I set out that day with the only plan
that I would go as far as I could.
I was older now, heavier, not very agile or confidant
in my uphill climbing abilities.
But I knew my heart was true.
Before very long and way after many
had passed me, I sat on a large rock overlooking the beauties of Clew Bay
and the surrounding landscape.
I had already reached my limit.
There I meditated for awhile
with the light of the swiftly moving clouds
and the full presence of the Irish wind.
I settled in to a deep stillness
and felt to be in a place of solace and guidance.
When I finally opened my eyes
I saw pilgrim after pilgrim passing me,
making their way up the steep slope
and I began to greet them and then
silently bless their journey.
It felt right.
I had been rightly placed.
I knew that I had my own special place on this mountain
and was doing what I had been prepared for
in this very moment;
that we all have a particular path,
places we are planted, people who seem to come randomly into our lives.
The medicine we all have for each other.
I thought of our dear fragile earth,
the fabric of our government that appears to be coming apart at the seams,
the potential for mass despair and feelings of hopelessness;
that somehow we are helpless in the face of our
But then I remember the Holy Mountain;