The Magic of Ireland

The Magic of Ireland

Back in September I spent ten days in Ireland, mostly on the island of Inis Mor. The pull was strong to return to the land where I felt most free, most able to be myself.

So four months later I find myself sitting in a cottage on a hill in Doolin looking at stars twinkle through the window before me while the lights of the village twinkle down the hill. Beyond that, the mighty Atlantic Ocean.

Yesterday the Cliffs of Moher called to my spirit as I hiked the muddy path perched high upon the edge. Even with the multitudes of humanoids that visit during the summer season, the power of the land and sea remains steady and enormous.

By way of recommendation of a shop owner, my friend and I traveled to Ennis and I purchased a new Irish whistle to add to my collection of Irish instruments, the intention being to purchase it on the visit and play it in various locations. I wanted to infuse the sweet sounds of it with the magic of Ireland.

Today found us on a beach during low tide. Rivulets of sea water reflecting the sky reminded me of the sea running through my veins and I felt at one with the land and ocean…perhaps more so than ever before.

The Poulnabrone Dolmen has called to me from the first time I saw photographs of it so it was on the list of places to visit. When we arrived heavy clouds were moving in and after being at the portal tomb for only a few minutes, it began to rain and sleet. Everyone left but me…and the spirits of the place.

I kept my camera out and removed the whistle from my pack and sat down. The wind made playing very difficult but I managed to produce a few sweet notes. As a played I sent love and thoughts for a peaceful rest and afterlife for those thirty-three individuals that had been laid to rest there perhaps 5000 years ago.

From my heart I played and then stopped, closed my eyes and dropped into stillness. The rain stopped. The clouds parted and within minutes the only clouds in the sky overhead were feathery wisps that seemed to decorate the top stone.

Tonight at a local pub, Irish music filled my heart and brought tears of joy. The magic of Ireland is helping rekindle the magic within me. And for that I am ever so grateful.



Sometimes our greatest treasures are those we forget we have.

The poem scribbled on a scrap of paper.

A rock from a stream where the elk appeared from dark, green woods.

A shell found on the beach during that amazing sunrise.

The white horse appearing as if by magic.

Sunrise at the prehistoric fort in Ireland.

Using our bank account balance or the amount of cash in our hand to measure wealth will surely lead us to misery, even if they are filled…because then we worry they won’t be.

Our real, lasting treasures are those that are priceless. This is the wealth upon which we truly build our lives.

The Flute

The Flute

Inspired from an autumnal trip to Ireland and Irish music, I ordered an Irish flute from a Dublin music store and anxiously awaited its arrival. I had already secured a bodhran over a year ago and have enjoyed playing it and a brass whistle so the flute felt like the next step in Celtic music appreciation and cultivation.

I’ve played native flutes for many years so didn’t think it would much of an adjustment but the first time I attempted a note on the Irish flute, the wildlife in my home scattered. My dog Buddy ran to the door of the room and begged to go out. (Sigh).

Many things come easy for me so a growing edge in life is to stick with something that challenges me, makes me dig deep. Enter this new aggravation….I mean challenge…the Irish flute.

My musical expressions are a prelude to daily meditation. The first day I played the new flute I took my frustration into the silence. What have I done? Why would I bring something into my life that makes me so frustrated?

A memory surfaced. I was standing at the top of a very high cliff at the Atlantic Ocean in Ireland. A strong wind was blowing and there were free-standing metal pipes with holes drilled in them. I stood between the pipes and listened as the wind danced through them. Otherworldly harmonies sang out the celebration of life.

After the elemental concert, I sat in deep, fluffy, green grass and wrote in my journal. As I walked up the steep hill, to the ancient fortification, all of my walls crumbled and I became an open channel for Spirit to move through–a flute for the Winds of Heaven to play and bring forth beautiful music to the world.

In the stillness of meditation I remembered so clearly the feeling of being a clear instrument through which the Universe can play melodies that heal, delight, make glad. The Irish flute is a teacher to help me remember to be open and receptive to being a clear channel for love and compassion, power and strength. The new flute and other flutes and whistles are to help me bridge the physical realm and the realm of Spirit.

My playing, in just a few days, has very much improved. As I carefully sound the notes and move my fingers, I imagine myself as a living flute. The notes are the voice of Spirit moving through me. It has become not just a prelude, but an important part of my meditative practice.

All of us can be instruments if we open to the possibility. We can create stillness and space within to allow the music of the spheres to arise within and come forth as beauty we share with the world.