A Path to Home

Will you go, lassie, go?

The ruins of my great-grandmother’s croft, Galtrigill, Isle of Skye, Scotland

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IMAGINE

Imagine you’re from a small town. You’ve lived in this tight community all your life. Everyone knows everyone. If a local grandma hasn’t met you, the first question is “Who are your parents?” You must be placed in the proper familial constellation. Connections matter and there are unspoken rules that the locals know. To be from this place is to deeply understand the culture of the people who live there.

One day an Australian arrives and is seen scouring the town cemetery and taking photos. She knocks on your door proudly claiming to be your long, lost kin. She even has old photos of your grandpa. You see the bright dancing eyes of this stranger and before you can help it, you’ve invited her in for tea. You share family stories and compare photographs. A few hours pass. She hugs you goodbye and you carry on with your life. No big deal, right?

Hardly!

For this person, you can’t imagine how much your kindness and generosity meant. I can imagine, because I was the one who knocked on the door.

BELIEVE

I believe the Scottish Diaspora understands the longing to connect with *home*.

If you like statistics, consider that worldwide there are hundreds of highland games outside of Scotland in Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, France, Germany, the United States and more. The same is true for Burns Suppers. Scottish clan societies are active all over the globe and I myself proudly serve on the board of directors for the Clan MacKinnon Society.

We love our heritage. We celebrate it.

We feel something for the beauty, heart and soul of Scotland. We reach toward ideas of what it means to be Scottish with our nostalgic concoctions of kilts, tartan wear and quaichs. We dance, play bagpipes and drums. We wear T-shirts that say “Born in the USA, with Scottish roots”.

We go back to Scotland and B&B owners politely listen to our ancestral claims “I’m Scottish, Welsh & German”. Some poke fun at us. Some get outright annoyed. Many don’t understand. I’m not sure we fully understand ourselves. Why does Scotland pull us to her with such irresistible force?

Our ancestors moved halfway around the world to create a new life. Canada. America. Australia. New Zealand. We moved onto land that belonged to someone else and participated in creating something completely new culturally. How we speak, think, what we find funny and how we navigate life have all been influenced by the country of our birth.

In our adopted homes, we are no longer Scottish, but our love for our homeland is undeniable. Is it a DNA memory that is etched into our very blueprint like epigenetics would suggest? Is it past life memories? Is it growing up hearing the stories from our grandparents? Is it clinging to an identity more rich and full of history than our own?

For years I tried to define it or at least make sense of it. The love I have for the people and places of Scotland isn’t rational. The first time I crested the hill into Glendale on the Isle of Skye, I cried. In fact, every time I go there, my chest clutches with emotion to be in the village of my great-grandparents.

In Tacoma where I live, I absolutely love to listen to the bagpipes or the music of bands like Runrig, Skerryvore or The Laurettes.

The song A Path to Home by Skerryvore really hits the heart.

The shores and the coastlines glisten, with each wave breaking,
As our nation’s forgotten souls start their journey home,
With the sound of their heartbeat racing, the Clan’s begin embracing,
A bridge forever, a path to home.

Wherever we may go, our bloodline flows,
We’ll always find a path to home.
Our heritage and clans, pride in our land,
We’ll always find a path to home.

To follow ‘The Path to Home’ means to walk the hills that your great grandmother walked. To stand in the stone ruins of the croft house she was raised in. To see your relations in the town cemetery. It is to know you are from this place and to feel like the landscape remembers you, and you are welcomed home. The songs, the poetry, the Gaelic language is a part of you. It is to know that your people lived and worked the land, fished the sea, married, died, sat on the Manner’s Stone, and had a pew in the village Kirk.

I imagine it’s like an orphan meeting their birth parents to finally see the eyes, the shape of your chin, the build of your body. You belong. Nothing can replace the country of your birth, at the same time nothing can alter the connection you feel with your biological parents. I feel like this is how we the Scottish Diaspora feel. We are Canadian, American, Australian or French. We are also forever connected to our true heart’s home, Scotland.

DISCOVER

I’ve discovered that it doesn’t have to make sense logically. We get one life. It is up to us to do what makes us happy. Scotland makes me happy. I will continue to explore this incredible country and learn about the history, the people, the music, and the culture.

We should all do more of what we love! If you love Taylor Swift, the NFL or Dungeons & Dragons? Great. Go experience it fully. Go do it now and if they make fun of you, nod and smile and follow your bliss.

And if you love Scotland, I’ll see you there.

Imagine. Believe. Discover.

xoxo
Shannon

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