On the evening of February 12th, 2006, I conducted a shamanic drumming ceremony in honor of the Imbolc Full Moon. Imbolc, the Celtic Cross Quarter Festival celebrates the end of Winter and the first signs of Spring's emerging life force. It is personified by the Maiden aspect of the Triple Goddess. The Willow, one of the trees of Imbolc, is associated with the Moon, water and deep feelings. I wove several wreaths out of willow whips and gave them to friends. I also constructed a small "nest" out of the whips for a "swan gourd" which had darkened as it dried and which I had recently decorated in honor of The Faery Queen Morgan le Fay.
As the moon rose, I stood within a small circle of willow whips which I had laid out on the floor, beating my drum, shaking my rattle and waiting for a vision.
Suddenly a woman's face appeared before me. It was a beautiful face. I simply surrendered and "fell" into it as if it were a cloud. I emerged on the other side overlooking the most lush and intensely green landscape I'd ever seen in my life (forty shades at least). I soared over deep emerald mountains, valleys and forests eventually coming to rest outside a circle of large stones approximately thirty feet in diameter. A woman dressed in a black hooded robe waited for me inside the circle. She indicated to me that I should enter and sit against one of the stones opposite Her. I did as I was told. She never took Her eyes off of me. Like Her long hair and clothing, Her piercing eyes were as dark as a raven's wing against the night sky. I felt as if She were looking right through me, carefully examining every hidden and private part of me. I felt completely exposed to Her burning gaze and yet somehow I never felt threatened by Her in any way.
Soon, a small group of young people joined us. They began to dance around the circle, weaving in and out of the stones in much the same way that I wove my willow in the making of the Imbolc wreaths. I watched them perform an ancient ritual in the center of the circle; a ritual honoring Spring and its budding life force. It was obviously a very old pagan ceremony, the details of which I will not go into. Suffice it to say, from time to time I would glance at the mysterious hooded figure who sat across the circle from me to see Her reaction. She never looked at the others. She never took Her eyes away from me. She only watched to see my reaction, and yet I never once felt uncomfortable. Mostly I felt honored to have been invited by Her to witness the rite.
Eventually the ceremony concluded and She and I were off to a new location. This time it was the sea. We stood together, knee-deep in the crashing, foaming surf which thundered against the rocks and lashed the glistening beaches around us. The bottom of Her cloak floated in the undulating waves around Her knees and became soaked and heavy with the sea. She didn't seem to mind. Her skin was as white as the foam. She stared deep into my eyes and without ever moving Her lips, She sang this song to me:
"You and I are One
You and I are Eternal
You see the world through My Eyes and I through yours
We are Spirit and Nature living together."
She then made it very clear to me that I was to come to Her, that I was to look for Her in the Stones of Erinn's Isle. She provided no clues as to where to look or gave any indication of who She was, only that I was to come. She told me that I would "know" the circle once I'd found it.
During the weeks that followed, I was plagued with doubts about my sanity whenever I even considered actually committing to such an undertaking. It would be expensive, I was by no means "wealthy". There would be difficulties to overcome, considerable planning and research. Hell, I didn't even speak "Irish", and I certainly didn't know anyone who lived there. Most of my musician friends who had visited Ireland returned with lots of stories about "fiddle music and pubs". No one seemed to know much about the ancient stone circles or the identity of the Phantom Priestess who had appeared to me in a vision and summoned me to Her far off Isle.
I went into denial, I became depressed, I lost my faith, found it and lost it again; several times in fact before it was all said and done. She was insistent. She would not leave me alone. "Why do you wait", She would whisper in my ear whenever I was alone. I knew I would not be able to rest until I made a decision one way or another. I had been checking airline ticket prices on the Expedia.com website for several weeks. Fares were hovering uncomfortably around $1,100.00-$1,200.00 round trip. Keep in mind, this trip was going to take place during the peak of "high season" when EVERYTHING in Ireland is priced "way over the top". Then one Saturday afternoon in March, I happened to check the website and noticed an unbelievable round trip offer of $800.00 from Portland, Oregon to Dublin and back departing in the middle of June 2006 and returning mid-August. There it was! Right in front of me on the screen! The "improbable dream ticket". Now I had no choice, I knew the low price would not be available forever. I either had to "act" then and there or "walk away" from Her invitation. I guess I always knew in my heart that I would never actually refuse to oblige Her request, I just needed a good excuse to finally "commit". This was my golden opportunity and so I purchased the ticket. As it turned out, if I had waited until the next day I would have lost my chance for the low price as the fares were back up over $1,000.00 again.
After that, She seemed to be pleased with my decision as I was no longer subjected to Her incessant pressure. I found some excellent books on-line; field-guides to stone circles and sacred sites of Ireland. I devoured the material in the ensuing months in preparation for my trip, and in doing so, it became increasingly clear to me that I was being called on another sacred pilgrimage. By whom, I did not know, but this became less important as time passed. I was to undertake this "walk-about" in order to visit sacred sites of Ireland's ancient past and write down whatever it was that I heard "whispered" there. My two month-long search for this Dark Mistress would lead me on an excursion throughout Ireland from the Beara Peninsula in the south to County Sligo in the northwest. I had spent the previous summer in Southern England visiting crop circles and stone circles and had kept a journal in which I'd written about many of the things that had been "spoken" to me in those sacred temples. So in some ways I felt that I had been "groomed" for this task and felt privileged to have been chosen for the assignment.
I've been doing a good deal of writing in this past year, much of it fragmentary and poetic prose. But I am also currently writing a novella which I can only describe as a work of Spiritual Eroticism. I am seldom inclined to write rhymed verse, in fact I can honestly say that I am NEVER inclined to compose rhymed verse. However, in an effort to put into words my reasons for once again "dropping everything" and heading off to some distant land for the summer; to have a printed response that I could hand to my friends by way of explanation when they finally got around to asking me the inevitable question, "Why on earth are you going to Ireland? I thought you were Polish?" I wrote the following poem and I am including it here. Perhaps it will shed further light on any of the "why's and wherefores" that I have inadvertently left in shadow in this introduction to my journal.
Her Request
Mistress of the Stones and Sea
what is it You want from me?
I do not even know Your name
yet I fear and love You just the same
Bewitching me upon that night
in dreams beneath the Full Moon’s light.
You spoke to me without a word,
Your eyes were all I ever heard:
"I await you on the Isle of Sidhe
in the lush green wood and violent sea.
Search for Me among the Stones,
the buried shards and ancient bones."
You led me to a sacred ring
we watched their heated Rite of Spring,
then hastened to the churning sea
You never took Your eyes off me.
Knee-deep we stood where all around us
waves battered rocks but never found us.
echoes of these simple lines
still resonate in my heart and mind:
"You and I are One
You and I are Eternal
You see the world through My eyes and I through yours
We are Spirit and Nature living together"-
So I come to You as requested
all my Trust severely tested.
Leaving behind the life I know
to sit where holy waters flow.
To write the ancient whispers spoken
keeping sacred ties unbroken.
I’ll walk through forty shades of green
and all the colors in between
to find You there among the Stones
and buried shards and ancient bones-
I sincerely hope you enjoy reading Forty Shades of Magic, and I welcome any and all questions and comments that you may have.
Sincerely,
Jim Malachi
August, 2006
Part 1. The Southwest
June 15th Thursday
So sue me, but I have to say my early morning arrival in Dublin was decidedly "anti-climactic". Perhaps my expectations were unusually high. Whatever the reason, I found the city as a whole to be remarkably "unremarkable", and I could not wait to head out of there and into the countryside where I belonged. Nowhere near as large as London, but possessing a certain ponderous "metropolitan weight" that its citizens appeared to be doing their best to bear gracefully; Dublin is "progressing" as is all of Ireland at an alarming rate. I have been led to believe that Ireland is now the fastest growing country in all of Europe. The increase in Dublin's gang and drug related crime seems to substantiate this claim. I get the feeling that Ireland has always been a place of extremely "high vibration" and intense energy, even in ancient times. But it was obvious to me that people's coping strategies are now being tested like never before. The widely prevalent and traditional addictions to alcohol and tobacco no longer seem to be "doing the trick".
Despite the “growing pains”, Dubliners somehow still managed to be, for the most part, VERY friendly. It is not exactly one of the easier cities for a stranger to find his or her way around in, some of the street's names change with every new block. Generally, I found most people helpful and willing to provide me with directions to the various places I wished to visit within the city proper. Eventually, I came to rest in an area known as Temple Bar. This particular section of Dublin, near the University, is the heartbeat of the city's traditional music scene. My favorite pub of all was Oliver St.Gogarty's. Each Thursday evening, a group of musicians unpretentiously occupies a table near the door and begins playing into the night from the midst of the lively crowd which soon gathers around them. In stark contrast, American bands seem to require placement high on risers in the center of the room, swathed in an artificial halo of fancy colored lights. Perhaps it helps them feel that they are playing better than they actually are. Who knows? I must admit I have never been a huge fan of traditional Irish music, but there I stood, sober as a post, with tears streaming down my cheeks. The irresistible "Spirit" of the music was completely unexpected and overwhelming. I realized that this was the very spirit that I had come such a long way to find in Ireland's ancient stones. I never expected to be so thoroughly cleansed in such a seemingly dank and spiritless place. “Fiddle-music and Pubs”, perhaps there was something to this after all. I was now forced to re-evaluate my initial prejudices regarding what a foreigner may or may not expect to find in a city like Dublin.
Later that same evening
For some unexplainable reason I feel compelled to write down how I am feeling today on this, my first day in Ireland. How it feels to know absolutely no one in this entire country. How travel weary and discouraged I am at this point in my journey. I suppose that at some point in the future, near the end of my two months here, I will be grateful to be able to look back on this early entry and know what I was feeling in the beginning. Who knows what I'll feel like then? What effect the time and the land and the spirit and the stones will have on me. What sort of person I will be as I look back on these lines written on the 15th of June? What will I be thinking? How will I have changed? What will the "future me" have to say to this person who sits alone here in this quiet B&B in Clontarf just outside Dublin, fervently scratching sentence fragments onto his notepad in the middle of the night? What words of advice or encouragement would I wish to send back?
I am reminded of the "Death" one almost always experiences just prior to "Awakening". Death and Disillusionment.
To be perfectly honest, I am afraid of how I will be changed by this place. I am afraid of what might be happening to me!
Friday June 16th
Somehow, I managed to lose the pen that I used to make last night's journal entry. I suppose that it is just as well, for along with the pen and the ink which it contained, I seem to have lost some of the weariness and doubt which had been muting my spirits. Today's accomplishments have introduced a fresh new sense of "mastery" of my surroundings and this feeling of familiarity with the streets of Dublin has been uplifting. I am also finding myself to be more understanding of the plight of the city's inhabitants. They are simply doing their best to survive in an incredibly toxic environment. I have survived by learning the whereabouts of some of my favorite "foreign city staples". For instance, I now possess a Dublin Public Library card which enables me to access the internet free of charge in either of their downtown locations. I am now able, if need be, to provide directions to the main Post Office or the train station from just about anywhere in town. I have a favorite pub and cheap eatery in Temple Bar. And I am getting pretty handy with the local busses. I even purchased my train ticket to Cork for tomorrow morning. So, it is with a renewed sense of optimism that I wrap up this Dublin leg of my journey and prepare to set off for Ireland's "Rebel Land", the lush and beautiful southwest.
Saturday June 17th
On a train pitching and rocking southward toward Cork City, the vibrant, emerald ribbon that is the Irish countryside whips past my window in an endless fluttering blur. It is a relief to finally be out of Dublin and away from the congested city life. Breezing through miles of sweet, moist air, one can almost feel the "old Spirit ways", the "ancient energies" stir as they are rudely shaken by this fierce mechanical beast that comes thundering brazenly through their dreamscape. One imagines them uncoiling stiffly from their long sleep in the lush green carpet, stretching skyward in an effort to identify and otherwise thwart the onrush of unfamiliar scents rolling in on their wind.
This is what I traveled all this way to experience. "Her Green Form"! She is with me now, as always, only I can feel Her pulse more strongly out here in the island's interior. I suspect that my approach to my very first Ireland Stone Circle is going to be positively "mind-blowing"! What I find most striking is that even the Irish landscape has its own rebellious nature. The British countryside is, by comparison, far more "well behaved" if my memory of last summer's trip to Wiltshire serves me correctly, more of a neatly manicured patchwork of farmlands. Here, the cattle seem content to graze peacefully in unruly fields of overgrown weeds and wild flowers.
Sunday June 18th
Derreenataggart Stone Circle
Located just a half hour's stroll up a small country road outside the Castletownbere city limits. This is the very first Stone Circle that I have visited here in Ireland. It was pouring down rain most of the day but the clouds parted just as I left the road and entered into the field where the stones lay. There is an exhilaration that overcomes you at the first sight of the taller stones as they appear from the road. They seem at first glance "alive", giants from some ancient time calling you in for a closer look. The feeling of mounting anticipation is similar to the one you experience as you make your way down the tram lines toward your first crop circle formation. There is a very powerful energy here, and in some ways it is similar to the stone circle of my Imbolc vision. But something deep inside me tells me that this is not that circle. That would come much later. I am strongly affected by the energy within this circle of nine standing stones. Of the original fifteen, three are down and three are missing. The diameter is approximately thirty feet across. It is a nearly perfect circle and on an energetic level, it is very reminiscent of the crop circle formations I visited last year. I find myself standing in what feels like a "dome-shaped" energy field. Like a giant container or vessel of some sort. The vibration here is very "clean" (that is the only word I can think of to describe its still and "uncluttered quality") I spent an hour or two with the stones before leaving to catch the 5:00pm bus back to my hostel in Adrigole.
Later that evening I went for another walk in an unfruitful search for a nearby stone circle which, while it appeared in plain sight on my map, also happened to be on private land, the owner of which made no bones about warning trespassers to KEEP OUT OR ELSE!
I found this to be very frustrating, and while I understand completely that accepting unavoidable disappointments along the way is all part of the "game", I am gradually beginning to suspect that I might be more than just a little crazy to have undertaken such a quest. I think that what I am really wanting is for some sort of "breakthrough" to happen. I long to feel a real "connection" with the source of the ancient voices that summoned me to this remote and unfamiliar place. I have never doubted the fact that I am being "observed" and "guided", but at the same time I am still VERY FRUSTRATED!
Perhaps I am rushing things a bit, (granted, I have only been here a few days) but I have yet to feel "at home" in Ireland. I continue to feel very much an outsider. "I feel somewhat like a lowly tic, a mere insect crawling around Your vast green expanse of a Body"
At first, I simply attributed the uneasiness to the disorientation that accompanies jet lag, and being trapped on a merry-go-round of cities, busses, pollution, shoppers, fast food, second hand smoke, security check-points and all the rest of the civilized human toxins that I came to this Emerald Isle to escape from. Now I realize that what I am really wanting is just a glimmer of that "AAAAhhhhhhhhhh..... moment". That feeling that sweeps over you and conveys to you in unmistakable tones:
" Welcome, we've been waiting for you and we are happy you have come"! . . . Look around you Jim,
nothing in your immediate world is 'trying' to be anything that it is not.
Nor is anything in your immediate world trying 'not' to be anything that it is! EVERYTHING around you is ALIVE and simply BEING! Find your own state of effortless "being-not-trying" and the discomfort you are experiencing will disappear.
"We are here with you, you need only be here with Us."
Monday June 19th
Return to Derreenataggart Stone Circle
After sitting alone in the circle for half an hour or so I decided to ask the stones if they had any messages they wished to share with me, that I had brought along a pen and note paper. Just then a cow and her calf slowly walked past the outside of the circle. The bond of love between them was so apparently strong it could be felt from a distance; obvious, almost tangible. I realized that the message I was being given was a simple one. "Love", in all ways! I doubt if the ancient spirits who inhabit this formation even speak my language, but the language of the love between these two creatures was universal and powerful.
Monday evening 9:00pm
I am enjoying an evening meal ritual which I cannot ever imagine tiring of; a "Toasted Special and a pint of Guinness". You will not find a "Toasted Special" on any menu in any pub in Ireland, but it is always offered just the same. All one need do is walk up to the bar and request one. It is basically, a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with tomato and onion. And it is always the cheapest meal you will ever eat in Ireland, but first you have to know that it exists and that you must ask for it by name. I was turned on to this Irish delicacy by two Dubliners, Joe and Lara Darbey whom I met in Adrigole, who were also staying at the Hungry Hill Hostel on the Beara Penninsula. The hostel also has a nice pub and we met and chatted over a Guinness on my first night there.
Tuesday June 20th
Anyone who has had to resort to using public transportation in the southwest of Ireland knows that it is expensive, infrequent, time consuming and generally frustrating. The area is very remote, and there are simply not enough people who actually use the bus system for traveling back and forth to keep the costs within reason. As a result, fares are disgracefully high. My solution was to hitchhike as often as possible. It too has its own set of drawbacks and frustrations, but after having given much consideration to the pros and cons of "hitching", I have to say I had a much better time getting around the countryside on my "thumb" than I did on the local busses. In fact, I even contemplated having a set of spoke wheels tattooed on my thumb with a heart and shamrock between them as a show of my appreciation for all of the lovely people who gave me lifts as I stood in the pouring rain, the blazing sun, and the chafing wind along the narrow shoulder of some lonely, country road with my hopes up, a big smile on my face and my fly securely zipped shut. I have gained access to tons of valuable information about ancient sights and hidden natural wonders from conversations with locals in these "rolling visitor centers"; information I would never had known about if I'd limited myself to the field guides that I'd brought along with me.
So far I've accomplished quite a bit today in the city of Bantry. Found a great deli at the local "SuperValue" Market. Was issued my second Ireland library card which entitled me to one free hour of internet use at the Bantry Public Library, and found the local post office. I also sent a letter to my friend Jennifer in Glastonbury sounding her out as to whether or not I might come for a visit sometime in the next few weeks. Initially, I hadn't planned on including England in this summer's itinerary but I am now thinking what a waste it would be to be this close and not take advantage of the opportunity to revisit that magical place. There is an "all night" ferry that leaves the city of Cork and arrives in Swansea, Wales 10 hours later. It might be worth looking into. I'll wait to see what her response is before I pursue the idea any further.
I purchased a brand new pair of "hiking shoes" for my Ireland trip just prior to leaving Ashland. I haven't allowed enough time for them to be properly "broken in" and am I suffering for it now. I can barely stand in the morning upon rising. The nerve sheaths running through my metatarsal arch are positively SCREAMING! I have been applying arnica cream twice a day but it hasn't seemed to be of much help. It is more than a little scary to be only a week into a two month long trip with this sort of pain. Luckily, I had the foresight to bring along an extra pair of my most comfortable dress shoes "just in case". Those won't do me much good in the pouring rain and mud, but it is reassuring to know I have them to wear if the situation gets any worse.
Wednesday June 21st
How appropriate that I should find myself sitting alone here on this quiet afternoon of the Summer Solstice, next to none other than the old stone Goddess "Cailleach Beara" (The Hag of Beara). What a lovely way to celebrate the longest day of the year and in such gentle company. I am so fortunate to have Her all to myself. Her energy is in fact similar to that of a very large old tree. I am basking in the ancient presence of this calming, powerful stone perched high in the hills outside the coastal town of Eyries. From where I now sit and write, it is easy to make out Her searching, feminine form, chiseled in granite and looking out toward the sea waiting for Her consort to return to Her side. SHE IS BEAUTIFUL!! Her many striations are filled with jewelry, coins, flowers and other gifts left behind by others like myself who came here to spend quality time with Her. I'm honored to be in Her company on this special day. How sweet that Her Spirit summoned me so that we might spend this Solstice together.
Just up the coast road about a half a mile or so, lie the wind blasted ruins of Kilcatherine, medieval chapel and cemetery. The roof is gone now. Ancient gravestones, Celtic Crosses and chipped markers lie scattered about the chapel grounds. They tilt at odd angles like dancers, bent and petrified beneath the harsh accumulation of centuries, their stark contribution to the eerie and otherworldly atmosphere which hangs in the salty coastal air. The “Crone” energy is alive and well both here and near the “Hag”. Of the many sacred locations which I visited on this trip, there were several places where it seemed entirely inappropriate to take photos. This was indeed one of those places. Legend has it that the Hag once stole the Mass book from this very chapel and was turned to stone as a punishment. She is doomed to remain that way until Her husband returns to Her from the sea.
Thursday June 22nd
I don't think I'm ever going to be able to successfully scale the Healy Pass road on this rented bicycle, it's simply not equipped for the terrain (nor am I). If I am ever going to visit the Ardgroom Stone Circle on the north side of this peninsula, I'm just going to have to whip out my lucky thumb and "hitch" over the pass another day.
This can be a harsh and discouraging place sometimes. I find that making some sort of "human connection" whenever possible seems to help. I realize I have chosen an unusual and difficult path and that I must decide at each and every crossroad which way "forward" actually is. I have also chosen the most remote and wild section of the country in which to begin my journey, a fact not all that obvious over the internet last month when I was planning my itinerary. Despite all of the frustration and obstacles, there is "something" coming through to me. A faint voice issuing up from deep within the land itself. It speaks in a tongue which, though unfamiliar to me, manages to reassure me that it is teaching me about itself in its own way, in its own language and on its own terms. I will simply have to be resourceful and press on. What else can I do? Ireland is a wild, primitive, beautiful and untamed place in many ways and if you insist on being here, you either figure out how to survive or you don't.
Friday June 23rd
Friday is "Market Day" in Bantry. The streets are overflowing with tents and outdoor booths. Everything from organic produce to farm raised lamb to hand made jewelry is available in the town square. A vintage British motorcycle, a Royal Enfield, was parked on the street near one of the booths. It was assembled in India in 1965, the year I graduated from high-school. I stood there admiring it, bemoaning the fact that I'd forgotten to bring along my phone camera and would have loved to have gotten a photo. Just then the proprietor of the booth stopped by and we chatted briefly. Then next thing I know, he is removing the plastic wrapper from a disposable camera and handing it to me with his compliments. "Here" he says smiling, take several pictures"! So I did, and when the owner of the bike finally arrived I talked him into taking a picture of me astride it. You just never know what you are going to find once you choose to make that "human connection".
Saturday June 24th
I am sitting alone in the Ardgroom Stone Circle and it is BEAUTIFUL! Although this site has seen its share of "Saturday Tourists", for the moment at least, I have it all to myself. I successfully arrived here thanks to a nice couple from Holland, Neil and Marlein, who were kind enough to give me a lift at the Summit of Healy Pass. I was perched on a trunk in the rear of their mini-bus, leafing through one of my field guides on the way down into Ardgroom, trying to decipher the exact location of the stones. The couple expressed an interest in the stone formations which I had traveled all the way from America to investigate. By the time we reached the coast road on the other side of the pass, they had became so curious that they drove me all the way here in order to see for themselves. I was so grateful! After taking several photos, they continued on their way to the town of Kenmare in Co. Kerry.
These stones have a gentle and timeless quality about them, a stillness that hovers over this site like a cozy blanket. An occasional sheep will come and go, but aside from that I am alone, except of course for the Spirits who reside here. It almost seems as though They wanted me to be here today. The trip happened so effortlessly and seamlessly, my appearance here was like water being poured from a pitcher. A curious stream of events which turned out exactly the way it was meant to.
I am sitting quietly, waiting to write down whatever information They wish to impart with me before I leave. (Which is not something I am in any hurry to do)
The words "Old Forgotten Ways" drift in and out of my consciousness. This place feels truly ancient and the language and ways of the people who spent the time and energy erecting this sacred monument are all but forgotten. I am suddenly overcome with intense sadness at that notion, "The Forgotten Ways". But sadness erupting suddenly at these sites is not an uncommon occurrence for me. I admit I have felt similar emotions at nearly all of the stone circles I have visited thus far. I have almost grown to expect it at some point.
Four stones in particular have an extremely "feminine" quality about them, As I focus my attention on them, They claim that They are "watching over me". "Sisters", that's the word that comes through now loud and clear, and it is sweet and comforting to hear these words spoken inside my head.
I finally broke down and (after asking Their permission to do so) snapped a few photos. I never want to forget Them and this holy place, nor do I ever want to forget the way I feel at this moment.
An hour or so later, as I walk along the narrow road which leads away from the Ardgroom Stone Circle, I am struck by the intense beauty of my surroundings. It is as if my eyes have been "opened" and I am able to actually witness the Living-Spirit shimmering in the sunlight upon whose breathing, green Flesh I step.
I feel You with me, Alive beneath my feet!
It is breathtaking and there is no mistaking Her presence now. She is with me, all around me and in me; the One who called me here, with me and looking after me In All Ways. It is really an unimaginable experience. Her Green Form, at least 40 shades! I feel as though I am on drugs. Perhaps this is where the term "being stoned" originated. Who knows? Who cares?
Several hours later
My wild, beautiful and mysterious Green Beloved. I sit here in the lingering warmth of this flat twilight river rock and listen to the sweet smelling sound of your "mountain fresh blood" as it churns past me on its way toward the sea; nourishing every living part of You just as my own nourishes every living part of me. Sitting in stillness here among the blood-red fuscias and pink Rhododendrons that grow like weeds along this pulsing, crystal artery, my vision is once again transformed, allowing me access to deeper levels of Your most private truths. I am honored and grateful to be with You here, now, at the "Level of Your Blood".
Sunday June 25th
Dromagorteen Stone Circle
It is a beautiful sunny morning. I decided to "hitch" a ride into Castletown and visit my favorite ring of stones. I purchased a deli sandwich from the local "Euro Spar" (Ireland's equivalent of the "7-11" convenience store) and was sitting at a picnic table outside Twomey's Pub when a woman walked out of the Pub and struck up a conversation with me. I had no idea at the time that this was Kathleen Twomey. She and her husband owned and operated the establishment. I explained to her that I was from America and I was in her country for two months visiting ancient stone circles and other sacred sites of Ireland's past. She informed me that she was a member of the Beara Historical Society and that within the hour, their group was to depart for a nearby Bronze Age site that had just recently been opened up to the public. It was called the Bonane Heritage Park, and was located in the Sheen River Valley just across the border into Co. Kerry along the old "tunnel road". She asked me if I would be interested in joining them. I couldn't believe what I was hearing!
The park's organizer and animating force, Daniel O'Connor, is a local farmer who's love and knowledge of Sacred Antiquity seems to be boundless. He led our group of twenty or so pilgrims on a guided tour of some of the most unspoiled and well preserved Bronze Age artifacts that I have ever seen. Huge stone circles, Boulder-burials, ring fortes, court tombs, bullaun stones, Fulachta Fiadh, souterrains, it was all there; powerful and impressive beyond my wildest imaginings or my ability to describe. You simply have to experience this unique place for yourself. Danny carefully explained the many solar and lunar alignments of the formations and their relationships to the constellations in the night sky. For example, the stone circle at Dromagorteen is the centerpiece of a complex astronomical calendar which consists of eight specific alignments of both solar and lunar cycles. Monuments on the horizon mark the rising and setting of the sun and moon at significant dates such as winter and summer solstice. The local Bullaun Stone (nicknamed "Rolls of Butter") is a large flat-topped rock where a basin or "bullaun" has been hallowed out. Often oval or round stones are found sitting in the bullauns and are thought to have been used as ancient corn mills. In this case, a total of eight bullauns are carved out of this stone and the round stones are still intact. It is now believed that it was an early astronomical observatory. The bullauns provide a mirror image of the lower half of the constellation Orion and its associated stars. I crawled into the underground "bolthole" of the souterrain which was located near the unusually large ringfort. Ringforts are circular fortifications designed for protection against predators and intruders. It was like entering into another realm. Danny explained to us that the sun peeked into this darkened underground chamber on only two days of the year, February 5th. and November 5th. Coincidently, these are the dates of my two favorite Celtic Cross Quarter Festivals, Imbolc and Samhaim.
After spending several enjoyable and informative hours at the site, we all reassembled at a local historic eatery called "Molly Gallivan's Tea Room" where we were treated to some lively "Trad" accordion music provided by two of the members of our party. Kathleen was kind enough to return me to my hostel on her way back to Castletown that evening. In my wildest dreams I could never have imagined such a charmed and fulfilling day. I have so much to be thankful for. Now, more than ever before, I feel You
"alive beneath my feet, and looking after me in all ways"
Monday June 26th
I have returned to my favorite (and first) stone circle outside Castletown, and as I sit here the words "Here and now, now and then" suddenly pop into my mind. I get the distinct impression that this was once a place of "sacred unions" or marriages. I feel it possibly had some connection with the cycles of the Moon and fertility.
Such a strong and lingering "presence" . . . gentle and clear. It is a wonderful place just to be, to sit, to listen . . . it is simply bewitching!
"Here and Now, Now and Then, You and I, Old Friends"-
“Friend . . . . Friend . . . . Friend”. . . that is the word that is being repeated in my mind like waves breaking on the sand.
It is at this point that I begin to cry. These stones will "speak" to you, but you must give them time. You have to "open up" to them, for Time as we know it simply does not exist inside these circles. The past is "happening" now, right along side us, aware of us- It is pure magic!
Tuesday June 27th
I hitched into Bantry this morning to purchase a ferry ticket to Swansea. Jennifer's letter reached me at the Hungry Hill hostel. She gave me the "thumbs-up" for a short stay at her place in Glastonbury. She further explained that her house is currently undergoing a massive "Oprah make-over" and that all will be chaos for some weeks to come. Carpenters usually start showing up to do their dirty work very early in the morning as the U.K.is in the midst of a "diabolic heat wave". They try to finish working before it gets too unbearably hot in the upstairs bedrooms. So, if I am ok with that, I am welcome to stay. This is great news. I had no idea how much I had been missing Glastonbury until I realized how easy it would be to get there from Ireland. I made several lasting acquaintances while in Avalon last summer, both on this, and the "other side of the veil". The thought of returning to that magical place filled me with anticipation. The Tor, Wells Cathedral and Leisure Center, Wearyol Hill, the Goddess Temple and Rhiannon. It would be divine to step inside the circle of the Nine Morgens and stand once again in Her enchanting presence. I don't believe anyone REALLY belongs to, or fully appreciates a place until they have "returned" to it. I believe you need to actually "leave and come back" in order to earn the right to call any place "a Friend". Up to that point, you are still merely a "visitor". The logic of this notion projected upon my imminent return to Ireland in several weeks was not lost on me at the time, and I was already looking forward to my second appearance on Erinn's Beautiful shores.
I wandered into the Catherine Hammond Gallery in the town of Glengarrif. I had been dropped off there by a ride I picked up Bantry on the way back to Adrigole. I spoke for awhile with the owner, Catherine Hammond, and she eventually got around to asking me whether or not I had visited the Kealkil Stone circle which was located a short distance from the town. She explained that it was a very powerful place, one of her favorites; and that I would have little difficulty finding it on foot. Lately, I had grown accustomed to heeding advice such as this about sacred sites, especially when it came to the ones I had no knowledge of or plans to visit. I interpreted her suggestion as another "invitation" by the Spirit in whose loving care I was becoming more and more at ease. So, it was settled. Tomorrow I would set off in the direction of the "Brown Pub" of Kealkil, the local landmark which points the way up the steep, narrow road and into the hills toward the stones that awaited me.
Wednesday June 28th
Thanks to two very accommodating drivers and a "well signed" road, I now have the distinct pleasure of resting quietly inside one of the most strikingly peaceful sites of antiquity that I have visited so far. Overlooking the sea, as most of these ancient rings do, the Spirit who dwells here seems to be holding me in a loving embrace. My eyes lazily scan the lush blue and green dappled hills which lay exposed in all directions. The churning silver-gray sky overhead is pregnant with the promise of a late afternoon shower. But for now, all is still, silent except for the stirring of a gentle breeze and the occasional snort of a nearby bull. I have been warned about this bull, but I have not seen him. I am not concerned and I do not feel that I am in any danger, only exquisitely looked after by the One who summoned me here today.
I can feel You close to me now.
I feel Your hands upon me, Your breath upon my face.
You whisper one word to me, soft as the wind, one single word:
"Love"
There is an ancient burial sight just a few yards from the circle. It is called a radial cairn and it consists of 18 upright stones in a ring of smaller ones. I am reminded of my recent visit to the Kilcatherine chapel and the many grave markers which surrounded it on all sides. It would appear that the desire to be laid to rest near one's place of worship is a custom which can be traced back to ancient times. I can feel the pervading stillness and solemnity of this sacred place seeping deep into my bones. It is a treasure to be here. This is without question the smallest stone circle I have been in, a mere 9 or 10ft. in diameter, but its energy field is immense and pulsing through me with a persistence which I cannot ignore. Most of what I have heard whispered to me within the confines of these stones would be impossible to translate into any sort of narrative, so I will forego any further attempts at description.
Once again, I find myself experiencing that "old familiar" feeling of not ever wanting to leave a place. It has swept over me in crop circles, holy wells, groves of ancient trees and stones, as well as temples and cathedrals. I am so grateful for having been guided to this place today.
"You have given me the gift of feeling LOVED
and more importantly, feeling LOVABLE; for without that,
most attempts at loving come to nothing"-
I left the circle in somewhat of a hurry as it was beginning to rain. A family who had driven up the road to visit the site offered me a lift back to the Brown Pub. I took them up on their kind offer. And as I was standing over the toilet relieving myself of the day’s fluids, a horrifying thought suddenly collapsed the "umbrella of bliss" under which I'd been standing. I had left in such a hurry that my "medicine pouch" and witch's protection charm were still up at the circle. I was in the habit of placing these two items, which I wore constantly, on sacred stones and trees in order to allow them to "soak up" the energy of a place; so that I might bring some of the essence back home with me. The thought of hiking back up that road in the rain was not something I was looking forward to doing but I simply had no choice. I must return and retrieve my valuables.
I left my back-pack with the bartender and "beat feet" up the hill, determined to retrieve my articles either before someone else noticed them or they became rain-soaked. Would you believe it if I told you that I hadn't gone very far before someone drove up behind me and offered me a lift? It's true. I returned to the stones while the rain was still only falling lightly and rescued my forgotten items. I walked back into town happily recalling the events of this "charmed" day, and appreciating the fact that I was being well cared for; and that while situations might get a bit "fuzzy" at times, everything would always work out for the best!
Thursday July 29
I awoke this morning to the sounds of wind and rain pelting against my window. I recited a silent prayer of thanks to the skylight overhead that I had been summoned to visit Kealkil yesterday and not today. Today's inclement weather would have introduced two elements into the sacred equation that would have considerably altered my enjoyment of that magnificent place. I find it hard to believe that I have been in Ireland for two weeks. It feels more like a deliciously long month's worth of adventures. I guess that, for me at least, linear time has become "wonderfully warped". I LOVE the Beara Peninsula and Her many moods. I have only to look around me at the verdant green landscape that is Her body and I am convinced that it is actually Her "Soul" turned "inside out"; every beautiful and messy aspect of it . . . INSIDE OUT!
Today I will "suit-up" in my rain gear and hitch into Castletown for some emailing at the library and one final visit to my "Old Friend", Derreentaggert.
Tomorrow I will pack up my belongings and move eastward into one of the "Gypsy Caravans" at the Shiplake Mountain Hostel near the city of Dunmanway. While there, I hope to visit at least two of the more well known Stone Circles of Ireland; Drombeg and Bohonagh on the southeast coast. Then it's off to Merry ol' England and two enchanting weeks in Avalon.
The rain continued to fall throughout most of the day as I performed my "indoor tasks". The sun finally made an appearance around 3:30 in the afternoon just as I was making the final approach to my "Old Friend" on the outskirts of Castletown.
I've never been fond of saying goodbye. How does one say goodbye to a Spirit? Can one ever really be separated from a Spirit with whom intimacy has been shared? She was, after all "my first" in Ireland. She gently guided me through the "granite veil" and prepared me to more fully appreciate the other stone realms I was to visit. On my humble behalf, She breached the fabric of Time, admitting me to subtler levels of Her many mysteries; whispered to me several of Her best kept secrets. For this I am truly grateful and will never forget what transpired here between us, in the fields and hills which overlook the sea.
The more time you spend inside these circles, the more you acquire what I like to think of as "spherical awareness", a psychic and energetic acknowledgment of the "larger circle", the entire 360 degrees which surrounds you at all times in ALL possible directions. The perimeters of your attention begin to breathe and expand. You begin to "think" in all 360 degrees. Every living thing that exists outside of your immediate field of vision suddenly becomes imbued with a resonance that pulses energy back toward the center, in your direction. You are endowed with a fresh new sense of inter-connectedness with the world around you. This has been Her Gift to me, Her Treasure, buried here deep within these ancient stones for these many long years, and offered to me now as a symbol of our unique and holy Union. How then, does one say goodbye to a Spirit? When it becomes time to leave, you simply turn and walk away.
Saturday July 1st
I awoke to the glorious sound of rain as it puckishly drummed its musical invitation to me to slip once again into my trusty rain-gear and "get Irish"! I was once told by a woman on a rain-drenched night in Galway, during the height of the annual Galway Arts Festival, "If we Irish didn't go out in the rain, we'd never go out at all"! Not even the pouring rain could dampen the spirit of the throngs of people who lined the crowded cobblestone streets; who sat under umbrellas eating and drinking into the wee hours of the sparkling, liquid night. "Get Irish"! And so I did. I emerged lazily from my cozy Gypsy Caravan, nestled in the trees of the Shiplake Mountain Hostel.
These wood-framed, canvas-topped, dutch-doored replicas of a bygone time are the "private accommodation" offered at the hostel. There are only three of these colorfully painted sleepers on the property, so you need to make reservations in advance especially during "high season". Each is equipped with a heater, and hot water bottles are available in the main building in case you wish to "preheat" your mattress. The stretched canvas top makes a lovely drum, ideal for waking up to the gentle sound of falling rain. And the clean, crisp mountain air and scenery leaves nothing to the imagination. You simply wake up in "heaven". Organic produce grown in the hostel's gardens is available for a small price depending on the season, as well as free range duck eggs which sell for about 25cents each. Yumm! I was beginning to regret my decision to stay here for only one week, and that I hadn't allotted more time to spend at this beautiful mountain hideaway.
There are more coniferous trees in this region of County Cork than there were on the Beara. It actually reminds me a lot of the Pacific Northwest coast of America, but with that special "Irish Twist". There are a lot of Hawthorn, Rowan and Yew trees growing throughout Ireland, and they contribute a great deal to the unique personality of its forests.
I will try to take advantage of the "wave" of weekend beachgoers tomorrow and hitch into Clonakilty for a visit to The Drombeg and Bohonagh Stone Circles which appear to be, according to my maps, only a few miles apart.
Sunday July 2nd
This has been an unbelievably arduous morning, fraught with many unforeseeable moments of disappointment and despair. But with the completion of a dizzying Pas de Deux of "high anxiety and the compassion of strangers", I now find myself sitting comfortably with my back resting upon one of the massive stones of Drombeg. What is most intriguing about this circle is its uncanny resemblance to the circle of my Imbolc vision. I sit here, pen and paper in hand, and find myself staring across the thirty foot expanse of the circle's graded interior. I am completely unable to take my eyes off the very stone where "She" once sat and watched me with those dark eyes. It is as if I am half expecting Her to materialize. I do not feel at all "alone" and I am not referring to the intermittent trickle of tourists who wander in and out of the complex; who stop to take a few photos and head back to their cars and on to the next "must see ancient site of Ireland". Even the familiar stone upon which my back now rests seems to cradle my body as it once did in my vision. I feel as though the time I spent at previous stone sites was little more than a rehearsal for this "main event". I brought a crow feather with me, one I'd found near the Ardgroom circle. I placed it at the base of "Her Stone" as a gift. There is a constant humming sound that contributes to the "otherworldliness" of the site. I have determined that it is coming from the countless bumble bees which peacefully co-exist in this ancient field with the Spirits of Drombeg and the tourists. I am content to simply sit in this agitated stillness and write whatever comes to me.
There is an unusually intense energy here and I get the feeling that it would be next to impossible for modern humans to "wrap their minds" around the thought processes of the ancients who built this circle of stones. They were obviously so much more attuned to the cycles of the heavens and the earth and the rhythms of this and other dimensions. This is a powerful, living testament to their highly developed intelligence and spirituality which has, and will continue to survive the ravages of time.
Taking into account the degree of difficulty that I experienced getting here, it is highly unlikely that I will return to Drombeg for another visit before leaving Ireland. So I am content to just sit and enjoy this place and, for the moment at least, not concern myself with the logistics of my eventual return to Dunmanway.
The energetic field here is much different from that of any crop circle I have ever visited. It is denser, older, darker and more "layered". Yet it responds to subtle changes in the sun's position in the sky and the light that it casts upon the earth below. Drombeg is ALIVE! I experience fluctuations in the energy's intensity like waves breaking on a beach, resulting in slight and alternating sensations of nausea and vertigo which ebb and flow like the low tide.
"Never take, only Give"
These few words suddenly streak across the inside my head like a comet; clearly and purposefully. While I cannot argue with the soundness of the advice, I have no explanation for their unsolicited appearance in my mind.
Several hours have now passed and I am beginning to become a little concerned about exactly when I should begin hitchhiking back to Dunmanway. It is several miles to the main coast road where I will most likely have the best luck catching a ride. I should also take into account the amount of daylight I have left, as the thought of standing on the side of a narrow road in the dark with my thumb out does not appeal to me in the least.
I am tempted to ask the couple who are meandering around inside the circle if they wouldn't mind giving me a lift on their way out.
And once again the "comet" appears, only this time the words have changed:
"Your ride is coming"
These words actually sounded as though they'd been "written in stone"! What else was I to do but "trust", and wait for my "ride to come". This is exactly what I did. A while later, two women arrived. They were named Valerie and Mai. I learned that Valerie lived in Paris and was visiting her cousin Mai who owned a store in Cork City. We began talking about the stones and they told me they had just come from a visit to the circle at Kealkil and were on their way back to Cork. They became frustrated trying to locate a nearby stone circle called Bohonagh and had finally given up the search. I explained to them that it was my original intention to visit both Drombeg and Bohonagh, and that I too had given up when I realized how difficult it would be to reach it on foot. I showed them my Field Guide to Stone Circles which I always brought along with me, just in case, and we all agreed that between the three of us, and the book, we should have little trouble locating it. So after bidding a fond farewell to "Lady Drombeg" and thanking Her for the many blessings and insights, we all piled into Mai's car and headed off down the road to the illusive stone circle somewhere near Ross Carbery.
After what seemed like "days" of driving up and down back roads, and taking turns looking at the map and field guide, we finally stopped at a B&B and asked for help. The proprietor was friendly and directed us straight to Bohonagh without hesitation. The "locals" are ALWAYS the best sources of information in these situations. In the wink of an eye we were parked on the gravel shoulder and walking over and under fences (some electrified) and crossing through fields of grazing cattle; all the while keeping an ever watchful eye out for the occasional aggressive bull. Finally we reached our destination high on a hill just as the sun was beginning to turn the "forty shades of green" into the forty shades of "Peach".
Bohonagh was an overgrown and seldom visited combination of solitude and mystery. The chest high weeds made you feel as though you were fire-walking in the purifying flames of sacred antiquity. What an incredible feeling it is to finally stand in the midst of these granite giants. We spent a good deal of time there together and left as the sky was slowly being drained of its remaining light.
I will never forget the magical time I spent that day with Valerie and Mai in the stones of West Cork. We were all blessed with one another's company and, thanks to their warm hearts, I was dropped off safe and sound in the town of Dunmanway before nightfall. They explained that they didn't feel comfortable about leaving me to hitch hike in the dark. It was a bit out of their way and I will never forget their generosity or the way I was cared for on that day.
"Your ride is Coming"
Nor will I ever forget the words that She had spoken to me in Her circle.
Much later that evening
I am sitting under a starless sky, smoking a cigarette which I rolled with some of Marlein's prized Belgian tobacco. Marlein, the proprietor of Shiplake Mountain Hostel visits her homeland once a year and returns to Ireland with a twelve month supply of the shredded brown leaves.
I inhale deeply and listen to the wind stirring in the branches above my head, I am keenly aware of Her Presence all around me. And I realize that I am now at the Level of Her "Breath". Her Sighs and Whispers are spoken in a tongue that is no longer foreign to me. Her loving Spirit illuminates the darkness of both this night and my own beating heart.
Monday July 3rd
I awoke to a profound sense of peace and contentment that normally eludes me on most mornings. This feeling is a far cry from the usual "clouds of confusion and cynicism" that only a healthy dose of caffeine has the power to dispel.
Between yesterday's experiences in Drombeg and Bohonagh, and having spent the last eight hours on the most comfortable foam mattress in all of Ireland, I am in "rare form"!
My heart is swelling with gratitude for the way I am cared for and the way events seem to unfold around me in such a natural and magical way. I am brimming with pride at my having accomplished so much in so short a time; in a place where, as little as three weeks ago, I did not know a soul.
I actually "found" Her; had occupied the very spot where I sat in my vision, thereby successfully bridging Her world and mine. I cannot begin to comprehend what it all means or why this is happening to me. I am content to accept that it is happening, and to simply surrender myself to its ultimate purpose. I made the "connection", I did as I was asked, and I am content in that knowledge.
As a token of my appreciation for all of the ways in which I have been blessed lately, I offered to pull some of the weeds in one of Marlein's broccoli patches this afternoon, providing it does not rain. I am not ready to become quite that Irish yet! It is also the best way I can think of to integrate into my reality the words spoken to me yesterday at Drombeg.
"Never take, only Give"
So I will now become intimate with Her for the better part of the afternoon on the "Level of Her Flesh". Just me and the chickens and the stinging nettles; on my knees and sifting through the fertile soil in the rich and ripening stillness that is the Beara Peninsula.
* * *
After spending several glorious hours in the animated chaos of workaholic honey bees and intermittent sun breaks, I've decided to "call it a day and take a walk down one of the many back roads which meander throughout these densely forested hills.
A light rain is beginning to fall and I suddenly realize I've progressed in one single afternoon from "The Level of Her Flesh" to the Level of Tears; the Tears of both Joy and Sorrow. I am experiencing a familiarity with Her Spirit on a depth that I have yet to feel with my own homeland. She is Mother, Lover and Witch to me and I am gradually learning to respond to Her love in All Ways. And with this thought, I feel tears of Joy welling up inside of me.
Tuesday July 4th
I'd like to take this opportunity to share a few of my thoughts regarding the Level of "Tears of Joy and Sorrow". Today I was ever-so-bluntly reminded that no matter what happens, no matter how difficult things become; you can never afford the luxury of feeling "unlovable" or feeling the "victim". For once you've made that choice, you set into motion a chain of events, whose outcome can only lead to further hardship and despair. And that despite the way circumstances may at times appear,
I can never really stray from my Path!
It is crucial to my survival to keep in mind that I am lovable; that I am loved and cared for in ways that are often beyond my ability to comprehend. This "choice" sets into motion an entirely different chain of events whose outcome will benefit EVERYONE. This, then, is the lesson at the heart of the Level of "Tears of Joy and Sorrow".
"I am standing in the flames of a raging Green Fire
whose fierce Dark energy is consuming me, purifying me.
I fear that soon nothing will remain of me
save for these words and a few charred bones."
Tuesday Night- Late
My "Dark Night of the Soul"
Standing here alone in the shadows of this little arch-topped wooden box, this "canvas covered casket" wherein lie the unhappy remains of my former, happier self; I find the relentless drumming of the midnight rain oppressive. I survey the contents of this "shrinking" enclosure; my personal belongings, my "valuables" strewn about the room in "forty shades of mayhem". And I cannot help but question what sort of insanity has led me here to this bleak and wind swept moment of panic and doubt. I wonder out loud into the darkness, "Is this what dying feels like? Have I finally become the witless victim of my own grandiose hallucinations?'" I, of course, have no answers. I can only "wait it out" and pray that the approaching sunrise will shed some light and hope into my Night of Sorrows.
Wednesday July 5th
I felt Her energy around me clear and strong this morning as I was preparing to leave the Shiplake Mountain Hostel. As I stood on the edge of the property and took in one last look at the spectacular scenery that I had become so endeared to during the last week, I heard Her whisper softly in my ear:
"Take Me back with you"
I remained there with Her for a long time, thanking Her for all the magic that She had spun around me in these past weeks and assuring Her I would take Her with me in my heart "In All Ways"; in my memories, my photos, my words, the food I had eaten, the dirt in my clothing and under my fingernails, right down to the particles of Her dust that I had breathed into my body.
"I become You become Me"
These simple words never rang truer for me than they did in this moment.
July 5th 9:30 PM
Nightfall on the Celtic Sea
I am writing these words from the upper deck of a ferry bound for Wales, in the remaining shards of light thrown off by the sun as it smashes soundlessly into the Celtic Sea. There is a slight breeze and the surface is calm; perfect weather for setting pen to paper. As I scan the undulating expanse of darkening waters, it becomes obvious how and why so many myths have arisen regarding the mysterious regions beneath the surface. The oceans have always been fertile wombs for the stories of our origins, our deepest feelings and the terrible gods who control our destiny.
In the dimming light, my entire landscape is transformed into as many shades of gray as there were greens in the country I've left behind. And as I look around, I think to myself, "gray is good", there is an "honesty" about it that is undeniable and reassuring. I feel exposed out here in ways that I do not feel on land. There is a certain vulnerability that accompanies confronting such an intimidating and ancient Deity.
And of course, I have to write! Feasting on such an abundance of sensory delights, the smells, the sounds, the sights; it would be impossible to deny or postpone the wave of words that breaks against the levee of my imagination. How could I hold back the flood wanting to spill out onto the emptiness of these pages.
I do not know what sort of madness has led me here to this sweeping colorless moment, to this heaving liquid desert. I only know that if it is not madness then it is a wisdom that transcends all logic.
I am set adrift here upon the vast ocean that is my life; and I have charted a course for the thin horizontal line in the distance where a formidable granite slab sits precariously upon the shoulders of its restless obsidian sister. I have no choice now but to go on.
