Phil Brennan

Posted on January 5, 2019

Posted in Phils Blog |

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Time for what matters

This time of year, we hear a lot about resolutions. Diets, treadmills, nutrition… it’s frenzied. The gyms are shaking to excess with the new recruits each January brings. We become fixated. If you’re not on the ‘bang’, somehow you feel left behind. I use the gym, place a value on personal fitness but veer towards the casual chats among my fellow Olympians than the rigours of pounding in rhythm with the cross trainer. Resolutions are good but prioritising what is of real value is more important.

It is good to take stock on occasion, to learn from what has gone before and map out internally what really matters to you. This first step – choosing a goal and sticking to it – can transform the course of what is to come. To stare into the unknown brings us face to face with our own deepest fears and insecurities. Yet it is here, when all that once defined us is gone, that we come to know ourselves. Have your compass points to guide you and do not look back. When you set realistic goals and set sail toward new horizons, you are engaging in a hugely creative act.

We in Waterford Camino Tours have been charting our course and anticipating how best to safely navigate the waters ahead. Our journey to date has been an adventure to say the least. We’ve shared the path with many great people, chosen a team we know we can work with and identified core strategies that will keep us tracking in the right direction. It’s not always easy. But the hard lessons often point us towards where we’re meant to be. The start of a new year is an ideal time to reconfigure your coordinates, narrow life down to the core essentials and let go of the rest.

We’ve come to realise that what matters most in an ever changing world is staying true to yourself. The tourism landscape is constantly evolving. It is possible to read the signs, adapt where necessary, yet remain true to your own guiding principles. You do not have to sell out to the world or compromise what really matters to you to succeed. People can pull you where you do not need to be. The inner voice is the one worth listening to. Trust your deepest instincts and then build your plans around people you know you can rely on. Doors will open in ways you least expect. You’ve got to believe!

Waterford Camino Tours is widening our reach going into 2019 and blending a series of iconic trails in Ireland into the range of options that we are offering to our visitors. Waterford will always be our base but this coming season will see us add stunning trails and cycles in Glendalough and Gougane Barra to our existing tours. Moving outside of Waterford is an exciting new departure for us. We are building slowly and carefully, step by step, and putting a value on what is of real importance to us as we go along. The formula is simple. Do things right, do them well. Slowly does it!

Waterford offers a tapestry of memorable experiences all woven into one; water cascading down the rocks from the Mahon Falls, the warm embrace of light as we leave the dimmed enchantment of the Durrow Tunnel behind on the Waterford Greenway, flowers daring to show their face across the sun-drenched headland of Dunmore East, the shimmering glow of the ocean as the sun sets on the Copper Coast… all stir something in us and connect us to the wonders of the universe in an unforgettable way.

What makes our Camino different is that we do not rush the journey. We take our time. Those who like to walk less or more can do so. It’s not about marching feverishly towards our destination. The steps in between matter! We stride to a new beat on Camino. Life can become so frantic, we can easily whiz by the smaller, often incidental, moments that make each day worth living. Stillness soothes the fretful stirrings of the mind and opens our pores to what might otherwise pass us by.

When you arrive at the Mahon Falls high up the Comeragh Mountains, you feel you’re on hallowed ground, a cathedral of stillness carved out of rock that dates back over 300 million years. It is good to slow down, soak in the vast kaleidoscope of contour and colour that opens up before us from the Falls to the sea beyond. We become miniscule spectators to something timeless in this mystical amphitheatre beneath the skies.

It is so good to be adding Glendalough to our Camino options for the coming season. It feels right. This place is a sacred space, captivating in its beauty and in its serenity. When you take the trail around the lakes, you sense you are walking in the steps of our spiritual ancestors. In the 6th Century on the lake shore, a Christian hermit named Kevin established a small monastic settlement. The ruins of this spiritual city still remain, with a magnificent round tower, a beautiful 11th Century stone church and the high cross which is over a thousand years old.

Glendalough has a mesmeric way of drawing us beyond the noise and confusions of life and easing our cadence to a gentle stroll. Peace rolls through these vales and time here lulls us almost unknowingly to somewhere deep within. This place re-charges the spirit and awakens us to something new. The universe has its own peculiar way of reminding us of what really matters. In Glendalough, the pulse slows right down and we begin to sense that we are not alone.

Gougane Barra too has its own magical allure. When you arrive, you are met with the natural beauty of the hills which tower over Gougane Barra Lake and the renowned St. Finbarr’s oratory nestled in the heart of this idyllic valley. Just behind the oratory are the remains of St. Finbarr’s monastery from the 6th Century, with beautiful old stations of the cross above the ancient prayer cells. As dawn rises to a chorus of birdsong, the sacred and the universe merge as one in perfect harmony.

During Penal Times, when public shows of devotion were forbidden, people made their way to Gougane Barra and gathered secretly around selected mass rocks that are the source of great reverence for pilgrims to this day. Walks here can vary in length and each provide a unique vantage point to survey the glen below and the great mountain wall that encloses it. We become temporary voyagers in a timeless odyssey, enveloped between what has passed and what is yet to come.

Camino trails in Waterford also connect to our rich Irish spiritual heritage. Visitors on our Camino will have time to walk a little of St. Declan’s Way, the ancient path that runs from the Rock of Cashel in Tipperary to the Cliffs of Ardmore in Waterford which dates back to the 5th Century. Along the way, ancient roads, ruined churches, monuments and follies abound, the secrets of our ancestors locked in their stones. Here on pathways trodden by millions over the centuries, pilgrims, traders, rogues, warriors and adventurers, we literally walk on the steps of those who have gone before.

Take good care of you as you blaze your own trail over the coming year. Life does not stand still. It passes quickly. Seize this moment! Venture out into new frontiers, through pathways unknown, and enjoy all that the journey reveals along the way. I’ll leave the last words to the Indian mystic Tagore; “I have spent my day’s stringing and un-stringing my instrument, while the song I came to sing remains unsung.” Dare to take that first step. Dare to sing your song!

Dr. Phil Brennan and his wife Elaine invite you to share in one of their specially tailored Caminos through Waterford County during 2019. The Waterford Camino experience blends walks/cycles, motivational talks and music. We will be adding the new Camino experiences mentioned above to our website over the coming week.

For further information, stay tuned to waterfordcamino.com or email Phil and Elaine directly at info@waterfordcamino.com

Phil Brennan

Posted on December 19, 2018

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‘Silent Night – 200 years on’

“My father played the melodeon
Outside at our gate;
There were stars in the morning east
And they danced to his music”
(‘A Christmas Childhood’, Patrick Kavanagh)

Christmas carols have the power to trigger memories buried in the archives of our past. The simplest of carols can stir something deep within. I’ve seen an elderly woman in a coma in a nursing home momentarily re-awaken and join us in song, noticed hardened men drawn to a space they thought they had left behind, viewed children transported on a musical odyssey back to the manger in Bethlehem, watched a homeless woman cradle the infant child drawing strength from within even in the bleak mid-winter.

Christmas time has its own magical allure. The lights, the gifts, the music, the myriad of sporting spectacles beamed live to our sitting rooms, the gatherings among family and friends, the scent of the turkey roasting in the oven, the frenzied shopping, the carnival atmosphere in town; all combine to create something wonderfully festive that eases us almost unknowingly through the dreariness of the Irish winter.

Beneath the layers of tinsel and chimes, lies the age-old story that gives meaning to it all. The star still shines, oft’ hidden and unnoticed, mystical, enduring, casting its unique aura across the universe, its glow only observable to the curious eye. The glimmering light draws us back to source, to where it all began.

Christmas without ‘Silent Night’ would feel incomplete. The poignant lilt of the harmonies woven through the haunting simplicity of the melody carries us on the deepest of journeys to a space within. It lingers long after the last note is sung. We awaken to the aching realisation that we are not alone… that our story is part of something timeless. In the moment, we are nudged into the mystery of it all.

The origin of ‘Silent Night’ is worth remembering. In 1818, a roving band of actors was performing in towns throughout the Austrian Alps. On December 23rd, they arrived at Oberndorf, a village near Salzburg, where they were to re-enact the story of Christ’s birth in the small Church of St. Nicholas. Given that the church organ was out of commission and would not be repaired before Christmas, the actors decided to present their version of the Christmas story in a private home.

One of audience, assistant pastor Josef Mohr, was inspired to reflect anew on the meaning of Christmas. Instead of walking straight to his house that night, Mohr took a longer way home. His fateful Camino took him up over a hill overlooking the village. He stopped to survey the peaceful, snow-drenched citadel of light below. Reveling in the majestic silence of the wintry night, Mohr gazed down at the glowing Christmas card-like scene. Time past and present froze in creative fusion. He intuitively adapted a poem he had written years previously to the play he had just seen.

Mohr enlisted the help of his friend, church organist Franz Xaver Gruber, to compose a musical setting for the poem that could sound well even without the church organ. Within hours they both sung ‘Stille Nacht’ at their Christmas Eve service before the small congregation in Oberndorf with the accompaniment of a guitar. It was beautifully understated, magical.

Christmas 1914 on the battlefields of Messines brings us face to face with the power of this simple carol. Picture the scene. Young men and boys sunk in the blemished mud of Flemish and French trenches, ears reverberating to the terrifying sounds of shells exploding before them with a deafening defiance – scarcely imaginable to spectators from afar. Germans on one side; the French, British and Irish on the other. Between them, ‘no man’s land’ littered with the spoils of war, a sordid premonition of the fate in store for up to 13,000 soldiers a day.

Yet, amidst the chaos, hope simmered fleetingly on the horizon. The German soldiers were sent Christmas trees from home and placed them above their trenches, numbing the oppressive doom that enveloped them. A strange confluence of dark and light rose from the shadowy mire. The luminous trail extended for miles, a seamless halo from afar that transfigured the wretched landscape. The soldiers were moved. They remembered their loved ones back home.

They momentarily forgot where they were. And then the German tenor sang ‘Stille Nacht’. Soldiers from both sides fearlessly opted to leave the relative sanctuary of the trenches and embraced their ‘foe’ as their own. Stories were told, cigarettes smoked, brandy consumed, even a football match was played. Once hostile voices merged as one in common humanity.

A young British soldier, Albert Moren, near La Chapelle D’Armentieres, France, recalled: “It was a beautiful moonlit night, frost on the gound, white almost everywhere; and… there was a lot of commotion in the German trenches and then there were those lights – I don’t know what they were. And then they sang ‘Stille Nacht’ – ‘Silent Night’. I shall never forget it. It was one of the highlights of my life.”

Against the bleakest of backdrops, a spark was lit and the shroud lifted. Humanity had become participants in the nativity story 1914 years on revealing the face of the infant Jesus to the world. Their song lingers on in the stillness of a darkened night. Hidden in the silhouette, their hushed murmurings can still be heard. The men of 1914 did not just remember the first Christmas; they lived out its meaning.

British historian, Piers Brendon, described the miracle of the Christmas Truce as “the most extraordinary celebration of Christmas since those notable goings-on in Bethlehem – a moment of humanity in the midst of carnage.”

I was privileged to travel to Messines in December 2014 with ‘The Island of Ireland Peace Choir’ to pay homage in song to the young men of the Christmas Truce on the 100th anniversary. It was deeply humbling to see the graves of two Irishmen side by side in one of the tiny cemeteries scattered across the furrowed fields. On one headstone: 24th of December 1914, Private Delaney; on the other, 29th of December 1914, Private Murphy. In between… the Christmas Truce. We remembered in silence and in song.

One person made a deep impression on all of us privileged to meet her. Marie -Therese’s home overlooks the site of the Christmas Truce and for the previous 80 plus years of her life has welcomed visitors with tea and cakes as a token of her appreciation of the journeys they had made. She knew the significance of all that had happened on this hallowed land not too many years before she was born and understood the need to remember. Marie-Therese beamed with delight when we sang ‘Danny Boy’ for her on a pathway alongside her home. Her smile touched us all. She radiated warmth of a precious kind. Their spirit lives on through her.

At the end of our concert that evening, we chose to give our Waterford Crystal vase to Marie-Therese, and not to the local dignitaries, much to the delight of almost everyone in the audience. We could see in her beautiful simplicity, in her resilient smile, in her resolute kindness proof of the power of human goodness to triumph even in those very situations that threaten its existence. Maybe, therein lies the message of Christmas.

Last Christmas, the ‘Island of Ireland Peace Choir’ performed this version of ‘Silent Night’ in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin. Hope you enjoy it. Elaine and myself would like to wish you all a peaceful and happy Christmas and everything you hope for in 2019.

“And the light shining from that star will show you who you are
And His light, shining with its might, will lead you through your darkest night.”
(‘The Star’, Kathy Mattea)

Dr. Phil Brennan is Founder and Musical Director of the ‘Island of Ireland Peace Choir’. Phil and Elaine invite you to share in one of their specially tailored Caminos through Waterford County during 2019. The Waterford Camino experience blends walks/cycles, spiritual reflection and music.

A video of the “Island of Ireland Peace Choir” performing in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin, can be found by clicking the link HERE.

For further information, check out our website on waterfordcamino.com or email directly at philbrennanjnr@googlemail.com

Phil Brennan

Posted on November 15, 2018

Posted in Phils Blog |

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“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step”

“How strange that the nature of life is change, yet the nature of human beings is to resist change. And how ironic that the difficult times we fear might ruin us are the very ones that can break us open and help us to blossom into who we were meant to be.” (Elizabeth Kubler-Ross)

The road less travelled can never be mapped out in advance. You cannot be sure what awaits as you make your way no matter how clear your coordinates. Yet it’s strangely liberating to come off the beaten track and feel the crisp sound of freshly fallen leaves beneath your feet. Your steps become more measured, your antennae more finely tuned. The habitual can dim the senses. The circuitous route often leads us to where we are meant to be.

Early morning by the river lulls us unknowingly beyond the fretful stir of the city. Here, 6 kilometers down the Waterford Greenway, the cadence slows down in unspoken harmony with the tranquil stillness of the Suir. All around you can see signs of what has gone before… the old railway line, Viking ruins shielded beneath its grassy vault, the graceful foliage of Mount Congreve Gardens 300 years on, the desolate ruins of an old watch tower desecrated by Cromwell and his troops in times gone by. We become temporary voyagers in a timeless odyssey. 

In the silence, you can feel the spirit of those who have gone before. Beneath the mossy banks lies a sign that reads: “Here is the place where the fishermen stopped to have a cup of tea before they made their way to Ballygorey.” Their faint murmurings can still be heard. The moorings too, almost camouflaged in their green overgrowth, remind us of a time when farmers loaded their livestock onto the awaiting barges to sail with the tide into the city 4 miles downstream. Their work was done along the quays, maybe a drink or two consumed to mark the sale, before the turning tide would bring them safely home again. Humanity and nature – in perfect sync!

The Dunmore East Cliff Walk is perched above the village in silent homage to those who have passed this way for centuries. 200 years ago, young men from neighbouring Portally, Ballymacaw and Rathmoylan walked this very path to excavate boulders of rock from the cliff below as they sculpted the harbour we have today. Here, on the new footbridge beneath the cliff, we come face to face with curious remnants of a bygone time; footsteps, railings, carved rock – the railway line from the cliff to the harbour has all but disappeared. It’s good to pause on occasion and listen. Faint strains echo through the citadel of stone to calm the stirrings of the passer by.

No one person embodies the history of a place more than Tom O’ Mahony. 36 km down the Waterford Greenway, O’ Mahony’s pub defies the gravitational pull of modernity. Tom’s casual, languid style is in keeping with his quaint surrounds. Here in this hallowed place untouched by time, we sense we are at home. Pictures of another age adorn the walls, like speckled reels on a film, drawing us beyond the world we once knew. A cuppa does not come easily around here. Tom rings inside to the kitchen and his wife Helen will arrive out minutes later with tea/coffee/biscuits on separate trays for each of our visitors. Wouldn’t change it for the world!

Tom and his wife have resisted the advancements of today for age old decency, hospitality and kindness. The Greenway has seen the former railway line outside his door reverberate to the beat of times passed. Fair days of old are the stuff of lore around here. Carriages thronged with livestock would depart early morning from Durrow Station on a Monday and Thursday and by evening tired and thirsty men would retreat homewards. Time with Tom over “a pint and a half one” brought ceremonial closure to the sales of the day. Nostalgia falls gently in these places. In a world that makes you push for more, this man is simply happy with what he’s got.

Unscripted events make life worth living – moments that happen in ways we least expect. When we venture outside our normal frontiers, we tend to meet people who help us to see more clearly. Brendan Glody is one such man. Brendan leads our boat trips out from the harbour in Dunmore East along the coast. The kettle is always ready to boil as we board the ‘Keltoi Warrior’. We’d have our cuppa and listen to the waves lapping against the brow of the boat oblivious to the world beyond our immediate gaze. Time with Brendan is precious time!

On a recent boat trip, we anchored at the isle for a while in the relative calm of the Bay. Brendan regaled our visitors with fishing stories of old and recalled a particular night off the West Coast when his own boat sank and he and his mate had only a raft to cling to. Their fate depended on one flair they had salvaged from the sinking ship. At the very moment they released it to the sky, a fisherman 3 miles away took a breather from sorting his catch and spotted the red hue shoot across the darkened canvas. It was written in the stars!

Asked by one of the group how he felt as he and his mate drifted perilously for hours that evening, Brendan’s response was revealing. “I’d have liked a bit more time to say goodbye. All that flashes through your mind are those you love most – your family. The rest doesn’t matter. Then, without even thinking about it, a kinda peace came over me. That was it really. I was ready.” Little did Brendan know that the person who asked the question had herself lost her husband tragically in an air accident in the Blackstairs Mountains only 2 years ago. His story was reassuring beyond words.

Leaving the sanctuary of the harbour brings with it considerable risk. To navigate the stormy seas you have to trust your deepest instinct, your gut, and simply hang in there when the tide turns. You know you’re going to be tossed about a bit as you wade your way through the turbulence, but you’ll find the reserves within when you need them most. Only when we’re tested do we realise what we’re made of.

I’ve been following the story of former 2fm and Lyric fm presenter Gareth O’ Callaghan with real interest in recent months. Gareth has been diagnosed with Multiple System Atrophy, a rare debilitating illness that can cause rapid degeneration of muscle tissue. Reflecting on an agonising muscle spasm that he had to contend with the previous night, Gareth had this to say in one of his regular posts:

“I suppose in that moment of unfamiliarity in the darkness last night at 4am, I found a different strength… coming from somewhere within. I was experiencing a challenge that was being thrown at me that I had no choice but to face head on… Fear focuses you to be nothing other than what and who you truly are so that you can pass through this terrifying experience; and in its aftermath to feel the newborn layer of strength and resilience that grows deep within you.”

Gareth’s waning sinews have not crippled his spirit. He lives by a simple mantra – connect within and the world becomes brighter. He lights the way for all of us.

Each one of us have a song to sing in the wider symphony of the universe. We may be miniscule in the greater scheme of things, but what we do with our lives here and now does matter. Courage is not the absence of fear but a willingness to walk through fear in the pursuit of something better. Life is fleeting. Seize the moment, take that first step off the beaten track, lest it pass you by.

* Title quote by Lao Tzu

Dr. Phil Brennan and his wife Elaine invite you to share in one of their specially tailored Caminos through Waterford County during 2019. The Waterford Camino experience blends walks/cycles, motivational talks and music.

For further information, check out our website on waterfordcamino.com or email directly at info@waterfordcamino.com

Phil Brennan

Posted on October 16, 2018

Posted in Phils Blog |

5 Comments |

Through the Storm

“What will matter is not what you bought but what you built, not what you got but what you gave… What will matter is not success but significance. What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage or sacrifice that enriched, empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example.” (Michael Josephson)

I can still see her face as she gazed adoringly at her 4 year old child. There were tears in her eyes betraying a silent torment that she had endured for years. Her son had been bravely battling cancer and the latest tests were encouraging. Love and pain merged beautifully to light up a once darkened room. Hope soared with fragile ease from her world to ours. We were drawn unconsciously to her every move, private spectators to a courage that stirred us to the core.

We had been singing at ‘Light it up Gold’ for The Childhood Cancer Foundation. The children played with pure abandon oblivious almost to the fuss around them. Laughter and song rippled out with stoic resolve into the awaiting arms of their loved ones. The lens of time had narrowed down to this one precious moment. I tried in vain to understand what their parents were going through. Their kind of love was summoned from somewhere deep inside, their bravery humbling.

We see it every day, ordinary people dealing with crushing blows in life but somehow finding the strength to wade their way through the storm. These people reveal something about each one of us. We humans are more than what the outward eye can see. It is what is on the inside that defines who we really are. Suffering drives us deeper to unearth hidden reserves we never knew existed. Gold refined by fire has a tenacity to match its glow.

I came across a true story recently that inspires on so many levels. 300 years ago, the Burmese army planned an attack to invade Siam (Thailand). The Siamese monks were in possession of the most amazing Buddha statue; 10 feet tall, in excess of 2.5 tons in weight and made of solid gold valued today around 200 million euro. Like those who passed before them, these monks viewed themselves as temporary custodians to a timeless treasure that would endure to the last. Given the monetary value of the statue, they knew the army would desecrate it and reap its spoils for themselves. They decided to cover the Buddha in 12 inches of clay to camouflage its true worth.

When the Burmese army arrived, all the monks were slaughtered. Everything was in ruins but the clay Buddha stood resolute having escaped the clutches of the unsuspecting pillagers. There it remained for centuries with its golden core hidden from generations of monks and visitors beneath its furtive disguise. In the mid 1950s, almost 250 years later, the monastery was to be re-located to make room for a highway. The monks arranged for a crane to come to move the clay Buddha to their new residence. To their surprise, the crane began to crack with the weight so they waited for a day for more powerful equipment. They covered it with plastic sheets to protect it from the oncoming monsoon rains.

That night, the head monk went out to check if their sacred statue was still standing. He was worried that the crane would have shaken the clay Buddha to the point of collapse and feared it would not survive the storm. When the light of his torch shone into the crack of the clay, he saw a glimmer… a reflection of something underneath the cloud of clay. He started to carefully carve away the shards of clay to find the glimmer grew brighter.

He rushed indoors to call the monks from their slumber. Together they chiselled with painful precision, inch by inch, until all was revealed. They marvelled in disbelief at the gleaming gold sculpture before their eyes. The statue was re-located to Bangkok where it resides in the Temple of the Golden Buddha. Every year, millions visit to worship at his feet. And to think it may never have been discovered.

“The purpose of life is to remove the layers so that more of the gold within us can shine and see the light of day. And the exciting thing is that every act of courage, every act of goodness will have an immediate pay off for you. Each time you do what you know is the right thing and follow your truth rather than the dictates of the crowd, a little more of the mud covering up who your truly are begins to fall. Each time you act with love rather than fear you become more of who you were meant to be. Every time you reach for your dreams, you begin to play your highest game and reach out towards your destiny” (Robin Sharma)

The modern world is consumed by how things appear on the outside. It is hard to resist the lure of the latest digital advancements or fashion accessories that flash up on our screens each evening. The transient glimmer fades fast in light of what tomorrow will bring. iPhone change from 6 to 7 at the speed of knots as the old gives way to new within months. The ground shifts in silent collusion with the prevailing winds. We drift trance-like from one conquest to the next searching for the Holy Grail that lies agonisingly beyond our grasp. Meanwhile the inner world goes unnoticed hidden beneath the trappings.

The problem with external power is that it is fleeting: when you lose the money, position and possessions, you lose the power. If you have tied your identity to those things, you will also lose a sense of who you are when they fall away. Life tends to draw us all back to source – to the power that comes from within. Faint whispers echo through the inner vault and we are reminded that we are part of something greater than ourselves.

Ten years ago, I saw things a little differently to how I do today. I lived life in the fast lane, taking on one challenge after another and rarely slowing down to find my bearings for life beyond business. Once on the treadmill, I moved at pace in feverish pursuit of my latest goal, running, running… running to standstill. My plan was to build a 7-Screen Cinema in my hometown of Gorey, sell it on to an operator and then turn my attention to developing the surrounding site into a very modern leisure amenity for the town. Everything was on track… well so I thought.

A turbulent economic storm loomed on the horizon, almost unannounced. I could see the signs and desperately tried to sell before it wreaked its havoc. Within months, my site had devalued by over 5 million euro and I was left stranded with crippling debts that I could not sustain. I was powerless to withstand the torrent and felt buffeted about by life forces beyond my control. Everything I lived for at that time was being obliterated before my eyes. Not for the first time in life I had to ‘dig deep’. Not for the first time, I struggled to hold it together.

The next few years were a nightmare; dealing with the banks, selling the cinema to an operator who dragged out the retention fees on the build for 4 years in the hope that I’d be bankrupt and he wouldn’t have to pay, and ultimately parting with my own home in Waterford so that I could clear my debt and move on with my life. I could lie and pretend I found a strength from day one. I didn’t. It was a dark time. I was staring into an abyss from which there seemed no return. I slowly picked up the pieces.

“And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life. Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way… The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity” (J. K. Rowling, prolific author in her Harvard commencement speech 2008)

Good friends became priceless to me. More than anything, they kept believing in me even when I was inclined to doubt. I remember one such friend, Helen, telling me after a tennis match “you know you should go back to college and do a PhD. If I could do it, you can.” I laughed and didn’t for a second believe that I would. I still look back with incredulity wondering how I did it. I’ve learned to build my life around people who are genuine and true and to let go of the rest. The key is to try to give back a little of what you have received. The formula is simple really but you have to push yourself beyond your comfort zone to make it happen.

Above all, I guess I learned to slow the pace right down on occasion and connect to something deeper. Tramore became my haven; swimming in the Guillamene, walking around the sand dunes, looking out across the bay from the Doneraile – with a true companion by my side. Waves rolled into shore from the seas beyond stilling the spirit of the silent listener. The spark within was lit by all that was around me. From here there was no turning back.

“Starting today, learn more, laugh more and do what you truly love to do. Do not be denied your destiny. For what lies behind you and what lies in front of you matters little when compared to what lies in you.” (Robin Sharma)

Dr. Phil Brennan and his wife Elaine invite you to share in one of their specially tailored Caminos through Waterford County during 2019. The Waterford Camino experience blends walks/cycles, motivational talks and music.

For further information, check out our website on waterfordcamino.com or email directly at info@waterfordcamino.com

Phil Brennan

Posted on September 28, 2018

Posted in Phils Blog |

11 Comments |

Dear Pope Francis

3rd September 2018

Dear Pope Francis,

I am writing to you as someone who is struggling to make sense of it all. Over the past decade, I’ve stepped back a little from the Church and find myself very much on the outside looking in. I’m equally aware of the widening gap between my own spiritual journey and the glaring anomalies of an institution that has betrayed its own people so badly. There are thousands of others like me, still searching, still aspiring to higher ideals, still looking to the universe and discovering something new and magical with each new day. Outside the walls of old, we begin to see more clearly.

Your arrival here stirred the deepest of reactions. You walked among us with real grace; your smile, your humility, your compassion shone like a beacon in the darkness. Many sang a new song in your honour. Yet, for others, your presence was met with stiff resistance as a beleaguered people still struggle to see beyond the savage pain wreaked on all too many at the hands of the church you now preside over. Our experience of church has scarred the collective consciousness of our nation. Most of us, myself included, lie somewhere in the middle, torn between irreconcilable sides, wanting to believe again but feeling totally estranged from a church that has let us all down. I looked at your face. I could sense the pain. You made a promise to act. I believe you will.

Now more than ever Pope Francis I think you need to trust your deepest instincts. In our darkest hour, wediscover something new about ourselves. You know only too well that in those very moments when we’re stripped of what once defined us, we can discover primordial reserves of courage to see us through. The revolution of love you speak of starts out from the innermost point of our being. In the stillness of the night, listen to your heart. A voice cries in the wilderness and draws us back to where we belong. Your people have spoken. Their pain struck the deepest of chords in you. Now is the hour to atone.

You are the one that can lift the lid on a grotesque underworld of abuse that has been systemic in the Catholic Church for decades. The shocking nature of these crimes and the subsequent cover up reveal a church that, up to now, has turned away with such cold indifference. Your time with survivors has brought you face to face with their ongoing, unrelenting torture. The horror of it all is etched deep within all of us; infants buried in septic tanks, countless children stripped of their innocence so savagely, many more exploited by “religious” whose actions make a mockery of everything they claim to believe. Somewhere along the line, the church strayed so far off course that it has now totally lost its bearings. You cannot navigate the tempestuous waters on your own but you can steer the ship back in the right direction.

Too many have suffered. Their interminable hurt can be eased if you deliver on your promise. Nothing will heal their wounds but taking decisive steps to ensure that justice is done is a start. You know this yourself. Your words before Mass in Phoenix Park gave us all a glimpse of your inner turmoil after meeting with survivors. You know those who perpetrated crimes must be held accountible: “We ask forgiveness for the time that as a church we did not show the survivors of whatever kind of abuse compassion, in the seeking of justice and truth and concrete actions.” Your plea for forgiveness, no matter how genuine, only becomes credible if it is matched by a clear resolve to overhaul the system that permitted, and often camouflaged, these crimes in the first place. The truth screams out at us for change. From here there is no turning back.

You will need to confront head on those very forces that have been opposed to your reform from the start. You see Pope Francis, there are some on every level of the clerical ladder who have hidden behind a veneer of piety for years now and have created their own myopic culture of power and self-preservation. They have become a law onto themselves. Whilst there are many good men and women in positions of service in the Church who live out the Gospel they proclaim to the world, others wallow in a cocoon of self-importance with scant regard for anyone but themselves. We all know them. They are the ones who dig in their heels, who discourage creative expression, who dictate from on high, who doggedly resist change. In the meantime, the story of the carpenter from Nazareth has all but slipped from our view and the true identity of the church in the world remains blurred beyond recognition.

Taking on this culture is not going to be easy. You’ve lived with this for some time now. You need to know that you are not alone. You must draw your strength from your people, especially those hidden in the shadows who bring out the very best in all of us. I could see how you came alive among the homeless men, women and children you met in the Capuchin Day Centre for homeless people in Dublin. Their spirit touched something deep in you. You could see in them the truth about humanity in its barest form; what matters most for them is the love of family, keeping the faith no matter how great the adversity, retaining a sense of humour in life against all the odds. You mingled with them, listened to their stories, held their hands, embraced them as your own. Their brokenness and yours merged as one.

In a spontaneous moment, almost hidden from glare of the cameras, you could sense that you were part of something mystical. Here in the hallowed sanctuary of a Homeless Day Centre, your vision of Church was laid bare amidst the fragile hope of a suffering people. The truth had been revealed in the faces before you and it flowed unscripted as you addressed Br. Kevin and his fellow Capuchins: “You have a special understanding of the people and the poor especially. You have the grace of contemplating the wounds of Jesus in those in real need… For you these people are the flesh of Christ. This is your witness and the Church is in need of your witness.” Your words rose beautifully from the mire, sprinkling light across a tinged landscape.

Pope Francis, there is a need for new energies in a church grown weary. It is time to open the shutters and let in some fresh air. People here are no longer waiting on pronouncements from on high. They are seizing the initiative and running with it. A plethora of new ways of being church is opening up before our eyes; Gospel choirs, Taizé vigils, social justice groups, food kitchens for the homeless, care for the earth movements, meditation and mindfulness workshops, sports clubs… the list goes on. Hope is stirring outside the boundaries of old.

If the church is to have a future here, it needs to connect to what is happening outside its walls. People who have languished on the sidelines for too long must be welcomed back centre stage and encouraged to play a leading role in mapping out where we go from here. Women need to be central to this process. To date, their capacity to transform the church has been rendered obsolete in a male-dominated bureaucracy that will not yield. There is a reservoir of creative talent waiting to be tapped. Open the floodgates and let the waters of real change flow. When a once silenced people begin to find their voice, anything is possible. Then the aspiration of a new dawn moves one step closer.

A thought struck me as I walked through Crough Woods at the foot of the Comeragh Mountains here in Waterford at the time of your visit. The silence was beautifully interrupted by the soothing sounds of the Mahon River as it meandered its way from the falls above to the ocean below. I was lulled gently into a reflective space. Shielded in the shade, the sun glimmered in a way I had not noticed before. As the waters flowed by with unwavering purpose, it dawned on me that all that has gone before us does not define us. What is yet to come can complete the story. Nature has a way of guiding us home. Pope Francis, your heart knows the pathway of your destiny. I wish you well on your journey.

Be assured of my thoughts and prayers,

Respect,

Dr. Phil Brennan
(Founder and Musical Director of the Island of Ireland Peace Choir/Author ‘In the hands of the people – a new vision of Church’)

Island of Ireland Peace Choir; www.islandofirelandpeacechoir.com

Phil Brennan

Posted on August 27, 2018

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Let your light shine

“Circumstances do not make the person, they reveal the person. We’re not responsible for the cards we are dealt but we are responsible for how we play them. It’s not how you start. It’s how you finish.” (Cathy McCarthy)

The journey of life takes many twists and turns. We never quite know what’s around the corner. One minute you’re free-wheeling downhill without a care in the world. The next, you have to muster whatever strength you’ve left simply to deal with something you never saw coming. The cards we’re dealt can fall either way. How we respond reveals who we are. Through the tempest, we find ourselves.

Often, it is the unlikely one who shows us the way. If we’re lucky, we’ve all met one such person; someone who has experienced the ebbs and flows of life and is never found wanting when the going gets tough, someone content to fly below the radar rather than follow the dictates of the crowd no matter what way the dice rolls, someone whose love and courage ripples out from within and changes lives, almost unknowingly. The unheralded ones leave their mark in ways we only fully appreciate when they’re gone!

One such person passed from this world this week at the tender age of 37. Amy packed so much into her short life. I was once her teacher yet she taught me more than I could ever teach. She was the wise one. She knew what mattered and stayed true to her course ‘til the very end. Amy Hearne was unique yet we all know an Amy. How she finished her days says everything about her. Long may her light shine!

I’ll start at the end. No better place in this case. Amy had everything about her funeral planned to a tee; the music, the eulogy, the party afterwards. Behind that casual veneer was a determined and focused young woman who knew what she wanted. As I stood up to say my few words, I could sense her orchestrating everything from above. Laughter, tears, sadness all spilled out into the crimson skies at the end of a memorable day.

Amy was diagnosed with cancer over 3 years ago. 3 surgeries later and many episodes of unspoken pain, she knew deep down the odds were stacked against her… yet her spirit never waned. She never gave up. The nurses in Medical 4 at University Hospital Waterford struggled to keep her there. Even when she had to stay overnight, she’d be up ordering pizzas for them ‘til all hours. It was Amy’s way of saying thanks. In her darkest hour, Amy drew on reserves of kindness that knew no bounds.

“We are not supposed to stay wounded. We are supposed to move through our tragedies and challenges and to help each other move through the many painful episodes of our lives. Wounds are the means to receive through which we enter the hearts of other people. They are meant to teach us to become compassionate and wise.” (Caroline Myss)

You see Amy in school was never the most academic. She was a prisoner within a system that reined in her true potential. Amy was always a free spirit. Still is! With ingenious ease, Amy would hatch escape routes from the monotony of the classroom below the radar of her unsuspecting teachers. Once she stepped onto a soccer pitch, everything changed. Amy started to express herself with pure abandon. She came alive.

She never let anyone down on the field. She’d leave it all out there tackling anyone that came near her with a ball, even her own team mates on occasion, anything to keep the dream alive. I witnessed many opposing forwards run for cover at the sight of her. I would have! No surprise then, the St. Angela’s reached an All Ireland Senior Schools A Final within 3 years. Amy led the way!

Amy was beginning to realise that when you find something you love doing and invest all your energies into it, anything is possible. She went on to become a founding member of Johnville Ladies Soccer Team in her beloved John’s Park on the edge of the city. She and her friend Trish drove around Waterford Estates recruiting any female who could walk until they could field a team. It took them 20 games before they scored a goal. Within 3 years, they were Senior League and Cup Champions. Raw hunger can go a long way!

After running her own Sports Store in The Hyper, Waterford and developing her horticulture prowess in a nursery in Faithlegg, Amy ended up moving to Darwin, Australia. She found work with the McCarthur River Mine, MRM, and within months became Environmental Officer for their entire enterprise. Her work involved teaching native Aborigines how to re-claim the land after mining. She showed them how to plant and re-plant to the point that they could re-generate once barren landscapes. She had found her higher purpose.

This is what an MRM work colleague and friend, Gary, had to say about Amy this week: “You lifted the performance level within the team due to your enthusiasm and need to do things well. You were never shy of putting in the hard yards and getting it done. Even after several years, I found it hard to understand your accent although after a while your expressions were enough for me to know what was going on. You started the nursery on site with your background in horticulture and it’s a pity you cannot see how far it has come now. You will be missed Amy.”

Amy loved her dogs and fostered one in Australia, Rhonda, and another in Waterford, Mel. Malnourished, scared, abandoned when discovered, they found a loving home with her. Mel has been pining for her since. Amy even got her own greyhound, ‘Raytown Amy’, who continues to light up Kilcohan Park on Saturday nights. Unbeaten there to this day! Amy lived by a simple mantra… be kind, be sound, keep an eye out for others and you’ll be the better for it yourself. This is her legacy to all of us left behind!

“No need for temples or complicated philosophies. My brain and my heart are my temples. My philosophy my kindness” (Dalai Lama)

Amy and I walked the Greenway a few months back. Just for that fleeting moment, we knew we were part of something greater than ourselves. There we were; Amy, her sister Gemma and close friend Trish… chatting, laughing, wallowing in the warmth of the morning sunshine. It was as though time stood still. Yet the River Suir rolled nonchalantly onwards into the awaiting arms of the city beyond. Each melodic movement that was playing out before us blended beautifully into a wider symphony. Though little was said, we all sensed it.

Times of trial bring us beyond our normal threshold. Amy asked so many questions that day. She was staring the incomprehensible in the face. She knew that in life we can be cruising along and in an instant, everything can change… forever. She knew just how quickly the tide can turn, just how savage once benign waters can become when the storm sets in and she was trying to make sense of it all.

Amy was coming near the end of her journey. We couldn’t say it but she could. Her search for meaning led her to a place she never knew existed, somewhere deep within. In the silence of the night, whilst the rest of us slept, Amy unravelled the layers and arrived at a vital truth… that love, that basic human kindness, can conquer everything, even her deepest fears. She lived by this formula to the very end. What was always there was unleashed to the world in all its brilliance during her final months.

Rebecca captures that ‘spark’ in Amy that we’ve all experienced: “Irish, you were one of a kind and an amazing friend, by far the most generous of souls in every possible way. The last 3 years you fought and you did it with grace, determination, humour… you encountered everyone along the way with love. The world has lost a charismatic energy of light and I will miss you no end”.

Above all, Amy made us laugh. She never took herself or life too seriously and made sure the rest of us didn’t either. I never laughed as much as I did when I was in her company. What she had was infectious. Teaching Amy was one of the greatest challenges of my life and I came out of class each day… laughing. She’d smirk up roguishly, probably secretly plotting her next escape, yet I knew even then I was the privileged one to be in her company.

Amy has bowed out from this world. Light has faded in the aftermath but we still sense its glow. On the pitch of life, when it really mattered, this woman fought with tenacious courage and won. I can hear her whisper to me, and to all of us, as the waves caress the shoreline. In the stillness, her faint murmurings can still be heard…

“For what it’s worth, it is never too late to be whatever you want to be. There’s no time limit. Stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again” (Eric Roth ‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button)

Special thanks to Mary, Noller, Gemma, Cliff, Patti and Paula and Amy’s many relatives and her amazing friends in Ireland and Australia for looking after Amy so well over the past few years. To Trish, Lucy and all the soccer team at St. Angela’s and to Laura and her teammates at Johnville Ladies F.C., give the soccer one more year… just for Amy!

*******

Dr. Phil Brennan and his wife Elaine blend walks/cycles, motivational talks and music into their Camino experience around Waterford.

For further information on Waterford Camino, follow us on our Waterford Camino Tours facebook page or contact Phil and Elaine on info@waterfordcamino.com Their new website will be launched in early September at www.waterfordcamino.com