The blessing of Ballynoe

We'll be doing a piece of Tara action at the Ballynoe Stones on the 23rd.

But it is no coincidence that on the day we visit a stone circle, is the day i am made whole again.

For so long i carried the fear of memories inside me, afraid that seeing them, revisiting them would reopen longings and regrets. Wishings unfulfilled, sadnesses which would leave me empty and pining in their wake. Of loves lost, of lives denied. And then i opened up, and saw what was, and saw the sweetnesses, the sorrow - and deep within that the gratitude. I smiled at myself in the same way i smile at young lovers who hold hands as they walk down the high street, at old couples who still hold hands, at Brahms' confections for Clara, Neruda's etheral and earth compositions to his lovers, at children running after butterflies...they all exist and i existed. And for that - i am grateful. For the sunrising, for the moon's perfect fullness, for the rushing of the horse waves on shifting sands, for the suspension of love between the sky and sea. And it was, and it was, and it was. And you were there, and you were there and you were there. And there is the pain, but it is the golden thread that is woven into the fabric, the shining sliver of glass, the tender breakable hurting, the inclusion we make, we cannot help making. It glistens like the tears that i cried, it is bitter and sweet and salty, like the tears i cried. And i cannot unwish it. Will not unwish it. Will not be made to unwish it.

Beneath ancient trees, beside ruined farmsteads, rocked and lulled into the shining darkness of a mysterious lake - love, love, love.

And we - all of us - we were all there. Borne by the naked blistering of the wind.

Thank you.