In some ways, it feels like it was centuries ago when I started researching what was to become the book, Between Worlds. Like its heroine, I too was pulled over to The Green; that mystical, often magical, frequently haunting place known as Ireland. It is truly a land of layers, of stories, of polarities, and of love. Ireland is a door to the heart. After years walking its pathways, I’m convinced of that. But like any magnificent door, it requires a key, and finding the key to the heart of Ireland becomes a journey in itself.
There is a saying that some places make you pay your dues. For me, Ireland was one of them. Of course once you do, there is no end to what they might tell you. And once you do, they never quite let you go.
Birthing Between Worlds, finally, is for me a give-back. It is a story that so deeply wanted to be told that it yanked me clear across the Atlantic to follow its trail, plunked me at the edge of Glendalough, and demanded that I listen. Had I known the journey it would take me on, perhaps I would never have gone. But that’s the force of such things, isn’t it. To tempt and tantalize, envelop and immerse you to such a degree that you find yourself heading off a proverbial cliff with no idea of the outcome or even the steps along the way.
For me, it has been a story worth telling, something that has been hidden within the mists for far too long. Ultimately it is a story of the heart. After all, it’s from ancient Ireland. How could it not be?
And, it’s a self-published book searching for its audience. Perhaps you are one of those people meant to wander through its pages and be touched by the magic of its story.
Aliana Alani July 2011