Deepening In ~

A Tale of Coming Home to the Land

I did not want to leave. And yet, this land stays with me, alive forever in my heart.

My return flight was a bit delayed. Explanations were sketchy. I minded not at all, as what would have been a pitch-black take-off turned into a witnessing event. Blazing Magical Sunrise over the River Shannon. My camera was misbehaving and the shot practically impossible, so the above image, of a different river entirely, may give you the idea. Suffice it to say, the sight was breath-taking. What an end to an incredible journey!

The sun! Such a rare and wonderful sight on the Emerald Isle. October afternoons, when sunlit, take on a golden glow reminiscent of Provence in summer. Rainbows abound.

I find particular joy in the Irish “rain dance.” Now it rains, now it doesn’t. Oh look! A rainbow! Oops, it disappeared! My four-legged companion, Roshini, used to say, “Rainbows are always there. Humans just need water to see them.” In this country, the truth of that remark dogs my every step.

A Wondering Tale

Duly packed into the hired car, I took several deep breaths and headed out for the motorway. N19 to M18 north. Check. I even recall the appropriate exit at Ennis and its squirrelly roundabout. Best pay attention. Easy to take the wrong… bother! I didn’t shift lanes early enough and now I’m blocked in and have to exit in the wrong direction in order to turn ‘round. At least I can feel the sea. If I can feel the sea I can find my way.

I. Am. Not. Lost. The car simply hasn’t learned to navigate the way I do, internally. Or, perhaps our interface is not quite formed. We won’t let that matter. I am always guided. The turnoff is up ahead. The land will let me know.

For some reason, likely that I informed Source I wanted this trip to be “unplugged,” my phone died enroute from the airport to my destination, so digital guidance left me. Funny thing is, I know the way. Not only has the proprietor of Cappabhaille House included directions from most major airports on his website, I have made this drive multiple times. Is it the exhaustion hangover from transatlantic travel? Now, if my inner knowing will only seep into the entirety of my navigation…

Twilight is upon us, me and the vehicle that is. Hmm. While I can drive at night, it isn’t the best idea anymore. “Silly rabbit!” I thought to myself, remembering that according to local lore, the drive is “only 30 minutes…” “As the raven flies?” I wondered.

Corvids have fun guiding my travels. They fly ahead of me, when needed, indicating the appropriate direction. This evening was no exception. A crow hopped off a telephone wire, and flew straight ahead along the road as it began to wind through the unique lunar landscape of the Burren. “At least I know where I am,” I thought. And, “thanks, my friend.”

No sooner had the crow taken off on its own journey then the castle at the turn-off from Kilfenora to Corrofin loomed out of the deepening gloom. Almost home! Funny feeling, that. I hadn’t felt it for such a long while.

On the other side of that lovely little village, body and car relaxed into the ride. When I saw Poulnabrone off to the right I almost stopped. Almost. Even at this late hour there were more than a few cars in the car park. “Later,” whispered the land. “Come back when you’re rested. It is here for you.”

This is what home feels like, I sighed, softly, within my heart.

First days were spent acclimating. I visited the farmer’s market for local nibbles, and spent hours in stillness, next to the sea.

In the colder months, Fanore is a beach for locals. Walkers, their canine companions, surfers, and the few intrepid cold water swimmers who brave its waves, are its usual visitors in the morning hours. I walked its tide-altered length twice during this trip, supported by stiff breezes, chill salt air, and the unmitigated joy of racing canines, left to romp and play free of constraints in sand and sea.

On one such walk I met a woman from the Czech Republic who now lives in Galway. She comes to this beach as often as possible, enjoying its meditative qualities as much as I. When I admired her courage at stripping off enough to brave the shallows, she replied, “I never come without a bottle of water and a towel. This is my joy.” Mine as well! I had forgotten!

At the look on my face, she extended a hand, waving toward her beach camp, and offered to share. The light in her eyes mirrored mine as we stepped together into the shallows. “How amazing,” she whispered. “Here we are, each from half a world away, and we meet here, joined by the sea.”

The rock formation below is called Hag’s Head. It guards the southernmost tip of the Cliffs of Moher. I love this section of Ireland’s Western shore, and had almost booked a ticket for the car park, when my body sighed a little, asking for fewer tourists and more time with the magic.

One has to know where to find the hike up to this point. From the small parking area provided by a local farmer it is, as my host assured me, a twelve-minute hike up a “steep” hill.

Where I live, “steep” involves switchbacks and altitude. This was an easy climb. Time? I parked about half a mile further than the designated area, so it took a bit longer, during which interval I re-accustomed my olfactory senses to the comforting smells of peat fires and the presence of livestock.

Open countryside, loosely populated by those who love it, is a pearl of priceless value. So is this view of the sea.

I sat with Hag’s Head on a glowering day. Much cloud cover, no rain. Perfect for viewing, meditating, pondering, and, as it happened, driving. The pounding of the sea against the cliffs beneath me lulled my senses. The vast horizon let my Spirit soar. Magic ever swells at the junction of earth, sky and sea.

One of the more famous tourist stops in the Burren, Poulnabrone radiates mystical energies. I have visited this spot many times, and each visit has held something special. In winter, the cows on local farms are sent “up the mountain” into areas configured much like this, to graze upon the unique flora, and be warmed by heat retained in the limestone.

Beneath this place, lies some of the oldest, deepest magic.

I wrote about my latest experience here in a recent blog post:

What is Forever Love? A deepening in to oneself as the land and the land as we.