Tag: Sea

Véineas agus an Ghealach

Véineas agus an Ghealach

Pre-dawn in Árainn, Ireland….I’m still dreaming of being there.

I woke at 5am and rushed to put on my cycling clothes along with a Smartwool undershirt. It was the first crisp day to ride of the best riding season of all on the Alabama Gulf Coast….which is ANY time the humidity drops below 80% and the mornings are crisp.

As I pulled onto the highway with my bike loaded on the back of the car, the sliver of the crescent moon hung very low in the eastern sky with venus in perfect alignment beneath it. The crescent was horns up with the dark of the moon creating a perfect circle above it. And there was a red planetary body to the right of the moon. The triangular alignment was spectacular. It made me think of a delicate silver moon necklace with a small chain hanging down dangling a brilliant diamond beneath it.

All the way to the state park I watched the beautiful firmament. Stars twinkled and all seemed to point to the incredible dance of the moon, Venus and Mars.

When I stepped out of the car, the chilly wind caught me by surprise but not nearly as much as the constellations shining so brightly overhead. I attached lights to my bicycle, put on my shoes, helmet and jacket and took off into the darkness.

One of the many, many moments of bliss I discovered within myself in Ireland.

Immediately I recognized the feeling and it was the first time, since returning from Árainn, Ireland, I felt it. Stars, chilly air, darkness, nature…..ah…..laughter erupted as I pedaled. It was awesome to be able to find my bliss again and find home in my skin.

After such a powerful time of travel and adventure, there is often a time when the big energy that built with the experience collapses and life returns back to a place that wasn’t so awesome. But the changes and leaps made in Ireland continue to propel me forward. The energy of change and growth remains strong and the renewal gained there is clear and bright.

Véineas agus an Ghealach….Venus and the Moon reminded me how my wild woman self loves stars whether under pine trees with a humid breeze or on rocky shores of the Atlantic Ocean. May I continue to dance with wild abandon to the untamed heart within me.

An Lá Foirfe, I

An Lá Foirfe, I

The first day of my solo adventure was the absolute perfect weather day. Skies were beautiful blue with white, puffy clouds and the temperature was warm. It was quite a shift from the blustery wind and rain from the previous night.

The only plan I had was to rent a bicycle and take my camera along on a ride. The intention was to see what wild places called my spirit and follow.

I felt drawn to the end of the island I had not yet explored so pedaled until the road terminated and leaned the bike against a rock fence. The stile in the fence led to a nice path leading through a rabbit-filled meadow. I had no idea where it went but it looked inviting so I unpacked my camera from the pack and set off on foot toward the sea.

The grasses along the hills were lush and heavy. A part of me wanted to lay in them and rest in their softness but the path called to my adventuresome spirit.

Before too long the flat rocks known as Glasson Rocks appeared. I remember reading about the tragedy that occurred there in 1852. It is the place where 15 men were swept into the sea by a small tidal wave while they were fishing.

While researching my route later, I discovered the little valley near the rocks is known as Gleann na nDeor, the Vale of Tears. It’s where people used to watch ships leave filled with Irish people leaving for America. I can only imagine the sadness the land must still carry from the tears shed there.

The path followed the intersection of land and sea and the gentle slope of the land as it grew in height. Not far from Glasson Rocks there was access to rocks that were underwater at high tide. I carefully watched the sea before entering the tidal zone and found myself asking permission to enter. The power of the place was palpable.

I slowly moved below the cliff through wet rocks keeping my awareness on the sea and the height of waves. I experienced feelings of awe at the beauty mingled with respect for the sea and a slight tingle of healthy fear of rogue waves. I didn’t linger there as my intuitive voice was urging me to find a safer location to appreciate wild nature.

There might have been a heavy sigh of relief from my guardian angel after I found higher ground. The grassy path felt like an old friend and I settled into the task of climbing through the rocks as the incline took a turn toward steep. But the scramble up through the karst and grass was worth it.

The 300 foot drop into the sea was breathtaking. All week I longed for a vista such as this. I had seen similar views but only from a great distance. I felt such joy that this magnificent place called me to it. I simply had to surrender, listen, and follow the call to find it.

My camera was busy documenting the place while my spirit was absorbing beauty so absolute I found myself shouting thank you to the rocks and sea. I felt the rhythms of sea and tides and waves in my bones as joy cascaded through me like water on the rocks below cascaded back to the sea.

When it felt like I had taken-in as much beauty as possible, I turned back to the trail and began the descent. But more beauty awaited as I passed places that looked completely different from the ascending point of view.

At one point I stopped to photograph the angle of cliff and sea, the turquoise ocean contrasted beautifully with the dark rocks. As I was looking through the viewfinder on my camera and pressing the shutter, a  rogue wave leaped at least 20 feet over my head. I had seen no waves that high on the way up nor while I was observing from the top. It was a strange feeling to realize that the location of the wave was where I had walked below and experienced such uneasy feelings.

I’m not sure how I wasn’t completely soaked but not one drop of water touched me….or more importantly, my camera gear. And even more importantly, I wasn’t in that dangerous place beneath the cliff when the unexpected wave crashed onto shore. But I understood why my internal warning alarms were loudly screaming at me while I was down there.

After a few moments of jitters, I continued my walk down and around the point of Árainn. Back through the rabbit meadow I went, through the stile in the rock wall, to my waiting bicycle.

I cycled back to the B & B to shed layers as the day was warming rapidly and I was very much overdressed. The plan was to go to the pub to eat lunch but as I cycled toward Killeany, I saw a historical sign that read, Dún Dubhchathair–The Black Fort. It felt like a magnet pulling me so I quickly turned left onto the little lane and pedaled. Lunch could wait.

The ratty mountain bike I rented wasn’t the best bicycle but it did okay on rocky, unpaved road as I left pavement and continued pedaling. Eventually I had to abandon the bicycle along the rock fence and hike up the remaining incline.

When I reached the top, the historical marker was pointing…but what direction? The entire landscape was a field of karst with grass growing between the gray rocks. Hiking was challenging with close attention having to be given. There was no path. Just a general direction and no fort in sight.

Again, I followed the pull of the sea and eventually found the remains of the fort; however, it wasn’t the fort that was so spectacular–it was the fields of karst and the sheer drop into the Atlantic Ocean. Once more, the yearned-for spot called me to it. I was nearly ecstatic. It was difficult containing the emotions that wanted expression…. gratitude…. joy…. excitement… happiness… peace… exhilaration… appreciation… wonder… awe.

I reflected on my desire to find these places of wild, spectacular beauty all week. I wanted to photograph them. And for me the process of photographing places offers a deeper connection to them as I open myself to more than the seen and invite the unseen essence and energy of a place to speak to me, whisper its secrets.

It was challenging to comprehend the magnificent gift that was unfolding with every step of the journey on that perfect day. As I sat in solitude and stillness at Dún Dubhchathair, I pondered the process of manifestation. With an open heart I visualized exactly what I wanted all week. I had no attachment to it yet felt the longing build–I want to be where the sea and rocks meet…I want to see it…feel it…photograph it. It was a physical experience of longing, like wanting to reconnect with a long-lost lover. So why was I so surprised that what my heart most longed for came to pass? All day…at every turn….the vision I cultivated manifested over and over again.

An Lá Foirfe…The Perfect Day–Part I

 

 

Oilithreacht

Oilithreacht

The structure of the five day Celtic Spirituality retreat allowed gracious time to explore solo. Our group spent quality time together but many hours were spent on my own where I connected deeply with the land, sea and sky as well as the elemental energies of the special island of Árainn or Inis Mor, Ireland.

When the retreat was over most everyone of our group of twelve left the island on the 5pm ferry with the exception of one couple and me. I moved to a bed and breakfast near Killeany. After settling in I walked the 1.63 miles into the small town to meet them at the pub for dinner.

I left Joe Watty’s pub filled with good food and memories of companionship but ready to be by myself. Rain…cold rain…and wind caused me to pull the hood of my rain jacket close. For a moment I felt lost and lonely after several days of delightful connections. On that walk in the darkening night in the cold rain I felt like a Pilgrim beginning a new journey, happy to have the freedom but small, cold and alone.

But those feelings lasted only a few moments and lifted just as the rain stopped. I walked on with appreciation for new beginnings and anxious to spend the next two days exploring that end of the island.

One of the closing rituals we did in the workshop was to write a blessing for ourself, for the journey of our life. I share it as a blessing for all who walk the path of the Pilgrim, ever seeking deeper connection with the Divine….within and without.

May I allow the wind to guide me as I release the fears that keep me small.

May I embrace the beauty of my heart and know the home it creates for me.

May I dance with wild abandon in celebration of my Spirit.

May I leap upon the Sacred White Horse and journey with Her through star-filled skies, able to see into the darkness and call forth the dawn.

May I share freely of beauty through word, song and images as Nature calls me deeper into Her embrace.

May I honor the strength and courage within me and accept the help of others, both seen and unseen, in the fulfillment of my promise to Mother Earth.

May I dive into depths of the sea and listen with an open heart to the Voice of the Sea and Her creatures and share the message that longs for expression.

May I become intoxicated on the fragrance of the Rose that blooms within my heart and stagger in delirious dance ever-toward the Spirit that calls my name.

Oilithreacht….Pilgrimage

Maidin ag Dún Aonghusa

Maidin ag Dún Aonghusa

For several days, sunrise at the fort was my goal but I never seemed to be up before the dawn. My goal was to walk up in darkness–for some reason that walk in the cover of night was incredibly special–and photograph the fort before daylight.

Finally, some wild force awakened me and I gathered my photography gear, warm layers and boots and quietly exited the guest house. As soon as I opened the front door the wind grabbed my hair. It was crazy again which would make the walk up in darkness even more exciting.

As I entered the prehistoric fort, built over 3000 years ago, the wind once again grabbed me and I stumbled forward into the first circle. I grounded myself and walked over a field of rocks and climbed again to the upper level of the fort.

The night before I sat on a huge slab of rock close to the edge. On that morning, I stayed far away from the edge due to the swirling winds moving through the fort. In fact, I could hardly stand at the same place where just hours before the wind kissed my face in sweet caresses.

With my backpack secured and the tripod in one hand, I stood in darkness facing the sea and with a strong voice repeated the invocation I do every morning. As I begin to speak, the wind completely stopped.

I rise with the strength of Heaven. Light of the sun. Radiance of the moon. Splendor of the stars. Swiftness of Air, Power of Flame, Depth of Sea, Stability of Earth. I rise with a mighty strength because I know the Oneness of All Creation.

The moment I finished speaking, the wind whipped around me. I paused….did that really happen? I asked myself. The answer I heard in my mind was, The planet is alive and listening.  Definitely something I believe but that morning’s experience took the truth deeper.

In four days, I made six trips up to the fort, four of them in darkness. The wildness of the place called to my wild spirit. The wind, sea and stone worked deep magic on me….for which I am deeply grateful.

Maidin ag Dún Aonghusa….Morning at Dún Aonghusa

An Fharraige

An Fharraige

Before breakfast I walked to the Sea. It was just out the guesthouse and down the hill past the cemetery and the pasture full of cows and lush, green grass. The rock wall opening had a slanted walkway that led to the sand.

Grass and flowers, then large strands and piles of kelp lay between me and the gently lapping waves. The tides on Árainn or Inis Mor, Ireland are 18 feet daily so there are great spans of beach covered every day with the clear, cold Atlantic Ocean.

I took off my boots and socks and rolled up my pants. I wanted nothing separating my toes and the sea. It was shocking how cold the water was but admittedly, it felt amazing on feet that rarely are confined by shoes and had been in boots for days. But 57 degree water for a tropical gal? Someone saw people swimming the day before but to be clear, it wasn’t me.

The soft texture of the sand–like flour–and the cold water was such a contrast. The sensory differences made my body rejoice. Laughter and song erupted as I played along the shore.

The colors of softest gray to creamy white were mixed in large ripples in the sand and their intertwining dance was so lovely it brought tears. Muted, mixed well yet distinctly different colors.

Perhaps our relationship with Spirit is like that. So much the same….One…yet the colors of our distinct beingness give way to patterns of such beauty.

When I feel lonely I will recall those sands and know that God and all of creation form such a lovely mosaic of creative amazement. Individually unique yet part of the same matter that is stars, sand and brown eyes through which I behold the beauty.

An Fharraige….The Sea.