keeper;
a fascinating piece of literary art. It has been said of the celebrated
Russian soprano Anna Netrebko that even if she were to learn many more
new parts, the role of Natasha Rostov in War and Peace will
remain one
of the chief roles in her life. The same could very well be said of the
author of Innkeeper’s
Fire in that even if he were to write
many more new books, the role of Risteard Mac Grailt in this work will
remain one of the chief male character roles in his life.
That’s because this type of calm, wise, bright, joyous,
courteous, warm voiced, nuptial hermit and family man; this rural
philosopher-poet of Eire who tells mythic stories and engages in homely
conversations perfectly fits the author’s imaginative,
writing, and poetic possibilities. There is the quiet man and his lady
of the valley of Ballylee, the quiet man and his lady of the lake isle
of Innisfree, and now here the quiet man and his lady of the hill
country of Deisi Mumhan.
Back-cover:
Innkeeper’s
Fire is a landmark
work in the tradition of clear independent Irish thought; in the
tradition of spontaneous, independent, Irish philosophical speculation
of the most natural, and native kind.
This 40-chapter, 2-volume,
multi-layered contemplative work is presented in a traditional Irish
storytelling setting, namely that of the convivial ambience of sitting
around a cosy open hearth telling stories, and then discussing them at
length for half the night. It brings before the reader a cornucopia of
compelling contemporary topics ranging from those related to Art and
Artistry, Astronomy, Bioethics, Economics, Environment,
Extraterrestrial life, Family, History, Human dignity, I-ching,
Language phenomena, Marriage, Parentage, Philosophy, Relationships,
Religion, and to Technology just to mention but a few.
Innkeeper’s
Fire effectively communicates that it is an
ongoing human obligation to think life in a new and different light.
The flamboyancy and style of both the stories and their commentaries
ensures a highly enjoyable and most rewarding encounter. Its profundity
will at times bring tears to the eyes.
With affection, respect, and
admiration do we well know of the quiet man William and his lady
Georgina of the tower castle in the valley of Ballylee, and of the
quiet man Sean and his lady Mary Kate of the lovely lake isle of
Innisfree, well the time seems now nigh for us to ascend into the hill
country that we get to know of yet another quiet man and his lady.
Innkeeper’s
Fire is a keeper; a fascinating piece of literary
art, best read as philosophy expressed through a poetic means all of
its own delightful design.
Contents:
Volume One
Introduction
Act 1. Misty Knight
Act 2. Great Countryside
Act 3. Save One
Act 4. Left Foot &
Right Foot
Act 5. Six Carrying Two
Act 6. Attitude
Act 7. Three Members
Act 8. Autumnal leaves
Act 9. Trueworth
Act 10. Sun
Act 11. Flying
Act 12. Surfacesight
Act 13. Listen
Act 14. Look
Act 15. Golden Corn
Act 16. Moonstarry Nights
Act 17. Talentary
Act 18. Calm Lakeriver
Act 19. Officers Mess
Act 20. Windowsill
Act 21. Warm Ice Fields
Act 22. Opera House
Volume Two
Introduction
Act 23. Beautiful Obscura
Act 24. Beginning to Dawn
Act 25. Faded Green Stole
Act 26. One Quay
Act 27. Harmony Restored
Act 28. Who said I
Act 29. Sounds & Scents
Act 30. Nine Seconds
Act 31. Place in Anyotherwhere
Act 32. Fleur-de-lys Pendulum
Act 33. Laughter
Act 34. Broadcasting
Act 35. Views in Movement
Act 36. Our Essence
Act 37. Unified Theory
Act 38. You Can Believe It
Act 39. Alpha & Omega
Act 40. Mountain Plateau
________ : ________
Introduction:
Innkeepers’
Fire is a keeper; a fascinating piece of literary art,
best read as philosophy expressed through a poetic means all of its own
delightful design. Some nineteen years in the making, the earliest
section of the work dates from early autumn of 1991 right through to
late spring of 1992. It contained forty succinct stories, and was
written in the joyful, supportive company of my wife Sung-ja, son
Richard, and daughter Iris in our pretty apartment south of the great
Han River, in Seoul the capital of the Republic of Korea.
While an overarching conceptual frame of
ideas had been with me for some time up to then, I had as of yet not
encountered a compelling enough situation; a catalyst as it were that
would have strongly encouraged me to formulate my ideas on paper.
However, that very quickly changed with the outbreak of the United
Nations authorised Gulf War of the 2 August 1990 to the 28 February
1991.
On a visit back here home to
Éire in the summer of 1993, I had these forty stories
privately published as a short and compendious paperback. It was titled
Oriental
Mystique. Copies of this work are kept in the Library of
Congress, Harvard College Library Cambridge, British Library, and in
Trinity College Library Dublin.
Some years later, and now teaching in
Jeddah, in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, a generous opportunity
presented itself which enabled me to have these stories internationally
published. In the summer of 1998 a version (with some minor
modifications on the previous publication) appeared, and was titled A Misty Night
Canticle. Copies of this work are also kept in the British
Library, and in Trinity College Library Dublin.
Having completed my three-year contract
in Jeddah, I had gone on to spend a further three years teaching in the
United Arab Emirates before returning here to Éire to settle
for the time being. That was in mid-June of 2001.
Ever since the publication of Oriental
Mystique and even more so with the publication of A Misty Night
Canticle I had been contemplating adding a commentary
section to these stories which would take the form of poetic/rhetoric
dialogues; intriguing natural conversations of the lyrical kind. I felt
the stories needed to be interestingly teased out, thus providing the
reader with the opportunity to become more personally acquainted with
them.
I envisaged a work that would well
bespeak in continuance and similitude of sincerity, scope, and style
the charming storytelling ways of my father Richard Mc Sweeney of
Ballyvourney, and of my mother Joan Healy of Glanworth, and of their
fathers and mothers before them, and of our ancestors going way way
back on either side by humble cottage and grand hall hearth; a
continuance and similitude that would be seen to be in no small way a
worthy 21st century epiphany of the rich literary heritage of
Éire.
With this in mind, I had been examining
and reflecting upon the methods used by such innovative and creative
greats as Gibran Kahlil Gibran in his The Prophet,
Friedrich Nietzsche in his Thus Spake
Zarathustra, Iohannes Scottus Ériugena in his On the
Division of Nature, Titus Lucretius Carus in his On the Nature
of Things, and Chuang-Tzu in his The Chuang-Tzu;
William Shakespeare in his A Midsummer
Night’s Dream, and John Millington Synge in his Riders to the
Sea. Then abominable 9/11 happened, and I could clearly
discern in it that a catalytic moment had come upon me to provide the
original collection of stories with extensive and in depth commentaries.
Composition of the commentaries began in
earnest in November of that same year in the joyful, supportive company
of my family here in our lovely home in Tallow, south of the gentle
Bride River. The work carried on all the way through to March of 2003.
Each and every story was provided with a dialogue distinguishable by
its poetic and rhetoric qualities; a commentary in the form of an
intriguing natural conversation between the teller of the story and the
listener. Once the story was delivered the listener would ask certain
questions of the storyteller on elements that were of interest and of
concern to him or her.
Being now well satisfied with this
completed work, I set it aside for the next three years while I applied
myself to other writing projects, namely that of Hearing in
the Write, Generations
Reaching, A Jesus of
Nazareth, and Myriam of
Lebanon. On a side note, publication of these works has
been in reverse chronological order. The first being Myriam of
Lebanon followed by A Jesus of
Nazareth, Generations
Reaching, and Hearing in
the Write. And now Innkeeper’s
Fire.
With revisiting the work in the closing
months of 2007, I made some slight modifications here and there.
However, aside from the digital artwork introducing each of the
chapters (acts) the original stories were left intact in their original
forms as they had been presented in the 1998 internationally published
version, and so too were the commentaries that were added between 2001
to 2003. The reason for this being that I wanted to preserve them in
their unique time settings: namely just before the dawning of the
Internet Age proper, and the aftermath of the 9/11 tragedy.
At the time of writing the original
stories back in 1991-92, it would be true to say that literally I knew
very little of what was the Internet. Hence this having been the
reality with respect to my knowledge of what was to become THE
INTERNET, it is quite amazing that so much in these stories can now be
appreciated as having accurately foreseen and anticipated with
remarkable prescience some of the major difficulties we are today
experiencing with the Internet Age, not to mention with the destructive
consequences created by the disgraceful lack of moral conviction
displayed by the United Nations on several opportune occasions, when
with just a little bit more reflection and a great deal more effort, it
could so very easily have had assured a more compassionate, dignified,
and peaceful world for everyone in these following years and beyond.
Innkeeper’s
Fire comes in two
volumes; volume I
contains Acts 1-22, and volume II,
Acts 23-40. It is being presented as an opera of place rather than as a
drama of place as the setting for each act and its performance may be
said to resemble more that of an opera performance than that of a
theatre. With just a slight movement of the imagination one can easily
see, hear, feel, and come to know this to be so for the voices, sounds,
and silences found therein are all simply music expressed in a
particular rhythm, pitch, melody, and harmony, and in a style and
deliverance all of its own wondrous composition.
I have chosen a traditional Irish
setting which is very close to my own heart, namely that of the
convivial ambience of sitting around a cosy open hearth telling stories
and then discussing them at length for half the night. Here on the isle
of Éire, as surely in many other places too, the tradition
of telling stories about the hearth has been honoured and treasured by
our people for centuries and centuries be they sitting about the hearth
within their simple cranogs, cottages, country houses, castles grand or
by road away caravans.
The hearth within these pages is seen as
a bright window way to our ancestors; a natural, and faithful
expression of Sacred Hearth Sun’s presence deep within the
home, deep down within the isle, deep down adown within the planet. For
verily, like all peoples we have down through the ages naturally
treasured sitting and chatting with each other, and with the welcomed
stranger about sacred hearths be they off in the ever so quiet crisp
Arabian desert night air, or here in the wild windy winterish evenings
of this North Atlantic isle; delighted we have however and wherever in
sitting and chatting together about gently crackling, softly singing,
sacred fragrant hearths. And who knows knows it to be so, that these
sacred fragrant hearths well serve as ever-present living home sweet
home emblems of Sacred Hearth Sun’s wondrous presence within
our own bosoms.
Each and every act has the same format:
a prologue, and the presentation of a story followed by an in depth
conversation. While there are forty different stories with their
accompanying conversations told by the one same storyteller to forty
different listeners, the work may also be understood as giving the
impression of being a single multifaceted story accompanied by an
equally multifaceted conversation, and again told by the same
storyteller to one lone listener albeit a listener who is of various
roles, and whose personality types, experiences, and cultural
backgrounds all greatly differ.
Rísteárd
Mac Grailt the innkeeper; the knowledgeable, adept,
self-taught storyteller as well as faithful invoker and recipient of
ancestral blessings and inspiration, first tells a story (sighting) to
his special guest, Receptive. This is then followed by a very
enlightening conversation initiated by the guest on the content of the
story. Throughout the work the identities of all guests save for two or
three are kept anonymous (hence the anonym
“Receptive”). Come equinoxes and solstices all
storytelling sessions take place on Sunday Eves, in other words on
Saturday nights.
An important feature of the work is the
invitation to the reader to seek white space knowledge; the hidden
knowledge found in the depths, widths, and heights about the written
word; inclusive of the hidden knowledge found between the letters and
punctuation markings of words, phrases, sentences, and paragraphs.
Wherever there is white space there exists hidden knowledge. And it may
well be said that there is no white space that doesn’t
contain hidden knowledge. The encounter with it is subjective to the
reader, in that white space knowledge welcomes and respects the level
of knowledge being brought to it, and as such responds to it
accordingly; never too easy nor never too difficult, just comfortably
hovering there somewhere betwixt and between.
The stories and their respective
conversations in this multi-layered contemplative work cover many
compelling contemporary topics, ranging from those related to Art and Artistry, Astronomy, Bioethics, Economics, Environment, Extraterrestrial
life, Family,
History, Human dignity, I-ching, Language phenomena, Marriage, Parentage, Philosophy, Relationships, Religion, and to Technology just to
mention but a few.
What truly distinguishes Innkeeper’s
Fire and provides it with its definite strength has to be
the time frame in which it was written, the diversity of topics
addressed, the boldness of thought explored, and throughout the charm
of presentation maintained. The lyrical simplicity and inventiveness of
the discursive language employed, and its potent ability to bring about
a qualitative change in the way we look at life and ourselves makes the
work a very attractive read. To achieve this effect an abundance of
artistic, literary, mythic, religious, and symbolic motifs have been
brought into play.
Innkeeper’s
Fire effectively communicates that it is an ongoing human
obligation to think life in a new and different light. The flamboyancy
and style of both the stories and their commentaries ensures a highly
enjoyable and most rewarding encounter. Its profundity will at times
bring tears to the eyes. While cryptic and esoteric elements are subtly
and copiously scattered here and there throughout the text, they
won’t in anyway distract from the reader’s
enjoyment of the work, rather will instead be handsomely adding to
their enjoyment of it. The work takes the position that there is
nothing that isn’t mysteriously related to everything else in
some way or another.
Introduction continues ... ... ...
ACT 1.
Oidhche
Dhomhnaigh Cois Tine Mhóna
ACT 1.Misty Knight
Prologue:
Supper is now over in the cosy
botháin ósta.
Rísteárd Mac Grailt the innkeeper is putting some
more turf on the fire; the fire that is never allowed to quench. Each
night before retiring, the remaining fire would be raked to cover over
the live embers of turf with the ashes. The embers would then be left
to repose comfortably there throughout the night until just before
aurora when they would be gently breathed into to coincide with the
flowering of the daystar. In this manner was impressive continuity been
given to the ancient custom of ensuring the perpetual presence of the
Inner Sun in the hearth of the home.
Outside it is a wet dark night with the
wind blowing in from the southwestern Atlantic; the kind of night that
one feels thankful for having the right side of the house facing out.
Sitting across the hearth from
Rísteárd, is his guest, Receptive.
The fire glows interesting shadows up
the walls to the rafters to join up with those already making sport
there from the candle over on the windowsill and from the one on the
table.
Rísteárd
Ah, this
pleasing fire, Receptive revives to my eyes the sighting of Misty Knight.
Receptive
How does it proceed, Rísteárd?
Rísteárd
(silently
invocating)
Oh
benevolent ancestors of our people;
Vigilant custodians of the isle's sacred
hearths.
Bless my
tongue and lips this Sunday Eve
That I may with a good grace, and
In a
style worthy of your revered tradition,
Announce to my honoured guest, Receptive
This
sighting of the hearth.
And may
the blessings of those pastoral sojourners of Bygone Eves be upon
Receptive too;
Who in their search with Truth and
Eternity,
Were
welcomed inside many the threshold,
To listen to stories grand, and
Contribute words profound.
Inspire
memorable questions and gratifying elucidation
That we two may enjoy marvellous
discourse.
And may
this night's humble bequest to posterity
Be worthy of acceptance into your hearts.
Rísteárd
(smiling) Now where shall I begin?
I suppose no better place to begin than
at the very beginning.
Receptive
(smiling) Then I will begin my listening
also from the very beginning.
Rísteárd (in a
slow soft melodious voice of a lovely blas and of intonations
iridescent; the kind of voice that would be carrying one away into
another world)
Misty
Knight switches off the telesatavision in the sitting room,
and with tears in his eyes retreats into his study.There he sits at the
window, ninety-one floors above the screeching streets, lost in
painweightful thought.
He had been watching THE NEWS as was his
habit
every morning for the past years of years, before leaving for his place
of work.
And he speaks unto himself with a great
heaviness of heart, saying,
'How can I continue to merely doodle
while there is so much hardship taking place in the world? I have a
comfortable room to study in, a soft bed to sleep in, delicious food to
fill my stomach with whenever I so desire, a loving family, and a lot
of freedom.'
And he continues, saying,
'Borderless television brings the
hardships into my wheretheycannotphysicallytouchme room. Of course,
initially I am shocked, and hurt for a while, and then I have to allow
myself the convenience of forgetting all about them.
Today it is minus one degrees Celsius outside. I feel it to be very
cold. On the telesatavision I have just watched refuge children with
few clothes, no socks, no shoes, running noses, and tangled hair. Tears
form and, immediately freeze on their cold faces as they attempt to
walk on minus twenty degree icesnow in a refuge camp somewhere down on
the planet floor,
far far beneath my highrise cosinest. Dirty brown coloured issue tents
where flapping and swaying in the wind.'
And his chest heaves, saying,
'How can I go on living my own
comfortable style of life indifferently to the miserable plight of my
fellow lifeforms? How can I go on living indifferently to the massacres
which have taken place already in the world during my lifetime not to
mention those of former times? How can I go on living indifferently to
the mass systematic destruction of animal, plant and insect lifeforms
committed by our kind for the greater comfort of our kind?'
There is a silence followed by a crying
out; a most lamentable cry, saying,
'Could it be very possible that this is
all my faauulltt?
If I had acted differently could all of this have been avoided?
To what extent am I somehow totally responsible? And what of those
atrocities being committed now and tomorrow?'
Tears roll down onto his shirt, and seep
to the floor.
Through the terrible sobbing he continues with these words,
saying,
'There is the Great Universe, myself and
the troubles of this human-run world. The Great Universe is power. In a
very real and practical sense I have personally experienced this to be
the case. That I have not and do not actively share this fact with
others in a tangible, constructive and practical way could be the
primary reason why there have been and continue to be so many hideous
things taking place in the world.
It is all my faauulltt!'
Tears upon more tears.
The Misty
Knight sighting continues ... ... ...
And that Receptive in a translated form
is Misty Knight
~ a sighting of the sacred hearth.
Receptive
You've filled my eyes with tears, Rísteárd,
Rísteárd
(silently) Wonderful!
A listener with the heart.
Rísteárd
Most
fortunate are you, Receptive.
Receptive
Ninety-one floors up is a fare bit to be removed up from the ground,
Rísteárd?
Rísteárd
It is
indeed, Receptive no doubt, but how about they who live on the two
thousand and first floor even more so removed? And the same would be
true for those living in the two thousand and first floor down in the
basement.
Receptive
All in more ways than one. Isn't doodling a form of relaxation,
Risteárd?
Rísteárd
Doodling
here, Receptive refers to one's regular job whatever that may be. The
problem is one of indifference to the daily lives of others, especially
those in difficulty within our own communities about us in the valleys
and hills; in the towns and cities; in the countries and regions near
and far even within the same building. How many are they who living
within the same building do not even know their next-door neighbour's
name?
Receptive
One cannot live happily, Risteárd in these modern times, if
he or she is always concerned about others, especially those existing
in faraway, remote places. Taking the best of care of one's own family
is a full-time concern.
Rísteárd
However a full-time concern it may seem
to be Receptive it produces nothing more than the happiness of the
indifferent. The happiness of the indifferent is but a producer of
small happiness. Great happiness comes from having a compassionate
heart.
Receptive
If one was to be always thinking of others who are in worse
off circumstances than oneself is in, how can one possibly concentrate
on fully taking care of one's own family or even the bigger family
one's country?
... ... ...
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