At the edge of Atlantis

Holy Island, Lough Derg, Clare

I spent the weekend by the shores of Lough Derg in Clare. It was a short drive from where Brian Boru, the High King of Ireland was born. The more i know about Ireland, the more i realise the many many layers of time and history it has washed upon it. One invisible veneer after another, and really, it wears it so unselfconsciously. They never make a big deal out of anything, the Irish. Never. Their interpretation about Brian Boru was very scanty. There were very few signs of his existence in the area. There is a church associated to him, but at the base of the remnants of this 10th century tower is built the handball club. There are holy wells, and simple islands, and Celtic crosses. Places of power and places of history - but it is all a hodge podge - if you ever want to know the meaning of ephemeral, i would suggest you take a drive around the Ireland. Leaving no trace is the fate of the Irish person.

Everything is worn lightly, as always. Famine, oppression, fame, holiness, mission, purpose - everything is taken as never lasting for very long. Things pass, things always pass, and yet, things also always stay - the river is always running, it is just an accepted way of being. Nothing is and everything always will be.

We had our conference in the back of a pub, in a small function room, where he heard about the ancient Hibernian mysteries. Ireland, is supposed to the edge of Atlantis. One of the lands which the Atlanteans came to after the tragedy. Celtic Christianity is infused with this memory, said the speakers. It is very open, it works from the heart, it is in direct contrast to the Rule of Rome - it is soft and musical - it is feminine. Christ was a reality before he arrived on Earth to the Druids. They called him the Lord of the Elements. It was through his sacrifice that the Earth was revivified - his life spirit, his ether had entered the Earth and made it possible once again for it to be healed.

In many ways, this interpretation of Christ in the Celtic Christian context is fascinating. I did say, i do find it hard to think that Christ sacrificed himself for the whole of humanity. It just seems extraordinary. So why am i here? Because i still have questions. I have a niggling wondering. No other religion on this planet claims salvation through the death of one man. No religion on this planet says that the death of this person has made it possible for us to live. They speak of gods and philosophers and kings and queens, but they never make this outrageous exertion - that the holy blood, the sangria, is what has allowed us to once again look towards a eternal life.

So, i have questions...this is why i came.

Sometimes, i wonder what it is like to live life in an utterly materialistic way. Where magic is not something which has a connection with the divine, or the divine is not connected with spirit, but rather the magic of money and the magic of convenience and the magic of status, for that is a sort of magic too. But to have nothing but this in one's life, to have no questions about the unseen world, or not try to grasp this wisp of a feeling with thought - what must that me like? For me, it would me as if one of my senses had been taken from me - a limb amputated. To not have this possibility to walk through the door of questions, to follow the spider's silk into another realm.

To drown in figures and numbers and statistics - to lose oneself in the idea of reality that is presented to you, but to never ever have questions. What must that be like?

So i wonder, what was i expecting when i went for this conference? I think to learn a bit more about Celtic spirituality. Which i think i did.

Right. So this week i am going to go running everyday and also do lots of spring cleaning and gardening. My cold and sorethroat is starting to lift already. My nose is now running clear and my cough is looser. I feel a bit tired still, but it will be ok. I feel completely motivated to do loads.

For many i think, it is hard - i know it is hard. Hard when you are facing uncertainty to come through. But I know that there is life after - when something is let go, something else grows in it place. It will all be alright, is what i know. And then there is the quiet routine... new beginnings and new things. Everything can be made new. That is one of the messages of Lent i think. Beneath the soil, something wonderful stirs. Everything is possible. We never know what is coming to meet us from the future, but we can be ready. Also we in part CREATE that future. We create that life which is walking towards us. There is a place for sorrow and joy and possibility and death, all at the same time, like music which plays all the chords and the dimensions at once. Like the Irish landscape which makes everything possible - past and present and future - to exist simultaneously, and yet carries no trace of it on the surface. Such a blessing, such a gift - to live at this edge of Atlantis.