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The forgotten power of ancestors, homelands, reconnection and healing what’s been buried on a recent pilgrimage to Ireland
“Ohhhh watch out these roads are dynamite” screamed Mary (my great aunty) in an endearing yet often undecipherable Irish accent…
She started waving her hands in the air in a mad panic as we approached the corner.
In Ireland, they decided it was appropriate to build bunker-like stone houses on already dangerous and “crash-ready” street corners.
Cars whizz by at hundreds of kilometers an hour on windy roads and you’re expected to start cautiously edging out because you cannot see a single thing.
These roads are essentially a daily roll of the dice for the locals of Kilkenny, Mullinahone and surrounding areas.
I think I lost count how many times I heard about someone dying or getting seriously injured casually dropped gently into everyday conversations.
That’s Ireland for you.
It’s a land that as my Irish cousin Eoin says, is a running comedy show that you’re lucky enough to have unfolding right before your eyes.
Things often don’t make much sense in a whimsical sort of way.
The country runs on a combination of folk-law mixed with a healthy dose of traditional common sense and a slightly radicalized sense of independence.
There isn’t much attention paid to the concept of time. Scheduling things is almost impossible with no one wanting to commit or stick to times.
Everything unfolds in its own way with space left often for spontaneity and extended hangouts with family, friends and whoever else decides to show up.
Billy’s sisters brothers boy for example…
We edged out onto the windy road, dodged an oncoming vehicle and sped off on the way to a small rustic town called Ballyglasheen.
Much to my Mums initial hesitance, I rented us a large car to have at least some peace of mind on these unpredictable Irish country roads.
Mary kept us entertained the entire way with a bottomless pit of stories about local acquaintances, the state of the roads, the weather, and anything else that would fill the void…
No periods of silence seemed to be allowed.
We were on our way to visit my great-uncle Jimsie. He’s been in a deteriorating state of health for some time now and recently took a turn for the worse.
He’d been moved to a local respite centre but his prognosis doesn’t look promising. It was sad and even deeply shocking to see this great man in a state of confusion.
He’d developed dementia and barely remembered who we were.
It was all a little too much in the end. We told him we loved him dearly and tried to reassure him that everything was going to be okay.
We left the respite centre feeling quite down knowing that was likely the last time we would see him…
Jimsie was one of the main reasons I wanted to visit Ireland with my Mum. I wanted to see him one last time in person before he moves onto a better place.
He looks remarkably similar to my grandpa Tom and shares many of the same mannerisms.
They even possess the same sense of wacky Irish infused humor and a larrikin nature.
Seeing Jimsie in many ways is like reliving certain parts of my grandpa Tom, even though he’s no longer with us.
Tommy was an inspiration to me growing up and in many ways, I still feel deeply connected to him and feel as though he’s often around watching over me…
After discovering that life in rural Ireland didn’t have much to offer him, he got on a boat to Australia in 1956 without much of a plan.
From all reports, he didn’t know anything about Australia at the time.
He simply took the gamble and must of been thinking that it can’t be much worse than staying in Ireland (haha…)
Tommy arrived in Melbourne and began working on the trams. I don’t know exactly what this means but I assume as a ticket inspector, a driver or a mechanic…
Shortly after moving, he met my Nanna, Patricia Miller and they got married soon after and had four amazing children. One of them being my Mum, Colleen.
He then gravitated towards teaching, something he was gifted at and no doubt felt internally guided towards…
A few years later received his college teaching degree and spent many years teaching Physical Education at a local high school called St Leo’s.
He also started coaching athletes at the local Box Hill and then Doncaster Athletics track after competing himself for many years.
He most notably won the international Seoul-Inchon Marathon in South Korea in 1961. The marathon celebrated the entry of United Nations forces into Seoul at the end of the Korean War. Representing Australia he defeated a strong field in hot, gruelling conditions in 2:40:25.2
The previous year he won the Victoria marathon championship in 2:39:51, and in 1960 and 1961 he won the Victorian Marathon Club marathon in 2:40:30 and 2:29:45, respectively.
Tommy was so talented at bringing out the best in people, both a athletes AND as people, that he had many of his pupils competing in the Olympics, World Championships and Commonwealth Games.
He coached many of these athletes from when they were children right through to adulthood. I have no doubts that he served as somewhat of a pseudo father figure for many of these athletes and a mentor/trusted advisor to many others.
Over the years, his coaching, guidance and wisdom impacted tens of thousands of people in the local community.
It’s as if he transcended coaching altogether and become somewhat of a spiritual advisor to the community.
Tommy helped many people navigate through dark times, drinking problems, drug problems and all sorts of other problems.
Tommy always found a way to bring out the best in people while casting zero judgement.
A “third place” is a neutral ground that provides informal public life outside of home and work. It's a space where people gather, build relationships, and connect with their community, such as a cafe, park, library or in this case, an athletics track.
A study by the University of Michigan even discovered that men that were part of “third place” communities suffered from depression at a rate of 50% less.
I have little doubt that Tommy succeeded in building such a place at the Tom Kelly Athletics Track and at many other places he frequented for that matter.
He always lived his life to the absolute fullest, had extremely high levels of energy, while displaying little fear of anything.
He was always pushing the bounds of what was possible. He had no fear starting something new and was somewhat of an innovator when it came to diet, nutrition and coaching athletes.
Tommy was also a pillar of strength and wisdom, not only in the physical sense, but in the emotional and even spiritual sense as well.
And he didn’t only serve as a beacon of strength and support for his own immediate family but for thousands of other people in the local community as well.
His entire life was built around serving a higher purpose than himself.
I don’t personally know many other people that have been able to make such a huge impact on almost anyone anyone they met… And on such a large amount of people too.
Many people who are second and even third degree connections know about him, his story, the impact he made and the legacy he left behind…
Still to this day, twelve years after his passing, hundreds of athletes from all over the city of Melbourne meet to celebrate and honor his life at the local athletics track.
Tommy truly did leave behind a legacy in every sense of the word. The local council even renamed the local athletics club after him.
One of the best things was that as he entered his seventies, his life started speeding up instead of slowing down.
He was continuously traveling through Europe with his twenty year-old athletes and popping up at all sorts of well-known public events.
He even went skydiving in the Swiss Alps at the age of seventy eight!
He then passed away suddenly in a hit and run incident in Mount Evelyn one night.
His body wasn’t discovered until the following morning and was a tremendous sudden shock to not only our family but for the entire community as well.
At the time of my grandpa’s passing, I was going through challenging times of my own and wasn’t able to handle it.
Inside of fully grieving, I retrospectively feel like I shoveled most of it under the surface instead of dealing with the grief in a head-on manner.
The grief lingered under the surface for many years until very recently where it came bubbling to the surface all at once.
During the Life Map exercise at one of our leadership retreats, I unearthed quite a lot of sadness that I’d held onto related to Tommy and his tragic passing.
With a want to both celebrate my grandpas life, reconnect with my ancestors lands and finally let go of the grief, I suggested to my Mum that we go on a pilgrimage to Ireland over the summer.
A pilgrimage is defined as a journey to a holy place, which can lead to a personal transformation, after which the pilgrim returns to their daily life.
The trip had a powerful grounding effect on me. It’s one week later and I feel like a completely different person. I feel much lighter and more connected so to speak.
For whatever reason, I feel much more deeply connected to Ireland and especially the lands of County Tipperary where much of my grandpas family grew up.
Technically the pilgrimage began bright and early in the desert mega city Dubai of all places…
I’d flown my Mum to Amsterdam on Emirates. I timed everything perfectly so I was able to turn up on her connecting flight in Dubai.
It’s safe to say that she almost had a heart attack when I suddenly appeared on the plane.
We flew to Amsterdam together and spent the entire flight hanging out and reconnecting after having not having seen each other for many months.
We then spent a few days in Amsterdam before flying off to Dublin.
The first part of the pilgrimage involved a two hour car ride to the quaint town of Kilkenny.
My Mum and I walked around the beautiful grounds of the old castle attached to the town. There was a majestic grassy knoll next to the castle grounds. The grass was the most vivid shade of green imaginable.
I felt compelled to do some grounding so I took off my shoes and socks and stood on the grass for ten minutes while overlooking the castle.
I took in many deep breaths and visualized spending time with Tommy. I then mentally relived some of the fond memories I had with him.
One of which was when we were turning into our driveway… Tommy turned to me and said “Matty… Wouldn’t it be funny if we crashed now” in a mischievous voice.
All of a sudden, some crazy lady came speeding out of nowhere and somehow literally crashed into the side of our car…
It was so ridiculous that it’s almost difficult to believe.
The entire grounding session was an almost out of body experience. I felt both shivers and goosebumps throughout my body at the same time.
All of sudden I felt intensely connected through my heart to both the land and my immediate ancestors. I could literally feel this heart connection…
I specifically noticed that night that my sleep was far deeper and my dreams were strikingly vivid (like entering another paradigm or dimension).
I woke up feeling mega energized yet a little apprehensive.
We jumped into the car and drove towards the place where Tommy was buried.
It’s located just out of the tiny town of Mullinahone, about one hundred meters from the house where Tommy grew up.
As we approached the cemetery, a quietness and slight tension engulfed the interior of the car.
I was a little nervous knowing what was to come.
There was little doubt that Mum was feeling even more intense emotions than I was.
We pulled up and got out of the car. At this point it’s like all concept of normal time disappeared. We had entered kairos time.
The cemetery is nestle in between hills so to speak. One one side, there are breathtaking views of the surrounding sprawling country side.
The hills sort of melt into the sky and it feels like you entered a majestic fairy tale. We walked slowly up to the cemetery being careful to savor the moment, sit with the feelings and really just being present with whatever came up.
We approached my grandpas grave. I stopped, paused and entered a deep state of reflection.
Tears started pouring out of nowhere.
Even as I am writing this there are still tears…
My Mum then burst into tears as well and we both hugged each other acknowledging the sadness of the moment while paying our respects to Tommy.
Mum then presented me with a letter with a powerful saying written by a priest that was featured at Tommy’s funeral.
I took the rest of the time to stand by Tommy’s grave and simply reflect. I touched the grave and suddenly got goosebumps.
Tears streamed down the sides of my face as I let everything out.
Thoughts started flowing in as if I was connected to something much deeper than myself. I began realizing there were many things in my own life that I wanted to change. And how deeply impacted I had been my Tommy’s passing.
After what felt like hours, I gently started walking back to the car where I found my Mum. We hugged again before heading off.
Words cannot describe much of this experience and some of it I consider too personal to even share. All I can say is that if you struggled with the passing of a loved one, I’d highly recommend this experience.
For me, it’s been profoundly healing, deeply impactful and almost like a complete life reset in many different ways.
As we drove out of the cemetery, I immediately felt much lighter and more as ease. It was as if the years of carrying around the grief connected to Tommy’s passing had been lifted.
I starred off into the horizon as we drove back towards Kilkenny, silence engulfed the car as both Mum and I no doubt entered a deep start of intensive reflection.
We spent the rest of the weekend hanging out with our family in and around both Kilkenny and Mullinahone.
A highlight was meeting my cousins Eoin and Sarah Kelly and their three amazing kids Connell, Rory and Eve at the local hurling club.
These kids are really unique and showed an intense curiosity and interest in us for such a young age. I was really impressed with them and spent quite a bit of time hanging out with Connell and his best friend Jack at the Hurling Club.
They even added me on Instagram after an starting liking all my photos (lol).
Hurling is a fierce sport native to Ireland.
Its played with somewhat of a derivative of a hockey stick as the players “hurl” a small ball around the field with the objective of scoring goals (that’s my extremely amateur description anyway).
We walked through the halls of the local hurling field where Sarah, Connell, Rory and their friend Jack showed us photos of my grandpa Tommy, Mum and my Uncle Michael hanging up on the wall.
It felt so warm and fuzzy to know Tommy is still both honored and remembered at the local Hurling club — of which he no doubt spent most of his time growing up.
We finished off the pilgrimage at Sarah and Eoin’s place.
They’d built a new house for their amazing family eight years ago on the same land that Tommy and his brother Jimsie grew up on.
It turns out that Jimsie owns many of the surrounding acres around the property and rents out the land to local cattle farmers… Ireland has some of the best grass-fed beef I’ve ever tasted by-the-way…
All the meals have a very homily feel to them with honey-covered roasted vegetables, lamb shank, soda bread, hearty stews, and many different cuts of meat paired with decadent desserts such as sticky toffee or bread pudding.
Sarah and Eoin showed us photos of my Tommy’s Dad, aka my great grandfather, James Kelly and his wife, Anastatia Kelly.
They then took us on a tour through the old dilapidated stone house that Tommy and his brothers and sisters grew up in.
This was an almost deeply haunting experienced as we all walked through the old stone house. Wind howled through the house and we all spoke about getting it restored to it’s former glory.
Before we knew it, the trip pilgrimage was over in the blink of an eye. My Mum and me drove out to Dublin Airport in the morning for our respective trips home.
We gave each other a big long hug at the airport before parting ways for a week.
I then tucked into one last plain scone with cream before getting drenched by the rain waiting to board the flight back to Amsterdam…
On the flight back, I got thinking about the concept of a homeland.
A homeland is a physical place.
It’s not a nationality or a citizenship. It’s a bond far deeper than some piece of government issued paper.
Which lead to me thinking that the majority of people have become quite disconnected from not only their homeland but their ancestors as well.
And reconnection with both your ancestors and homeland delivers many powerful and transformative benefits across every part of your life:
It keeps the legacy, stories, teachings and wisdom alive and handed down to the next generations
It helps you heal from certain traumas and blogged emotions
It empowers you to connect to a source greater than yourself
It connects and bonds your family closer together
It helps you feel safe and protected. Like guardians are watching over you
It provides a sense of being grounded
It helps you feel unshakeable in tough times
There’s little doubt to me that it contributes to success in ALL parts of life
Do some research and find an ancestor from your homeland who is honorable.
Maybe they are someone who inspired you, who played a large part in your childhood, who mentored you, or someone who helped shape who you are today.
They could even be an ancestor you never personally knew, yet from all accounts they were an inspiration and lived life for something higher than themselves.
If you can’t find anyone, then maybe you could find a warrior who fought to protect the freedom and wellbeing of your homeland…
Even if you come from a troubled family I can ensure you that there will be at least one person. You just need to look hard enough.
Then, hang up a photo of them in a place where you can see them.
And they can see you, every single day.
I think we can agree that hanging photos of ancestors and past warriors that inspire is is much healthier than hanging some poster of a vapid movie or music celebrity.
Then put their date of birth and date of death into your calendar.
Light a candle on their day of birth and on the day of their death.
Honor them with silence and by spreading the message of their legacy, wisdom, teachings and stories onto with others.
Never forget your ancestors.
They are a force for good. They will protect you from the evil eye. They will give your direction. They will give you discipline. They will give you willpower. They will deliver your inspiration in a time of need.
Reconnect to your ancestors. To your heritage.
To those people in your bloodline who came before you.
Who fought hard.
Who sacrificed and served this world.
They are waiting for you.
They want to help you.
They will honor your if you honor them.
Regrow your roots and you will stand tall in any storm.
This article is written in loving memory of my grandpa Thomas Kelly and one of the strongest women I know, my Nanna Patrica Kelly. May you both rest in peace. I know you’re always there every day for us and have moved on to the next life (or whatever lies next)… You can read more about the life of Tom Kelly here.