Then there are the resident island livestock, and yesterday it was the sheep. Here I was, sitting on a bench along the path toward the northern beaches, when four black sheep came munching their way along. Their task was simple; eat. Then to my amazement, they came right up to me and snooped around to see if I had anything to share. One licked my pants and tried for my shoelace. I just sat there as they hung around with me for a while--no fear at all, and eventually all four moved on their way. My solitude was not interrupted; even the sheep understand about the ‘thin place’.
Silence, solitude and simplicity take on a one-of-a-kind flavor on Iona. Although at certain times and places there are clusters of people, it seems that everyone who comes to the island is quiet and respectful. Solitude is never interrupted; it’s just that kind of ‘thin place’. Then there are the resident island livestock, and yesterday it was the sheep. Here I was, sitting on a bench along the path toward the northern beaches, when four black sheep came munching their way along. Their task was simple; eat. Then to my amazement, they came right up to me and snooped around to see if I had anything to share. One licked my pants and tried for my shoelace. I just sat there as they hung around with me for a while--no fear at all, and eventually all four moved on their way. My solitude was not interrupted; even the sheep understand about the ‘thin place’.
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On the train to Oban a few days ago I got talking with a fellow traveler as one only seems to do on a train. I brought up the topic of my lost suitcase of six days, which three days prior I had been told was on its way to Glasgow via Brussels. I told my traveling friend about the positives of losing a suitcase: that there was a certain simplicity in not having all that stuff; that I had no decisions to make about what to wear; that when I left the hotel in Edinburgh I only had to pack a simple backpack. But then I got going on the negatives: that I had to make telephone calls a couple of times a day; that although I was doing my best not to think about it while sightseeing (or while sleeping), clearly it was taking more psychic energy that I wanted to admit. We discussed what one might learn from such a situation, which I summed up in two sound bites: ‘the stuff’ and ‘the anxiety about the stuff’ Then my friend gave her summary: “You are practicing non-reactive awareness.” Isn’t that a wonderful phrase? I’ve been doing my best to practice it ever since. For me it means that I don’t need to react negatively or defensively, but instead be aware, and of course as need be, take action. Stop the chatter in my head about ‘that inept airline’, etc. etc. etc. And, yes, call to see how things are going. I must admit it is easier to write about non-reactive awareness than to practice it. But Iona, where everything is clear and simple, where the space between heaven and earth is thin, is a great place to make an effort and to have some successes. And so with that in mind, here are some pictures of my hike to St. Columba’s Bay today. I might add that sheep are pros at non-reactive awareness. The sand along the north beach of Iona reminds me of sand at Cranes Beach in Ipswich MA. This morning, after passing cows and sheep along the path, I wandered onto the beach, and found myself taking a delicious 10:30 nap. How’s that for someone who likes silence, solitude and simplicity and who sometimes likes to be alone? Iona offers the perfect combination, along with enough community to keep me in the world.
From the ferry before it became sunny.
My first day on Iona and what a beauty. Sun, no wind. Everyone is getting sunburned. I spent a good part of the day walking around and taking pictures. Please enjoy the day with me. If we have a rainy day, maybe I’ll write more. For now I find the solitude as I wander about. Iona Abbey Tomorrow friends and family will gather to remember and celebrate the life of Edie Murray. As we come together I’m sure that we will acknowledge the services taking place for the victims of the Newtown tragedy. One of Edie roles while on staff at the Iona Abbey and as director of Wayside Hospice was to plan and lead the services of remembrance. The following poem/prayer was always included. How appropriate it is at the time. We Remember Them In the rising of the sun and its going down, We Remember Them. In the bowing of the wind and in the chill of winter, We Remember Them. In the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring. We Remember Them. In the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer, We Remember Them. In the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn. We Remember Them. In the beginning of the year and when it ends, We Remember Them. When we are weary and in need of strength, We Remember Them. When we are lost and sick of heart, We Remember Them. When we have joys and special celebrations we yearn to share, We Remember Them. Sp long as we live, they too shall live, for they are part of us. We Remember Them. ~From the Jewish Book Of Prayer~ I am back at the cottage. It is dark and I have lit a candle for my friend Edie, who died this morning, six years after a diagnosis of ovarian cancer. Edie and I were connected through our hospice work and our love of Iona, that little island-off-an island off the west coast of Scotland, where she lived for five years as a staff member at the Iona Abbey. It is where she met her husband, John. When Edie and John returned to the States she became director of Wayside Hospice, which is where I met her through my role as volunteer and spiritual care counselor. Edie’s public legacy will live on through the Parlin Hospice Residence that she founded and where she spent the last weeks of her life. But it is her remarkable capacity to share her love with so many that will remain deep in the hearts of those who knew her. Day by day she showed us the unlimited abundance of love that there is in the world. Deep peace of the running waves to you Deep peace of the flowing air to you Deep peace of the quiet earth to you Deep peace of the shining stars to you Deep peace of the Son of Peace to you Looking from the Isle of Iona to the Isle of Mull. The poem I’ve just posted (see Cottage Companions: Poems), entitled “The Shortest Day,” is the first in a series of “Midwinter Poems” by Jan Sutch Pickard. In the early 2000’s Jan was the Warden of the Abbey on Iona; she now lives on the Isle of Mull. Jan is a writer and story teller, and an advocate for peace and Justice. I met Jan during one of my visits to Iona. She was friendly and vivacious, and very present to everyone who was on the Island Pilgrimage that day. I had the sense that she had found a balance between her work out in the world and her need for solitude—an extrovert and introvert in sync. Waiting to change buses in Tyndrum. Looks simple and it is. I made it to the the Holiday Inn Express at the Glasgow Airport! Was it a simple trip? Two ferries and two buses; ferry from Iona to Mull, bus across Mull, ferry to Oban, bus to Glasgow airport. My feet ought to get some credit, as well. Although it sounds anything but simple, everything went smoothly, so thumbs up for a simple trip. I did, however, have to change busses in Tyndrum, but that’s what you do if you want to catch the bus that goes directly to the airport instead of Glasgow Center. Right now I’m in the hotel lounge/reception area/bar/dining room taking advantage of the free wifi. I refused to treat you to a picture of this one-size-fits-all room, which is anything but silent. Very soon I’m going to go to my silent room and get some sleep. It’s a long day tomorrow, flying west to Philadelphia and back east to Boston. Today I spent the entire day outside in the sun and active wind, walking all over the island. I can’t say it was silent… and yet it was. I was in solitude as I smiled and nodded to others along the route. My routine was simple, even though the sea, rocks, and mountains show a complicated history. That’s all I have to say on this marvelous final day on Iona . I’ve been taking a day of silence, solitude and simplicity in defense against the folks who have started coming across on the ferry. It may not simple to fit in a walk in between the rain showers, but silence and solitude are mine for the taking her on Iona. By the way, I've lost track of the number of days I've been here. All I know is that tomorrow I'll be enjoying some sun on Iona, Thursday I go to Glasgow, and Friday I fly home. Here are some rainy day photos. I'm planning some sunny versions for tomorrow. |
Contact me: bobbifisher.mac@mac.com
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