This breakage within us is what makes us human and vulnerable. There is nothing more sinister than someone whose mind seems to be an absolute circle; there is a helpless coldness and a deadly certainty about such a presence. When you discover this inner well of longing, it can frighten you and send you into flight from yourself. If you can be tranquil, amazing things can flow from it. Your body is open physically to the world and the well of your mind flows out of ancient ground. This is reminiscent of the mountains here in the Burren, in the west of Ireland, where there are many wells. The face of the well is on the surface; it is such a pure and surprising presence. Yet the biography of the well is hidden under eternities of mountain and clay. Similarly, within you the well is an infinite source. The waters are coming from deep down. Yet as long as you are on this earth, this well will never run dry. The flow of thought, feeling, image, and word will always continue. The well of soul flows from the fracture in the circle of the mind. This is, in a sense, a frightening inner opening—anything can flow through from the distant and unknown mountains. Part of the wonder of living a real life is to make peace with this infinite inner opening. Nothing can ever close it. When you listen to the voices of your longing, you will begin to understand the adventure and the promise of life with which you are privileged.
Celtic spirituality reminds us that we do not live simply in our thoughts, feelings, or relationships. We belong on the earth. The rhythm of the clay and its seasons sings within our hearts. The sun warms the clay and fosters life. The moon blesses the night. In the uncluttered world of Celtic spirituality, there is a clear view of the sacrament of Nature as it brings forth visible presence. The Celts worshipped in groves in Nature and attended to the silent divinity of wild places. Certain wells, trees, animals, and birds were sacred to them. Where and what a people worship always offers a clue to where they understand the source of life to be. Most of our experience of religion happens within the walled frame of church or temple. Our God is approached through thought, word, and ritual. The Celts had no walls around their worship. Being in Nature was already to be in the Divine Presence. Nature was the theatre of the diverse dramaturgies of the divine imagination. This freedom is beautifully echoed in a later lyric poem:
Ah, blackbird, it is well for you,
Wherever in the thicket is your nest,
Hermit that sounds no bell,
Sweet, soft, fairylike is your note.
The contemplative presence of Nature is not ostentatious nor cluttered by thought. Its majesty and elegance drift into voice in the single, subtle note of the blackbird.
To awaken a sense of our ancient longing for Nature can help us to anchor our longing. When we go out alone and enter its solitude, we return home to our souls. When you find a place in Nature where the mind and heart find rest, then you have discovered a sanctuary for your soul. The landscape of the West of Ireland offers welcoming shelter to the soul. You can go to places in the limestone mountains where you are above the modern world; you will see nothing from the twenty centuries. There is only the subtle sculpture that rain and wind have indented on the stone. When the light comes out, the stone turns white, and you remember that this is living stone from the floor of an ancient ocean. Your eye notices how the fossils were locked into its solidification. Some of the stone, particularly at the edges, is serrated and shattered. In other places, the long limestone pavement is as pure and clear as if it had just been minted. Swept clean by the wind, these pavements are smooth and certain. The eye is surprised at the still clusters of white, red, and yellow flowers amidst the applause of rock. Moments of absolute blue startle the eye from the nests of gentian. Purple orchids sway elegantly in the breeze. Over the edge of the mountain, you can hear the chorus of the ocean. Its faithful music has never abandoned this stone world that once lived beneath its waters. Perhaps Nature senses the longing that is in us, the restlessness that never lets us settle. She takes us into the tranquillity of her stillness if we visit her. We slip into her quiet contemplation and inhabit for a while the depth of her ancient belonging. Somehow we seem to become one with the rhythm of the universe. Our longing is purified, and we gain strength to come back to life refreshed and to refine our ways of belonging in the world. Nature calls us to tranquillity and rhythm. When your heart is confused or heavy, a day outside in Nature’s quiet eternity restores your lost tranquillity.
