Tuesday, November 1, 2011

My Heart's in the Highlands


“My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart’s in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,
My heart’s in the Highlands, wherever I go.”
-Robert Burns


Scotland. Where do I begin?

I suppose I shall begin at the beginning – the 8:00 am train ride to the beautiful city of Edinburgh. I settle in to the surprisingly comfortable seat and sleepily gaze out at the vivid green landscape of the English countryside…but I can’t quite seem to relax. A girl nearby is talking, rather loudly, to her mother on the phone. Trying to end the call, the girl quickly explains that she needs to begin reading Shakespeare’s King Lear. Apparently, her mother had problems hearing her. I certainly didn’t.

“I have to read King Lear.”

“Mom. King Lear.”

“Kiiiiiiiing Leeeeeaaaar.”

“King Lear? King Lear?! KING LEAR!!!”

Lovely.

Four hours later we arrived in Edinburgh. Unbeknown to me, Scotland is a humble, and oft unrecognized, cradle of modern civilization. Scots are responsible for the invention of golf, the television, the telephone, the bicycle, the steam engine, universal standard time, radar, criminal fingerprinting, the refrigerator, AND flush toilets, just to name a few.

Scotland also has a wee artistic side to it. (Did you notice I said ‘wee’?) Scottish musicians include Annie Lennox, Franz Ferdinand, The Fratellis, Snow Patrol, and KT Tunstall. Most importantly though, Scotland has given birth to some of the finest actors in Hollywood: Gerard Butler (my personal favorite), Sean Connery, and Ewan McGregor.

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Yet, the following day, as we travel from Edinburgh into the majestic Highlands, I realize that Scotland’s most valuable claim is not penicillin, not television, not even – dare I say it – Gerard, but rather, its mysterious power to transcend time and space.


Driving through the Monadhliath Mountains past stunning lochs, I watch as the mist hangs low over the mighty mountain crags. Along the winding slopes, the rusty heather sways lazily in the wind. And through the rain-speckled window, the turning trees blur into a blazing kaleidoscope of fiery color.

I’m rooted within the present and the past, the real and the fantastical. Is it Caledonia? Am I en route to Hogwarts? Have I stumbled upon Middle Earth?


One experiences a certain feeling of timelessness wandering through the hills and plains. I felt neither young nor old – just human. People had roamed the land thousands of years before me and people will continue to walk that land long after I’m gone. The land is a constant. Time might go on, people might come and go, but that land will always be the link connecting the past to the present and the present to the future. It’s a living, rustic, colorful example of everlasting beauty.


Experiencing this natural, and yet unnatural beauty, also helped me understand why authors, like JK Rowling, were so heavily inspired by the surrounding Scottish scenery. There’s no way NOT to be inspired. The stunning stone architecture, the black, looming mountains, and the rolling hills of green evoke a magic that bewitches the imagination. Add to this Scotland’s colorful past – an extraordinary mixture of Highland warriors, clan rivalries, murders, outlaws, and epic battles. One of the stories I found most entertaining to imagine in my head was that of a Highlands tribe of hulking men, painted blue from head to toe, who rather enjoyed charging into battle stark naked. I can only imagine the stunned faces of the invaders as they watched a whole tribe of blue, naked men with massive battleaxes running down the hills towards them. Indeed, real life is often stranger than fiction.





 Though we don’t always realize it, the stories of fantasy and magic in “other worlds” are often inspired and based upon the magic of real places, real situations, real people. Scotland is one of those places. The power of the mountains has humbled me. The vibrant flora has inflamed my mind. The icy breeze has pierced my soul. I’ve entered into a place of magic and communed with the land. That communion is eternal.

I’ll forget the names of the building and monuments. I’ll forget the stories. I’ll forget the people I was with. 

But I’ll never forget how I felt – that will never fade away. 

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To see my complete album of Scotland pictures, please follow this link:


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