I am...

 

There is something interesting about déjà vu… Especially when you had attempted to make other plans and the Universe shuts the door hard on you with a resounding, NO! Then by chance, and a hard hit on the navigators head, you find yourself in the middle of an Irish road heading to a place you did not know you needed to go to. We were both hungry and stopped off aside this old Abbey, in Hollycross. We were told in Thurles it was one of the oldest Abbey's in Ireland and since neither of us had ever physically been in this part of Ireland we decided it was a nice place to end the day, right after a coffee and sandwich.

The entrance to the Abbey appeared as many other entrances to ancient sites in Ireland looked. You have the tall archways, the stony walls and granite pathways. Not to mention the large wooden doorways that lead to a sanctuary where I am sure there is a marble altar, ornate decorations displayed on the walls and rows of seating for parishioner’s to sing praises and lift their voices to God. So at first the feeling of familiarity failed to grab my attention.

I walked around the newer part of the Abbey which was built around the 15^th Century and then headed out to the Garden of Remembrance where there was a large glass building in the middle of these columns. The glass building looked oddly familiar… As if it housed a great secret I had yet to uncover. Even the statues outside the small building seemed to come alive with each step I took. I walked around the outside taking pictures of each column, which depicted reliefs of Christ’s life. I meandered through the courtyard, peered into the windows of the small building and began to make my way around to the older part of the Abbey… This is when it hit me… A rush of memory, I had been here before… But that was inmpossible!!  I had never stepped a foot onto this site until today! My head began to spin and I walked a familiar line to find Patrick. I needed something to help bring me down to reality.

What I remember is a dream, a dream where I walked these steps and visited this place. I just kept running it though my head, how on earth did I dream up a place I had never been to? How could I have walked here and seen this before? Then a man passed by me, he too had been in my dream… My head truly began to swim at this point. I could not remember specific parts of the dream, but I had remembered the smell in the air, the air on my skin and the Abbey ruins… I made my way to Patrick and sat for a second, recollecting my thoughts and hoping the world would stop spinning. I took pictures of the Abbey and peered in through the gate. This gate was an important part of the dream for I was trying to figure out how to get inside the Abbey.

As we drove off I am still left with this feeling of how on earth did I dream of this place? One thing I knew for sure I needed to go to Kildare and find St. Brigid’s Fire Temple… How I put those two together I will never know. Many times in the past four days I have experienced the same emotions of being in a place I have never been and feeling as though I have been and done the same actions in the same place… It is not a creepy feeling, more of a confirmation that I am where I need to be, doing what it is I am doing.

With that said why do I feel so out of sorts? In one aspect I feel as though I have regained a sense of self and become a whole person. In another I feel as though this entire trip has been a waste of art time for I have barely scratched the surface of my creation and only completed four illustrations out of 20 that are due a week after I get home.

Why do I feel at such a loss? We have been to Slane, Dublin, Edinburgh, Oban, Mull, Isle of Iona, Belfast, Glencolmcille, Peterswell, Borrisoleigh, Drogheda and will wind back around to Slane to finish our journey and yet I have not been able to find the time needed to work. Or when I do have the time I work on sacred geometry instead of the page illustrations I am supposed to be completing.

I digress… On Monday evening, after our visit to Hollycross, I decided to read some more of the book I brought, The Red Haired Girl from the Bog by Patricia Monahan. I am currently on the chapter that highlights Kildare Ireland and all the wonders that embody St. Brigid. When I got to the part about the Fire Temple behind the church I turned to Patrick and asked, can we please stop by Kildare? Do we need to go to Kilkenny? Can we stay in Drogheda early and drive through Kildare so I can see the Abbey? Of course he said yes!! I began to feel excited as if a fire was ignited in my heart.

Tuesday I spent the day painting. I painted a card for the sisters of Solas Bridghe – the flame that I drew winter quarter for my book. I called Sister Mary Minihan and asked if someone would be available for me to call into once we got to Kildare. She asked me where we were coming from and I answered her, Borrisoleigh. Oh yes, Tipperary, I shall expect you around two to three, and you are more than welcome Jill…

We left Tipperary Wednesday morning, after having tea with Michael – the owner of the Fairy Fort Hostel – and arrived first at Dunmore Cave… We went deep into the bowels of the earth where the cold damp darkness creates patterns in the strata and carves holes into the sides of the land. There was a stalagmite that was over ten million years old… At one moment they turned off all the lights in the cave so we could experience the utter darkness. There were a few tourists who did not speak English and instead of turning off their cameras they just hid them underneath their jackets. The light from the screen permeated the darkness and in a way annoyed me for I was unable to get the full effect.

After making our way back up out of the earth I was met with the sun and thought, wow how amazing to go into the earth only to be heading towards the light of Brigids flame… We arrived an hour early and I decided I really wanted to go to Abbey. I am always in such a hurry when I get to these places of power to find what it is I am looking for. I hurried here and there, searching for what I thought was the temple… The sacred space that house the fire for hundreds of years…

I circled around the entire church and once again circled around… Upon my third time around I finally slowed myself down and there it was, right in the middle of the grounds, behind the church. It was a stone square with a narrow entry way that held two steps. The plaque read, “Foundation of St. Brigid's Fire Temple”. There was a little boy inside playing airplane and I smiled. I took a picture and his father asked him to come out of there and let the nice lady take a picture. I smiled again at the father and nodded to thank him. I could not have found words if he had asked me anything… I was entirely and utterly speechless… I walked inside and clung to the left side of the chamber. I inched my way to the back and looked at the trinkets, candles and stones that were left behind by people and added a rose quartz to the mix. I attempted to leave two stones my friend Rosy gave me but they did not want to stay there.

It was in this place that I closed my eyes and thought of the flame. I thought of how bright the light was and how dark the cave had been. I realized the gent that had been so rude to leave his camera on was in fact teaching me a lesson on light. The smallest amount of light permeates the darkest of caves – the darkest of places – one tiny spark can ignite a fire… As I closed my eyes on this gray day my eyelids were bright with a red light igniting behind my eyes. I at once saw a triune knot pulsing behind my eyes and shedding red rays of light that seemed to weave in and out of each other. I opened my eyes and the sky and world around me was gray. I closed my eyes again and there was the red light again behind my eyes, pulsing and breathing as if on its own. I sang a praise song to Brigid in that space… I thanked her for her light and love that was healing my mind and body. I thanked her for my Aunt Juana and how she had gifted me with the Goddess. It was very hard for me to tear myself away from this place but when the light began to dim behind my eyelids I broke free from the moment and walked away towards the Abbey. I needed to bring home the flame.

We made our way to Solas Bridghe and was greeted once again by Sister Mary Minihan. She remembers Patrick right away and greeted us with smiles and hugs. I gave her the card I had made and she thought it was lovely. We removed our shoes and headed down the hallway to the back room where the five of us had sat once before, but this time only the two of us would make this journey. She said, “Well Jill one good turn deserves another. I have just woven this a few days ago out of rushes and I would like you have it.” She handed me a Brigid’s cross, still fresh from the day before. She did not go into her normal, “this is what Brigid is about” speech and instead waited patiently for us to explain our second journey. With a cracked voice I said, “The last time we came I asked for the flame to gift to my Aunt Juana who had cancer. This time I would like to ask for the flame for myself.” I did not weep as I had the time before. My voice was not as steady as the sentence above and I had a hard time asking for myself. I explained that my Aunt was overjoyed to have received the flame and how I remembered her face on the day I gifted it to her. My aunt had looked at me with these eyes I had never seen before. It was as if she had never looked at me in this light. Sister Mary prayed for my aunt’s soul and gladly gifted me the flame. I watched her walk over to light it and she set it in Patrick’s hand. We held the candle together as she passed the flame to us and I felt a calm rush over my entire being.

We chatted a bit before Patrick and I got up to go and I told Sister Mary how my friend Betsy had been reunited with her husband after parting from him for over a year and I had gifted her with the last of my flame. She said, “I want to tell you story… There was a woman who was walking through the woods and eventually she came upon a bridge. Now as she crossed over this bridge she saw in the water the most beautiful of precious stones and thought I must have this stone for I know it will make me whole and my whole life will never be the same… She walked up to the house just above the creek and asked at the house about the stone. She told him, I know it is such a precious stone but I was wondering if I could have this precious stone for myself, for I know it will make me whole and my life will be forever changed because of it. The man at the door looked at her with warm eyes and said OF COURSE you can have the stone!!  The lady then took the stone to her home and set it upon a special place where she could see it always. After a few days she began to think about this precious stone and finally, after thinking and thinking she came to a conclusion… She thought, instead of having this stone, better it would be to have the heart of the man who gave it to her... I think this story is for you Jill… For you give freely the flame and from your heart…”

How do you even begin to respond to something like this? How do I argue with what I have accomplished when I have been given the title, “Flame Keeper of St. Brigid”? How can I allow myself to doubt that I am behind in my work when I am doing exactly what the Universe is setting in my path to accomplish?

Even as I write these words the voices of reason and doubt are arguing with each other in my head. As though a volleyball match is taking place and they have been tied for the win for over an hour… “I am”, a saying on my aunt’s wall began… I am the light… I am the precious stone, the heart… I am a Flame Keeper of Brigid… and I walk into my new self, as a shining light – ready to spread love to the world…