Not quite memory central. Still, the place resonated with my genetic memories. Ireland. I could not look, did not want to look at the photographs in the cottage, then, later I did and they made me smile. I did not want any surprises, to see any faces I associate with pain.
We did not have much to talk about that week, left our lives and the outside world behind. Would not have known that mercury was retrograde, even though the effects were causing havoc in our lives before we left.
Did not take long to change to a slower pace, although in that place, there is an absence of pace. Something reaffirming about the mountains being there, the sea being there, the same trees, the lakes.
The swans, the bouy, the boats.
A taste of life away from people: we saw more animals than people.
Was poverty in the walls of the place? The famine hit hard around there, people dropping out of existence, a hundred thousand losses, a million, millions in the whole country, and in that place enough to change the demographics and what of their children’s children’s children?
The pot, kettle and stove well worn. How many winters, hours have they been filled and used, working women, children, working men huddled around the warmth of the fire?
A life there in the bog land, the bogs, the lakes, the mountains, only the growing up of children to mark the passage of time.
A rugged beauty about the place and millions and millions of years of earth and rock and change under our feet and under the water.
We walked there every day and said hello to horses, donkeys, cats, sheep, lambs, people. We cooked in the cottage every night and sat in front of the fire.
Life was so blissfully on hold, I forgot the day, month, year.
We meditated some mornings, worked with the breath and the polarity energy in our hands. Everything was crystal clear. It was just you… and me.
Roundstone – Ervallagh – Roundstone
Dog’s Bay
Connemara National Park
Rosroe – Little Killary – Killary Fjord
Clifden – Sky Road – D’arcy Ruin – Beach Road
Tra Mhor (Great Beach) – Ballyconeely (near Connemara Smokehouse - ever tried honey smoked roast tuna?)
Carna – Loch Troscan
We visited Brigit’s Garden and I discovered the Celtic Tree Alphabet. Carvings from wood preserved for thousands of years in the bog.
We journeyed back, entering in to the trepidation. We are still fighting for them. We are open to the challenge but still sometimes the situation is too much for us to bear.
We were riding a wave that week in the blue sky, sea lake bog world. Life is sweet and not a single if only…
”Have you noticed wherever we go there always seems to be a rainbow?”
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